Hours passed and Peter still did not return home.
She knew he was alive, of course. All she had to do was turn on the police scanner and, at least every thirty minutes, some mugger would be found wrapped up in webbing. But that was of little comfort to Mary Jane. With every passing moment, she knew with growing certainty that Peter's dream was real. He knew it, too, but he probably didn't want to say anything.
She just wanted him to come home so she could hold him in her arms and tell him everything was going to be all right.
She lit another cigarette and silently berated herself.
When Peter held her in his arms and gave her reassurance, they weren't just empty words. He backed them up by going out into the world every night and making damn sure that everything was going to be all right. With every last ounce of his formidable strength, he made sure that the city that never sleeps could close its eyes if it ever chose to do so.
He gave of himself to make sure that the ones he loved were okay.
How could she do any less?
Spider-Man held the world in his hands. But Mary Jane Watson-Parker held Spider-Man in hers.
If he could fight for what he loved, then so could she.
Mary Jane went to her wardrobe and found one of the gifts that her husband had given her. Secretly, it was her favorite. A set of older-model webshooters, adjusted to fit her own wrists.
She strapped them on and headed out.