XIII. Alleviation

Back in his normal clothes, Peter sprinted down his own street in Forest Hills, ran right past his house, and turned onto the Watsons' front walk. He skidded to a halt when he saw that the Watsons still had lights on downstairs, in spite of the fact that it was now past two o'clock in the morning; and, coming from the inside, he could hear raised voices.

MJ's parents were shouting at each other again. Peter didn't want to get involved, but he didn't really have time to think about it either. Mary Jane might be in serious danger. So he marched up to the front door, raised his hand to knock, and… my spider-sense is tinging? Here? What could possibly…? He paused where he stood, looking around at the yard behind him: the shadows, the bushes, the tacky lawn-ornaments. Then, movement… somewhere. He felt it more than he saw it… maybe. It had only been a twitch of perception, out the corner of his eye. It could just be my imagination. I am a little on-edge, after all.

Peter almost didn't notice the Watsons' front door suddenly swing open, right in front of him. He stood there like a deer in the headlights, looking up at the angry face of Philip Watson, who was equally surprised to find Peter standing on his front porch. "You!" he bellowed.

"Uh… hey, Mr. Watson. I know it's kind of late, but—"

"Where's Mary? What have you two been up to? Answer me, you little punk!" He moved to grab Peter, but Peter was far too quick for that.

Peter dodged back a few steps and effortlessly swatted Philip's reaching arms aside. "She's not with me!" he said. "That's why I'm here, I'm—"

Maddie Watson came to the door in a ragged bathrobe and slippers, teary-eyed and distraught. "Peter, oh my God—do you know where MJ is? She—Phil, stop that!—let him go!"

Of course, he wasn't actually able to get a grip on Peter; he wasn't even able to lay a hand on him. Peter just keep ducking around his burly, angry neighbor, trying to get a word in edgewise. "Look, I haven't seen MJ since she left my house—that was hours ago! What's going on here?"

"What's going on?!" repeated Philip. "Ha! Don't think I don't know—"

"Know what?" shouted Peter, matching Philip's angry tone.

"You two! Sneaking around, doing God only knows what! Boys your age only want one thing from a girl like—"

"What a load of crap!" Peter yelled. Now he really was pissed. He caught Phillip by the arm with one hand, and he held him fast. "Where's MJ?!" he said again.

Phillip Watson didn't quite know what to make of this sudden reversal of circumstances. He struggled, he pulled, he twisted, but he couldn't break free from the nerdy neighbor-kid's iron grip. "You tell me!" he exclaimed.

"You mean… you really don't know?" asked Maddie timidly. She too was a little awestruck by the sight of someone—especially little Peter Parker—manhandling her overbearing husband.

"I just told you," said Peter, "I haven't seen her all night. She isn't here?"

"No!" said Maddie. "No, I went upstairs to check on her, but she wasn't in her bed! We thought she was out with you."

Oh, crap, thought Peter. This is really not good. And I can't tell the Watsons anything about what I suspect, because it's all too close to Spider-Man.

Then, from inside the Watson home, there came the sound of a small, sleepy voice. "Hey… w's'goin' on?"

Maddie Watson turned around to see Mary Jane at the foot of the stairs, in frilly pink nightclothes, rubbing the sleep out of one eye. "MJ!" she cried, rushing over to hug her daughter. "Where in God's name have you been?"

"What do you mean?" asked Mary, still sounding groggy. "Dad? …Peter? Is something wrong?"

Peter released his grip on Philip and snarked, "Still think we're out sneaking around?" Inside, though, he was breathing a huge sigh of relief. Oh my God. Whew. MJ's here. That means she can't possibly be the… whew. Thank goodness.

Phillip rubbed his aching forearm and said, "Don't smart off to me, you little—"

"That's enough, Philip!" said Maddie sternly. To MJ, she asked, "I was so worried! I looked in on your room, but you weren't in bed—"

"I must've been in the bathroom or something," said MJ. "What… what time is it?"

"Time I got home," said Peter. "I'll see you tomorrow, MJ. I'm really glad you're okay."

"Oh God," said MJ, turning red in the face. "Mom, did you wake Peter up because you couldn't find me? Peter, I'm so sorry—this is embarrassing—"

MJ's parents of course hadn't woken Peter up, but just now Philip had been on his way over to the Parker house to wake up May and take her to task for Peter and MJ's perceived behavior. So they didn't say anything to MJ; they just stood there, looking embarrassed too.

"S'okay," said Peter, turning away from the Watsons' porch and heading for home. "Don't worry about it. Good night, MJ!" As he jogged around the fence between their yards and went over to the storm-door that led down to his basement, he was practically swimming in a sensation of exuberant relief. MJ's okay. Still, that puts me back at square one—I have no idea who any of these wackos in masks are. Scarlet Spider, Green Goblin, Jackal… I've really got my work cut out for me!

• • •

The next morning, Aunt May cooked a huge breakfast for Peter and Gwen. Given the events of the previous day, she offered to call their school if either of them, especially Gwen, wanted to stay home. But both Peter and Gwen refused—Peter because he wanted to see MJ, even if it was during school hours; and Gwen because she was suddenly very determined not to miss anymore school for the rest of the year.

And so, May packed a couple of lunches (she was usually in enough of a hurry that it was easier to simply give Peter some cafeteria money, but today she was on a roll in the kitchen) and shooed the two teenagers out the door to catch the bus.

Then she grabbed her laptop, the white pages, and the kitchen telephone, and she got down to business. It was time to track down Gwen Stacy's mother.

• • •

"You mean you had the chance to skip school today, and you didn't take it?" asked MJ in disbelief. She, Gwen, and Peter were all just getting off the school bus at Midtown High.

"See, this is exactly why I wanted to make sure I came today," said Gwen sullenly. "When word gets around about my dad getting shot—"

"And it will," said Peter. "Our school does a better job of spreading rumors than the Daily Bugle."

"—Then everyone's gonna be, like, oh, hey, the crazy loner psycho-girl lost her cop daddy. I bet she'll run off and go do crazy loner psycho things like some whiny loser orphan, maybe wind up in juvie. I don't want them thinking that about me," explained Gwen. "I hate the thought of being predictable."

"You in class all the time would definitely not be predictable," said MJ.

Harry Osborn appeared from the direction of the parking lot. "Hey guys. Gwen… I heard about your dad on the news. I'm sorry."

"You ain't got nothing to be sorry about, Osborn," said Gwen. "Your dad's still alive."

"Yeah, but I thought my dad was dead. Everybody did. So I kind of know what you're going through."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Gwen. She suddenly threw her arm around Peter and asked, "Why, you want to start a club? What with me and Pete here being orphans, and you, like, an ex-orphan."

"I was trying to be nice," protested Harry. "You know; in case you wanted to, like, talk about stuff—"

"It does seem like he's trying to be nice," said MJ, intent on backing Harry up.

"Okay, thanks," said Gwen, "but I'm really not in the mood. If you really know all about what I'm going through—"

"I wish I would have had someone to talk to," said Harry. "I don't know, maybe that was just me."

"Maybe it was," said Gwen. She shook her head and said, "Not me; not yet."

"All right. Well… see you around then, Stacy," said Harry. He turned toward the school building and walked off alone.

Peter had meanwhile managed to extricate himself from Gwen's embrace and took MJ aside. "Hey, listen, about last night—"

"Oh my God, I am so sorry about my parents!" said MJ. "I had no idea that they would—"

"Yeah, but this about something else," said Peter, cutting her off. "Something that…" he glanced over at Gwen, "…that I need to ask you about. In private."

MJ looked nervously over at Gwen. Gwen rolled her eyes and waved her hand at the couple. "Don't worry about me. Go on; go make out. You only got five minutes until the bell, though. Just saying."

While Gwen went inside, Peter led MJ off around to the side of the school building, looking for an out-of-the-way spot where they wouldn't be seen. Once they were alone, MJ said, "Peter Parker, if you think that I'm going to make out with you until the bell rings, just because of the way my dad acted last night… you are so right."

"As much as I would love that, this is about something else," said Peter. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's related to, uh, Spidey stuff."

"Okay," said MJ. "What is it?"

Peter blew out a long breath and finally said, "I don't know how to ask this, so I'm just gonna… MJ, are you wearing a Spidey costume under your clothes? Kind of like mine, but all red?"

A few tense seconds passed. Then MJ burst out laughing, hard enough that she was very quickly out of breath. "What…? You… am I… what?!" She was doubled over now, while Peter just stood there and rolled his eyes. Once MJ was able to form sentences, she asked, "Is this some kind of… super-hero inside joke that I don't know about?"

"MJ, I'm serious," said Peter. "Please, can you just…?"

"What, prove it?" asked MJ, lifting up her shirt a little bit. Her tummy was bare. "See? No costume. But why did you think…?"

"Because… there's another spider-person running around," said Peter. "Working for the Green Goblin. She's about your size, and—and—and she has red hair that looks just like yours!"

MJ snorted and looked askance at Peter. "You think that I… could be working for the Green Goblin?"

"I know that he kidnapped you, and you don't remember any of it," said Peter. "It could be, like, brainwashing or something. Weirder stuff has happened to me since I first put on the webs."

MJ gasped aloud when she realized that, yes, Peter was completely serious about this… and that there was a possibility, however remote, that he might just be right. "Seriously…?"

"Look, just… I need to make sure, okay?" Peter thought for a moment, searching for an idea. Finally, he pointed at the side of the building and said, "Okay, the wall. Try to stick to it."

"Uh… okay," said MJ. She walked up to the wall and reached out a hand. She didn't quite touch the wall, though. Turning to Peter, she asked, "Are you sure that I'm not, like, getting punk'd here? I swear, if the Human Torch is on the roof with a camera—"

"MJ!"

"Okay, okay! Um… how do you…?"

"I don't know, I just… stick," said Peter. "I usually don't even have to think about it."

"All right," said MJ. "Here goes…" She touched one hand to the wall, and then the other, and… nothing. She couldn't get any kind of grip on the rough bricks. Turning back to Peter, she smiled and said, "Sorry, Tiger. I guess I'm not your super-villain."

Peter grabbed MJ in a tight hug. "Thank goodness! You have no idea how freaked out I was, worrying about this."

"You really had me scared for a minute there," said MJ, squeezing back. "Still, it would be kind of cool… Peter, the things you can do are amazing! Sometimes I wish that I could do them too."

"It's not all roses, you know," said Peter, bringing his face closer to MJ's. "Sometimes it sucks."

"I know."

A sly grin appeared on Peter's face. "And now, Miss Watson, I do believe you mentioned something about daddy-issues and making out…"

MJ grinned back. "I do believe I did, Mr. Parker…"

And then the bell rang.

"Aw, nuts," said Peter.

• • •

That afternoon, Peter had to work at the ESU lab, and MJ had drama practice. Peter was a few minutes late: on the way, he'd passed the scene of a bad accident in which a semi-truck had jackknifed and rolled over several cars. It had taken quite some time to pull all the people, many of them injured, out from all the wrecks. Peter had, however, managed to snap a few pictures of Spidey in action, helping the firemen and paramedics with their work. (He could see Jameson's headline now: "Glory-Hounding Menace Causes Wreck.") He didn't have to make an excuse once he arrived at the lab, though. Neither Miss Whitman nor Dr. Warren even noticed his tardiness—Whitman because she was so preoccupied with her work, and Warren because he was (Peter couldn't believe it) slumped over the desk in his office, dozing, an open thermos of coffee still cooling nearby. He was actually drooling a little bit on a thick portfolio labelled, "Isolating Loci within the Canine Genome."

Peter walked right past Debra Whitman and into Dr. Warren's office. "Dr. Warren?"

Miles Warren started and came to, rubbing his eyes. "Ahem… erm… Parker." He fumbled around the top of his desk until he found his glasses and put them on.

"You looked like you were asleep," said Peter. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," said Dr. Warren. He was manic and a little twitchy now, as if he'd been drinking entirely too much coffee all day long. "One too many late nights in the lab, I suppose. Let this be a lesson to you, Parker. Take care of yourself. Don't be a workaholic. Otherwise it might make you careless in the lab. A good scientist can't afford to get sloppy."

"Yes sir," said Peter. "Okay, well, I'll get to work on the electrophoresis, then."

"Uh… Parker, wait just a moment," said Dr. Warren, stopping him. "I know we haven't really spoken to each other all that much… er, casually, I mean. But, well, my friend, Norman Osborn… he's mentioned you once or twice. Speaks very highly of you. And, of course, I've told him that your work here has been top-notch."

"Okay…?"

"Well, I believe that Norman intends to offer you a job with his company. Once your internship is finished here, I mean." Dr. Warren straightened up and said, "You have a bright future ahead of you in science, my boy, but don't take this to mean that you can suddenly get lazy!"

"Of course not," said Peter. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact there was," said Warren. He now reached for a manila folder on his desk, opened it up, and flipped through the papers inside. "The board has opened up two more positions here in the lab, one for a graduate student and one for another young intern like yourself. I'm much too busy to deal with this myself. Fortunately, Miss Whitman has already found another grad student to hire," he finally located the paper he was looking for in the folder, "um, a fellow by the name of Michael Morbius. Pathology student from Greece. He'll be joining us here in about a month. In the meanwhile, if you know any other students with an especial talent for biology or chemistry, bring those names to Miss Whitman. She'll take your suggestions into consideration."

"Okay," said Peter. "I'll think about it." But in truth, one name was already coming to mind.

Dr. Warren turned to his thermos and started chugging the rest of the lukewarm coffee. Peter took that to mean that he was dismissed, and he went off to get today's DNA samples, the splicing enzymes, and the electrophoresis gel.

• • •

That evening, Peter came home to find Aunt May, sitting alone at the kitchen table, lost in thought. Peter walked over and kissed his aunt on the cheek. "How was your day, Aunt May?"

"Trying," she said ruefully. "Do you know that I spoke to Gwen's mother on the phone this morning?"

That was news to Peter. "What happened there?"

"Nothing good," said May. "The things that came out of that woman's mouth… well, they're not fit to be repeated. Honestly, how a woman like that could have married Gorge Stacy and had darling girl like Gwen, I just can't imagine!"

"So, where's Gwen now?"

"Up in your room, packing her things," said May. "The poor dear. Her only other family is a second cousin out in Minnesota—who she's never met in person."

"She's leaving?!" asked Peter, shocked. "Aunt May, she can't just—you can't let her—"

"I agree," said May. "But I wanted to get your opinion on the matter first. So… what would you say if we were to let her stay here? For good?"

"Aunt May, I think… that's a great idea," said Pete. It might make my comings and goings as Spidey a little more difficult, but that hardly matters, he thought. Gwen's been a good friend to me and MJ, and I'll bet that Aunt May could really use the extra company.

"One of you will have to give up the bedroom," said Aunt May.

"I can move down into my lab," said Peter. "Half my stuff is already down there anyway." Including all of my Spidey gear.

"Heaven knows, you already spend so much of your time down there as it is," said Aunt May. "Well, I think we should go tell Gwen the good news."

And so they went upstairs together. The door to the bedroom was closed. May knocked; Gwen appeared. "S'up?"

"Gwen…" began May. "Peter and I have discussed it, and, well, we were thinking… since you don't really know this relative of yours, and since I really only know how to cook for three… and we both really think the world of you, that you might want to consider staying here with us for a while?"

Gwen didn't say anything for a long while, but she looked at Peter, who smiled and subtly nodded. Gwen suddenly lunged forward and grabbed both Peter and May in a group-hug; Peter felt a little awkward about that, but May patted Gwen on the back and said, "There, there, honey."

Gwen backed off, snuffled, and wiped a tear out of her eye with her shirt-sleeve. "I'm, uh… thanks," was all she could manage.

"Think nothing of it," said May. "You've only been here for a couple of days, but already the house is starting to seem a great deal less empty. So feel free to stay as long as you like. Right, Peter?"

"Definitely," said Pete. Then a sudden realization struck. "I should, uh, probably go see if MJ is home from drama club yet. You know, so that I can explain all this—"

"That is probably a very good idea," agreed Gwen.

Pete ran off, leaving May to explain to Gwen that the room she currently occupied was now hers to do with as she pleased, just as soon as Peter moved his own things down into the basement.