TWIN DEMONS by Georgia Kennedy
Author's Notes
The Imperial refers to the Imperial Theater, located on West 45th Street in New York City.
"Sloan-Kettering," refers to the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, located on East 64th Street and other locations around New York City.
"Pat Hamilton" was a district attorney for the fictional Midwestern town of Salem on the soap opera Days of Our Lives. As portrayed so ably by actress Catherine MacNeal, Ms. Hamilton was an overzealous, single-minded prosecutor who often tried to win convictions at any cost. This character is so perfect for the role of the Manhattan DA that I just had to borrow her. She is copyrighted and trademarked by Corday Productions, Inc., all rights reserved.
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.
XIII
ALONE ONCE MORE
Hey M.J. Sorry I had to bug out on you last night, but . . . Mary Jane didn't even bother to read the rest of Peter's note. She did not have to. She understood that he had compelling reasons for leaving. When she saw a crude, but accurate drawing of a tiger's paw print in lieu of a signature, she smiled, delighted that he acknowledged the pet name she'd given him. And finding his clothes neatly stacked on top of her dresser left no doubt in her mind that he'd be back.
Her spirits buoyed, she put the note down and was about to go back to sleep when her phone rang. "Hello," she answered, reasonably alert as a familiar name appeared on her caller ID.
"Mary Jane . . . terrific!" snapped Robin Kelly, her director from Earnest.
M.J. reflexively pulled her blanket all the way up to her chin. She felt strangely self-conscious, talking to her boss with no clothes on. "Hey Robin."
"I've got a problem ," Kelly said, sounding frazzled as usual. The lanky man, a dynamo of energy, was always so busy and harried that he tended to be somewhat peremptory with his cast members. "Harry Adler up at the Imperial just cast Rebecca in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. So now I don't have anyone to play Cecily. I saw the headlines about your wedding and had a hunch that you might be available."
"Aren't we lucky," Mary Jane replied. "I was about to call you about coming back this week." Like many people in show business, the perpetually overworked director had not been blessed with tact and sensitivity. But he was a shrewd judge of talent and a good teacher who'd given Mary Jane the break she needed when he cast her in the role of the protected but passionate Miss Cardew. And M.J. would never pass up an opportunity to show Mr. Kelly that his faith in her was justified.
"Well, that works out nicely then," he said dryly. "See you at six, tomorrow night. And don't be late!" He hung up the phone without so much as a "thank you." Mary Jane simply shrugged it off, happy to be getting back to the work she loved while her fiancé was out saving the city and preparing for his final exams.
Thinking that Peter would be tied up all day, M.J. decided to go for a walk around town. A long, leisurely stroll on a balmy Spring day was just what she needed to clear her head and reflect on where her life was going. The play was dark on Mondays, so she wouldn't have to rush back. She showered quickly, put on an old warm up suit and worn sneakers, and headed out to a nearby Starbuck's for a quick brunch. Her frumpy outfit and lack of make-up all but guaranteed that she would not attract any unwanted attention.
Sitting by herself at a window table with her frappuchino and croissant, Mary Jane recalled how, when she first awoke, that all-too-familiar feeling of being stood up set in when she tried to wrap her arms around Peter's warm, bare shoulders and found nothing but the mattress. That the space he'd once occupied was cool to the touch confirmed that he'd been out of bed for several hours. You'd better get used to this girl, because this is how it's going to be from now on, her mind lectured sternly. You think that with everything he's got on his plate, he's gonna have time for morning-after pillow talks or steamy hot showers together? You'll be lucky just to have dinner with him once a month.
Maybe so, M.J. thought. But the heart-shaped diamond atop her engagement ring spoke volumes about the depth of Peter's love for her, a love so strong that it ripped away all of her pretenses and woke her up to the joy of her own soul. That awakening began when she first kissed Peter in the rain and culminated in the most spectacular lovemaking imaginable. So profound was her transformation that she no longer saw herself as the daughter of an alcoholic, an insecure party girl, a damsel in distress, or a veteran of superficial relationships. Those were nothing more than roles she'd once played, characters she'd once worn who were no more real than Cecily. And now they were gone, left behind on the other side of the divide that M.J. had crossed when she lovingly surrendered her virginity to Peter.
Maria Giovanna. Slowly, softly, Mary Jane repeated the name, savoring every syllable as if it were one of Aunt May's famous chocolate chip cookies. It sounded so incredibly beautiful and romantic when Peter whispered it to her. But to M.J., it was more than just a pet name from her lover. It captured the very essence of who she was: a beautiful, wise, and compassionate young woman who would give her man the refuge he so badly needed and would help him get rid of his demons. And if cryptic messages and an empty bed were the price to pay for having him in her life, so be it. Her determination on that score was as solid as the bedrock underneath Manhattan.
Feeling satisfied after her light bite, Mary Jane continued on her way, meandering through Greenwich Village, Chinatown, Little Italy, and the Financial District. As she passed a construction site, she saw a bunch of her Emma Rose ads plastered all over the plywood safety barrier. Instinctively, she lowered her head and picked up the pace. As nice as it was to have her face so prominently displayed around the city, the last thing she wanted was to be recognized by someone who could connect her to Spider-Man. She wondered if Peter's near-reflexive desire for anonymity was starting to rub off on her. That might be a problem, she thought, given the profession that she was in.
By late afternoon, M.J. had made it all the way down to the Battery, the southernmost point in Manhattan. Walking along the waterfront, she passed by hundreds of tourists standing in line, waiting patiently to catch the last boats out to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. She had worked up a healthy sweat, but in deference to her tired feet, she decided to take the subway home. She made her way over to the Whitehall Street station, but found it deserted, even though it was well into rush hour.
She soon found out why. A big, mean-looking transit police officer was blocking the entrance, shooing people away as they approached. When the officer saw her coming, he called out brusquely, "Turn around now, please. The subways are closed until further notice."
That was not enough for Mary Jane. "What's wrong?" she asked as she continued to walk toward the officer. Having stared death in the face five times, she was not easily intimidated.
"Lady, I really don't know," the officer responded abruptly. "We were just told to get everyone out as fast as possible and not to let anyone back in." Mary Jane guessed from his tight-lipped expression that he did know but was not at liberty to say. However, he did manage to soften that expression a bit for the stunning redhead who had the audacity to march right up to him. "I suggest you take a taxi, ma'am."
"Thank you Officer," Mary Jane replied courteously. "I'll do that." She found a cab almost as soon as she got out of the subway, but traffic was so dense that it took her over an hour to get home. The problem was compounded by the presence of thousands of pedestrians in the streets who would normally be making a beeline for their subway rides out to Queens, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. Things were starting to look very ominous. "Excuse me, but could you please turn your radio on?" Mary Jane asked the cabbie.
"Sorry Miss, but the radio's not working today," he replied in heavily accented English.
"Oh, great!" she grumbled, marveling in spite of herself at the unfailing regularity with which Murphy's Law always seemed to operate.
It was a quarter past six by the time the cab rolled up to her building. She quickly paid her fare, raced upstairs and turned on her television. Sure enough, a breaking story was rapidly unfolding. Subway stops all over the city were being evacuated, apparently on orders from the police. Her concern growing, she watched Eyewitness News correspondent Diana Hambrick interview a cop in Times Square.
"Officer Carter," Hambrick queried, "Is there anything you can tell us about why the police decided to take such drastic measures?"
"Well, Diana it's a safety issue," the NYPD officer replied crisply as he struggled to adjust his microphone. "Apparently quite a few trains had been experiencing brake problems. The metro authority thought it best to get everyone out before there was a collision." But M.J. wasn't buying the official spin. Brake failures? Come on, how stupid do they think we are? she thought angrily.
Her half-eaten dinner lay forgotten while she channel-surfed to see if the other networks had any more information. Watching CNN carry the story on its national news broadcast confirmed her suspicions of how serious the situation really was. She was about to turn the channel again when her mother called.
"Mary Jane? Oh, thank God you're all right!" Madeline Watson practically shrieked Her mother never sounded so frightened, not even when her father flew into one of his alcohol-induced rages. "Something's going on with the subways. The police are making everyone get out."
"I heard. They said it had something to do with 'brake problems' on a couple of trains." The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable.
"I don't believe that," Madeline said, echoing her daughter's sentiments. "Do you know the odds against that many trains having brake failures in a single day? I've got a really bad feeling about this. I told my people to stay here until we know what's going on."
"You mean it's almost seven o'clock and you're still at the salon?"
"Yes."
"What about Dad?"
"I haven't been able to reach him."
"Let me guess. He's at Paulie's, getting sauced again, right?" Mary Jane said with a trace of contempt. Paulie's Bar And Grill was just down the street from her parents' house. Her father often staggered home from there after binging with his buddies.
"Listen Mary Jane," Madeline said, clearly more concerned about her daughter than her estranged husband. "Stay home. Please, whatever you do, don't leave your apartment."
"Stop worrying Mom. I'm not going anywhere . . . Hang on a second. They're holding a news conference."
"Yes I know. I'm watching it."
A balding, middle-aged detective named Nick Manolis was standing at a makeshift podium, hastily briefing the press. Mary Jane and her mother gasped in horror when they learned that Al Qaeda operatives had tried to blow up the subway system with radioactive explosives. But M.J's initial shock gave way to a tremendous sense of pride when the police captain singled out her amazing husband-to-be and the crimson-clad guardian of Hell's Kitchen for their heroic efforts in saving New York City from another catastrophic terrorist attack. For Peter, that was twice inside of a month.
"Hello? Mary Jane? Are you still there?"
"What? . . .Oh, yeah Mom," Mary Jane responded hastily, snapping out of her awe-induced trance.
"That Spider-Man is really incredible, don't you think?" her mother asked. Then she corrected herself, remembering how many times the webslinger had brought her little girl back from the brink. "Of course you do. I'm sorry."
"It's okay Mom," Mary Jane answered gently. "He is incredible. And his new partner's no slouch either."
But Mary Jane's observation about Daredevil sailed right over her mother's head. "Have you heard from Peter yet?" Madeline inquired, changing the subject.
The question momentarily caught M.J. off guard. "Peter? . . Uh . . . No. . . I mean . . . yes. I saw him over the weekend, right after I left the church."
"I figured that. But is he okay?"
"Don't worry Mom. Peter's fine." Mary Jane sighed, her heart melting with love. "Oh, and by the way, he asked me to marry him and I said yes."
Madeline Watson was thrilled, but not surprised. "Oh, Mary Jane that's wonderful news," she gushed. "Aren't you glad you listened to your father and me?"
"I'm glad I listened to you, Mom. If Dad had his way, I'd have been Mrs. Flash Thompson by now, if I wasn't already divorced."
"I don't think so, Mary Jane. Your father finally saw the light once it got through his thick head that Peter really did knock Flash out that time. To tell you the truth, I think he's been afraid of Peter ever since."
"Really? I never knew that." She paused to gather her thoughts. "You think he'll come to the wedding?"
"I'm sure he will. Have you set a date?"
"Not yet." There was something else on Mary Jane's mind. "Hey Mom, did Mr. Jameson give you a hard time?"
"Nope. We heard him screaming while we were still in the bridal room, but everyone had gone by the time we left." Madeline paused and said wistfully, "It is too bad about John. He's such a nice young man. I hope he finds someone else very soon."
"So do I Mom," M.J. answered. She'd expected her almost-father-in-law to fly off the handle and would've been surprised if he didn't. In one sense, she really couldn't blame him, given the way in which she ended her relationship with his son. But in another, broader sense, he deserved to be taken down a few notches for the way he treated people, especially Peter.
"Listen, I've got to go. And please don't say anything to Aunt May until Peter and I have a chance to talk to her."
"May's not around anymore, dear."
The shock of what Madeline had just said caused Mary Jane's throat to constrict and her knees to buckle. "Oh my God! When did she die?" M.J. gasped, on the verge of breaking down.
"Oh, no, no." Madeline responded, suddenly feeling extremely foolish at her choice of words. "May just moved away, that's all."
An intense wave of relief washed over M.J. "Jeez Mom, you really had me scared. How long ago did she move out?"
"A few weeks ago. The bank was about to foreclose on her house. I think she just got tired of fighting and wanted to get out with her dignity intact."
"Did she go far?"
"Only about six blocks. She lives at the Helmsley Village Towers, over on Union Avenue. Her phone number's still the same and we still talk every day. By the way, do you know what she said when I told her about your wedding?"
"No, what?"
"She told me that she knew you wouldn't go through with it."
Mary Jane was stunned. "How could she know?"
"Well Mary Jane, we had a long conversation the day before, and I bent her ear about my misgivings. It was pretty obvious to both of us that Peter's had a crush on you for a very long time, and that you were still in denial about your feelings for him."
"Was it that obvious?" M.J. asked, feeling somewhat sheepish.
"Yes dear, it was. He's such a bright, bright boy, and he's grown up to be rather handsome. Quite frankly, I'm so glad that you finally came to your senses."
"So am I Mom." Mary Jane reveled in hearing her mother sing her boyfriend's praises. "I can't wait until we tell Aunt May. Remember Mom, not a word.
"Don't worry Mary Jane. You're secret's safe."
"Thanks Mom. I love you."
"And I love you too sweetheart. Bye."
As she hung up the phone, Mary Jane realized, to her dismay, that she forgot to ask her mother if the biopsy results had come back from Sloan-Kettering. She was very concerned about Madeline's increasingly gaunt appearance in the weeks leading up to her almost-wedding. She resolved to call her mom back first thing in the morning.
Meanwhile a second news conference was getting underway. Mary Jane recognized the attractive, smartly dressed, forty-something blonde woman standing before the microphones. It was Pat Hamilton, the newly-elected district attorney for the Borough of Manhattan. She'd been in the news a lot lately, especially after she led the prosecution team that convicted Wilson Fisk and dozens of his underlings. Despite her numerous accomplishments, however, she was not well liked by the top brass of the NYPD because of her tendency to grandstand. And, to the dismay of J. Jonah Jameson, she publicly praised Spider-Man on more than one occasion, pointedly contradicting the pompous, self-righteous publisher's scathing editorials about the wall crawler.
Known for her loquaciousness, Ms. Hamilton surprised the press corps by delivering a remarkably brief statement. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Tomorrow morning, I will ask the grand jury looking into allegations of criminal conduct on the part of Oscorp and its chairman to expand its probe to include any possible links to terrorist organizations. That's all." She promptly stepped away from the podium without taking any questions.
Mary Jane's mind went numb as she flipped off the TV. She wondered if this prosecutor might've been getting her information from fringe websites. Harry Osborn might've hated his former best friend, but the very idea that he would've deliberately allowed international terrorists to use his company's facilities to stage a major strike was simply too preposterous to take seriously. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the DA was out to nail Harry because of the Octavius affair, and was somehow trying to use the fact that the terrorists had set up shop in an Oscorp-owned building to bolster her case. The whole world's gone crazy, Mary Jane told herself, and the only normal people left are Peter and Daredevil.
Another thought occurred to Mary Jane as she was putting on her pajamas. Al Qaeda would soon be on Peter's already-long list of enemies, and knowing Peter as she did, he would probably be paranoid about protecting her from retaliation. Sadly, she resigned herself to not seeing or hearing from him for God-only-knew how long. For my own safety, she tried to reassure herself as she turned off her light and slipped under the covers, alone in her bed once more.