TWIN DEMONS by Georgia Kennedy
Author's Note
The line, "Resistance . . . is . . . futile," comes from the film, Independence Day,© 1996 by Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, Inc.
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.
V
DECLARATION OF WAR
Traveling swiftly and silently through the night air, Peter and Mary Jane landed in an alley five blocks away from their destination. Peter worked quickly to tear the webbing off their clothes and dispose of it using routines honed from years of practice. After checking to make sure that no one else could see them, they emerged quietly from the alley. Holding hands, they walked quickly back to her apartment building.
"Would you like to come upstairs for some hot chai?" she asked as they arrived at the revolving door.
Peter had never heard of chai. Curious, he asked, "What's that?"
"It's sort of like a tea, only sweeter," she explained. "It's really very good."
"Sure, I'd love to try some," he said softly, feeling both excited and terrified at being invited back up to her place after sundown.
They rode up the elevator, not speaking, but communicating nonetheless. They simply could not take their eyes off each other. Their mutual enthrallment was broken by the sound of the elevator doors opening on her floor.
"I have to be out of here in two weeks," Mary Jane told Peter matter-of-factly as she opened the door to her apartment. "I gave notice. You know, the wedding and all."
"What will you do?" Peter asked, concerned about whether she would be able to find a new place to live in so short a time.
She gave him a sidelong glance. "I don't know. . . maybe move in with you." She said it in the most natural and conversational way, as if no other answer was even worth contemplating.
"In that rat hole?" Peter retorted, "I don't think so. Hell, even I can't live there anymore!"
"Well then, what are we going to do?" M.J. asked mockingly as she started to caress his face. He jumped back. Her hands were still very cold.
"Sorry," she apologized.
"Here," he said, rubbing her hands to warm them up, being careful not to rub too hard, lest the friction burn her. "How's that, M.J.?" Peter asked with a shy smile, delighted to do any little thing that would make her comfortable.
"Much better," Mary Jane answered, smiling back wholeheartedly. "You know I really had a great time tonight Pete. Thanks for letting me into your world. You really see things from a different perspective up there. It's so beautiful, so peaceful."
"Glad you liked it M.J.," said Peter sincerely. "Sometimes I just go up there to clear my head and find a little solace ." . . . Like I did when I saw you get engaged to John.
"Do you know what was the most fun?" Mary Jane asked playfully.
"Let me guess. The billboard."
She shook her head. "Not even close."
"Why not? I mean, how often does one get to climb up her own face?"
She laughed softly and put her arms around him, her eyes sparkling. "Actually, it was the kiss you gave me on the roof of that building. And the flight wasn't too bad either." She paused, and then said, "Why don't you tell me what your favorite part of it was?"
"Just having you up there with me," he said, inwardly taking pleasure in watching her face light up.
"Go relax on the couch for a while I get the chai ready," Mary Jane suggested. It was the same couch where, with her ex-fiancé, she'd tried unsuccessfully to recreate the magical moment she'd once shared with Peter in the rain-soaked alley so long ago.
"Shoes off," she ordered, just as he was about to sit down. He complied.
It didn't take long to prepare the chai. It was a Starbuck's special, vanilla chai latte, available in any supermarket. She poured the mix into two coffee mugs filled with water and stirred. As she stuck the drinks in her microwave, she called out, "Pete, can you put out two coasters? They're on the coffee table."
"Sure, M.J. . . . Done."
Mary Jane took off her sweater and tossed it onto a dining room chair. She brought the mugs of steaming chai over, set them down on the coasters and sat down next to Peter on the couch. They picked up their mugs simultaneously, clanging them in a toast to being together at last, after so many years of struggle and heartache.
"L'chiam," said Peter. He'd been to enough bar mitzvahs to know what it meant.
"L'chiam," responded Mary Jane.
Peter found the chai to be delicious. The sweet, hot liquid felt so good cascading down his throat. It warmed him up almost as much as being next to the woman he loved.
As they finished their drinks, they both became acutely aware of the sounds from the city filtering through her windows. Mary Jane hoped and prayed that they would not hear any sound that would take him away from her that night. She nestled up to him as they leaned back, put their feet up on the coffee table, and draped their arms around each other's shoulders. With her free hand, she gently stroked his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, his pecs felt like warm marble.
Peter, meanwhile, was silently admiring Mary Jane's long, incredibly gorgeous legs, and the soft skin of her flat stomach that was left exposed by the short-sleeved top she was wearing. The bottom of her belly button was barely showing. To Peter, it was a sacred site, something that, only twenty four hours earlier, he would never have expected or even hoped to set eyes on. Now, he couldn't take his eyes off her. He wondered if she were deliberately trying to arouse him.
Neither Peter's expression nor the direction of his gaze was lost on Mary Jane. She exulted in the fact that she was succeeding in arousing him. "Face it Tiger," she said in the most seductive whisper she could muster, "you just hit the jackpot!" He could not agree more.
They cuddled together on the sofa and started necking as though they were back in high school. As they kissed, she unbuttoned the top four buttons of his shirt and ran her fingers lightly over his chest. In response, he slipped his hands beneath her top and gently massaged the small of her back. She felt a strange tingling. It was coming from the microsurges of static electricity that enabled his fingers and toes to adhere to vertical surfaces. Mary Jane felt as though her body were being lightly touched with an electrically charged feather. The feeling was absolutely sensational.
"Wow, Tiger, you've really got the magic touch," she giggled. "Is that how you climb walls?"
Peter gave her a mysterious, inscrutable smile. "A good magician never reveals his secrets . . .but if you really have to know, the answer is yes."
They lay close together on the couch, hugging, kissing, caressing, and massaging each other until well after midnight. Mary Jane could not get enough of Peter's electrical fingers gently playing across the skin of her back and stomach. It felt wildly erotic and was driving her crazy.
Peter discretely looked at his watch, and was shocked to discover that two hours and twenty minutes had passed since they had returned to Mary Jane's apartment. It was getting late and he really needed to get moving.
He started to get up, but Mary Jane wouldn't let him. She had no desire to see him go and did not intend to budge. "Please don't leave," she said softly. "Stay with me tonight." He looked into her eyes again. They were filled with passionate desire, bordering on lust.
Peter's breath got caught in his throat as he heard the snap on M.J.'s pants being opened. Glancing down reflexively, he saw that her shirt was hiked up almost to the bottom of her breasts, exposing a delicious expanse of skin, her belly button in the middle. It was a shallow innie that reminded him of a flat-bottomed crater. Looking down a little further, he saw that her snap was indeed undone. She was pulling her zipper down, very slowly, very deliberately, as if she were doing a strip tease. "Oh Peter," she whispered roguishly, laughing inwardly at her boyfriend's pathetic struggle to stay cool, "you're shaking!" Raising the temperature even further, she reached over and undid the rest of his shirt buttons. When she finished, she took his hand and guided it toward her open fly. He caught a glimpse of the white panties that barely covered her mons veneris. A thin hedge of red pubic hair was peeking out over the top.
At that moment, Peter Parker had no willpower left in him at all. Mary Jane had him totally at her command, and she wanted him to touch her body in that most intimate and special of places.
Resistance . . . is . . . futile, he thought, holding his breath as his fingers made contact with the sheer fabric of her panties.
Tell her, you idiot!
It was Spider-Man, yelling at him so loudly in his mind that Peter was sure Mary Jane could hear it. He yanked his hand away from her as if he had touched a live wire.
Tell her about Harry! Tell her NOW, godammit!
His sudden movement startled Mary Jane, who watched his expression go from ecstacy to agony in less than three seconds. "Peter, what is it?" she asked, afraid that he had picked up some unfolding emergency and would have to leave.
Peter saw the distraught look on her face and knew that moment was gone. If there is one thing that Peter had in abundance besides lousy timing, it was an unsurpassed talent for making magical moments disappear. But there would be many more intimate moments in the days and months ahead, and this was a matter of life and death. He looked her straight in the eye and did not mince words.
"Harry knows."
"About us?"
"About me."
Mary Jane did not have to be told more than once about what he meant. She recalled hearing Doc Ock saying something about Harry Osborn not having the balls to kill Spider-Man. At the time, she could not believe that Harry was capable of harming anything, let alone another human being. But his obsession with Spider-Man and the death of his father had been all-consuming and was probably taking a toll on his sanity. She remembered catching a brief glimpse of Harry at the planetarium party, drinking heavily and spouting off to anyone within earshot how the wall-crawler had murdered Norman Osborn. And with his money, his obsession, and now his knowledge, he could raise hell far worse than Jonah Jameson ever could.
"How did he find out?" Mary Jane asked. She was worried, but not frightened.
"It was Otto Octavius," Peter answered reluctantly, not wanting to refer to his one-time idol by that humiliating moniker with which Jameson had christened him. "Otto delivered me to Harry gift-wrapped in barbed wire in exchange for the material he needed to fire up his fusion reactor. Harry pulled off my mask while I was tied up and still groggy from being knocked out. He was ready to plunge a knife into me, but when he saw who it was, he hesitated, and that bought me enough time to escape. Then he saw me break out of the barbed wire, and I think it messed him up really bad."
Mary Jane was still confused. "Peter, exactly where did Harry get the idea that you killed his dad?"
Peter held her eyes with his own. "Norman Osborn," he said without preface, "was the Green Goblin." There was no emotion in his voice. Only a conviction that told Mary Jane it was true.
Mary Jane's eyes widened, not with shock or disbelief, but with confirmation, validation, . . . and vindication. "I knew it!" she cried, "I knew there was a reason I never liked that creepy bastard! He wiped out all those people on the balcony! He tried to kill innocent kids! He tried to kill me, and you! . . .My God, he even tried to kill his own son! There's no telling how much more harm he might've caused if you hadn't stopped him! You did the right thing."
"But I didn't kill him, Mary Jane!" Peter protested, realizing how important it was for her to know the truth. "His glider was coming straight at me. If I hadn't gotten out of the way at the last second, I would've been sheesh-ka-bobbed instead of him. His last words were, 'don't tell Harry,' and I respected that. . ." He felt tears coming. "When does it end, Mary Jane? My life is such a goddamned soap opera! I win back the girl I love only to lose my best friend. It's like I'm always getting screwed for trying to do the right thing, and God never gets tired of shoving my face in it."
He embraced her closely and started to cry. "I miss him, Mary Jane. . . .I miss him so much." he sobbed. "He's the brother that I never had. We'd been tight for so many years, been through so much together. I just want us to get back to where we were before this whole Spider-Man thing got started . . . back to where we could trust each other again. I just want to be able to get through his thick skull and tell him what really happened."
"That might be the best thing to do, Pete," M.J. agreed softly, stroking his back with a comforting hand.
"What?"
"Tell him the truth."
Peter shook his head. "He'd never accept it," he demurred. Besides, the minute that Harry finds out about the Goblin, he'll know that his own father tried to kill him. Can you imagine what that would do to him? What it would do to anyone? That's why I never told him. I don't want to hurt him any more than he's already been hurt."
"How do you know that?" Mary Jane asked, gently but firmly. "Harry's a grown man, Peter. He has a right to know what his father was. Could the truth put him in any worse shape than he's already in?" She knew by the expression of comprehension on Peter's face that she'd definitely scored some debating points in that round. And when Peter didn't answer, she went on.
"Look Tiger, I know your heart's in the right place, and that's why I love you. But you have a tendency to decide things for other people that you have no right to decide. I mean, look at us, Pete. You never told me you were Spider-Man. You never even gave me the chance to make up my own mind. Instead you decided that it would be too dangerous, and you let me believe that you didn't care about me any more. I just wish you knew how much it hurt when you pushed me away." As she spoke, her voice started to break slightly, and her eyes were tearing up. It was so hard for her to revisit that subject, even in retrospect.
"I did, Mary Jane. Believe me, I did . . ." Peter said earnestly.
But he didn't, not really, she thought. He'd been so concerned about her physical safety that he had never thought about her feelings or her emotional well being. And two years of being rejected by the man she loved had left scars on Mary Jane Watson's psyche—scars that would take a long time to heal.
"Then why do the same thing to Harry?" she asked. "You know that you didn't kill his father, but you're letting Harry go on believing that you did, watching him deteriorate, watching him make a mess of his life. You took it upon yourself to decide that he wasn't ready to hear the truth, and all you're doing is prolonging his agony. Life is full of unpleasant truths, Peter. You can't keep sheltering people from those truths, especially the people you care about the most. Tell him! What he does after that is up to him."
Peter stared at Mary Jane as a side of her that neither of them knew existed showed itself for the very first time. In less than five minutes, she had given him a very clear perspective on problems that had vexed him for years. She helped him realize that his loved ones did not have to suffer on account of his actions, and that he needed to tell it like it is in order to prevent such outcomes. He had to tell Harry the truth about his father, come what may. Otherwise Harry would continue on his downward spiral. Even if they could never be friends again, Peter at least owed him the chance to find closure.
"You're such an amazing, woman, Mary Jane." he said as he swept her up in his arms again. "God, I just never saw the other side of it . . .and to think that I almost lost you forever because of my bull-headedness. Thank you. Thanks so much for helping me through this. And I will try to talk to Harry in the next few days, I promise."
"It's okay Pete, it's okay," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "I know you'll do the right thing, and I'm here now. I'm here for you anytime you need me." Mary Jane had never been in love with anyone as much as she was in love with Peter. And she knew that theirs would be a special kind of love, a love not seen since the days when the gods of Mount Olympus took mortal women as their consorts. She felt deeply honored and humbled that this latter-day god had chosen her to be his consort, and that he trusted her enough to share his vulnerabilities and frailties with her. Clearly, he needed guidance to navigate the world of mortals, and she would give him that guidance. She was now aware of her purpose, and nothing ennobles one more than a sense of purpose. For that reason, she was no longer upset or disappointed that they would not be making love that night. There would be other nights . . . many other nights.
"M.J.," Peter said as he released her, buttoned up his shirt, and reached for his jacket, "I really have to go. My academic advisor wants to see me in the morning."
"On a Sunday?" Mary Jane asked, somewhat surprised.
"That's what he said," replied Peter, shrugging his shoulders. It was unusual for a professor to see a student on a Sunday morning, and Connors gave no hint on the phone of what the matter was or why it couldn't wait until his normal office hours on Tuesday. He'd just told Peter to show up at his office. Peter did not have a very good feeling about it.
"What time?" Mary Jane asked.
"Ten."
"Can I come with you?"
Peter thought about it for a moment. He would probably need her shoulder to cry on if Connors flunked him. "Sure, why not," he said. "Meet me at ten minutes before ten, under the Washington Square Arch. Okay?"
"Okay Tiger. Can I walk you downstairs?"
"How about upstairs, M.J.? Can you show me how to get to the roof in this place?"
"Sure. There's a service door on the top floor that leads to an emergency exit. Every resident has a key." She grabbed her keys out of her purse, put on her jacket and together they left her apartment.
"M.J.," said Peter, blushing.
"Yes?"
"You might want to zip up."
Thinking that he meant the jacket, she said, "I don't have to."
"Uh . . .er . . .M.J. . ."
She looked up at him quizzically. He gave her a quick downward glance. Following his cue, Mary Jane looked down and saw that her fly was still open. "Oh," she said as she hastily zipped it up, her cheeks turning the color of her hair. She was extremely grateful that no one else was in the corridor.
They took the elevator to the fortieth floor. When they arrived, Mary Jane led him to the door they needed to find. She opened it, turned on the lights, and led him up the short stairway. The emergency exit was at the top of those stairs.
"If this door closes, can you still get back in?" Peter asked her.
"Yes," she responded, thinking how awfully sweet it was of him to make sure that she would not be stuck on the roof all night long. Of course, it wouldn't be such a bad deal if he stayed with me up here, she thought naughtily.
She opened the door for him, and together they stepped out onto her roof, into the night. They held each other as the door closed behind them. But as he wrapped his arms around her, he suddenly found his thoughts being directed back to the encounter with Daredevil in Hell's Kitchen. All at once, something began to take over his brain as though it was infected by spyware. He could not control the images that were coalescing in his mind, nor could he stop them from forming. He and Mary Jane were on the billboard . . . the side of the billboard that was lighted . . . exposed . . . a target. There was a shot aimed right at them. . . and Mary Jane screamed and fell. . . .
What the hell have I done? M.J.! Oh my God! NOOOOOOOOOO!
Even the dark, Mary Jane could tell that something was amiss. She felt Peter stiffen in her arms, and heard him muttering about her how he needlessly put her in jeopardy. "Stop it Peter," she said nervously, "You're scaring me."
" M.J.," Peter gasped, his voice betraying his anxiety, "I'm sorry. That was so stupid of me! Those bastards might have killed you. . . ."
"Peter!" Mary Jane said, a little more sharply this time, "That's enough!" She recognized what was happening. Peter's malevolent demons were refusing to go away quietly. They saw her as a mortal threat to their existence, and they were tightening their grip on Peter, trying to get rid of her, just as they had kept her away from him for two years.
"It's not too late to call this thing off, Mary Jane" Peter continued, obviously in full panic mode. "There's still time for you to patch things up with John. If we . . . ."
"NO!" Mary Jane screamed. That was it! She'd had it with those creatures, and would not take any more crap from them. If it was a fight they wanted, a fight she would give them. It was time to serve notice that their intrusion upon Peter's soul would soon be at an end.
"Don't you ever, EVER say that to me again, Peter Parker!" she shouted right in his face, her arms akimbo. "I don't give a damn how strong you are. If you so much as think about going there, I swear to God I'll cut your balls off!"
Her gambit paid off. Peter was momentarily taken aback by the swiftness and the vehemence of Mary Jane's reaction. But he felt neither hurt nor angry. In fact, the fear disappeared as quickly as it came. Peter chuckled to himself as they gazed at each other, amazed that she'd gotten so tough.
"Thanks M.J. I really needed that, I guess," he said a little sheepishly.
"Don't mention it, sweetheart."
"Did you just make me an offer I couldn't refuse?" he asked impishly.
She squeezed his hands in hers. "You bet your ass, Tiger." she responded softly.
Despite being so cold from the night air, she did not want to let go of him. But the chill eventually got to her. They gave each other one final french kiss, and she slowly released her grip on him.
"Remember," he said, "ten to ten, under the arch." And with that, he fired his webline and took off.
She ran to the edge of the roof, following him as far as she could. "I'll be there!" she shouted as he disappeared into the night.
Freezing, she turned around and went back inside, knowing that she had her work cut out for her. She had just declared war on the twin demons.