Sooooo soooooo sorry for the long delay in updating everyone. I appreciate your patience and I know how frustrating it can be waiting for an update and I do apologize to all my readers and reviewers for the delay. I've been you guys everyday waiting for stories to update so I know how it feels. My editor/beta reader went back to school so its harder for her to have time to do her magic and without it this fic would be an absolute mess and trust me, you wouldn't wanna read it anymore LOL so please be patient with me and her. I do hope you continue to enjoy the fic!! We'll try and make it worth your wait! Please R/R! Thanks! :)


Chapter 6: Spirit of the Season

Don't you know that I will stand up for you
No matter what you are going through
I'm still on your side
Any time day or night
Don't care if it's wrong or right
I'm still on your side

You want to run you want to break free
What you want ain't what you need
Can't you see that I care
I know I'm hard on you sometimes
But when you are looking for the things you can't find
Don't you know who'll be there

Who will, I will
When it's more than you can handle
Ain't no lie

Don't you know that I will stand up for you
No matter what you are going through
I'm still on your side
Any time day or night
Don't care if it's wrong or right
I'm still on your side

I'll be there, I'll be there, I'll be there
I'll be there when you need me
I won't let you go
There's nothing I won't do I'll be there

Don't you know that I will stand up for you
No matter what you are going through
I'm still on your side
Any time day or night
Don't care if it's wrong or right
I'm still on your side

I will be around when the others let you down
I'm still on your side
Anytime you need help and you can't find nobody else
I'm still on your side



The morning sunlight glared into Peter's eyes and he squinted blearily, glad for the respite as he entered the shelter of the Bugle building. His eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, he hadn't slept more than an hour last night. Every time he'd fallen asleep, nightmares of MJ screaming for him had plagued his subconscious, made him wake up sweating and crying her name, reaching out in front of him into empty air. He hadn't been able to find her in the darkness that engulfed his dreams. He could hear her, begging for him, both as Peter and as Spider-Man, and he searched, calling after her, frantic and strained while he tried to navigate the blackness as her sobs echoed around him. Then…then, he'd heard her cry out one last time horribly, her voice silenced when Peter finally found her, dead, glassy eyes staring up at him in accusation. It was the same every time. He was never able to save her. Finding himself awake in bed at four in the morning, he'd thought about going to her. Then, he remembered how he had treated her and the horrible things he'd said.

He frowned sorrowfully at the thought, as he stood there, waiting for the elevator. Maybe he could go to her later, apologize for being so harsh, tell her they'd still be friends. If she could ever forgive him...

The elevator opened and Peter stepped in, pushed the button to the top floor, mind still whirling with everything he'd done wrong.

"Hold that elevator, please!" a woman's voice shouted.

Peter tilted his head even as his hand automatically went to hold the door. He knew that voice.

He watched as a blur of blonde charged at the doors, stopping only when safely inside. "Thanks," she breathed.

"It's you," Peter said aloud before he could stop himself.

"Excuse me?" she chuckled, in the same sweet laugh he'd heard last night.

"Uh, the new freelancer, right?" Peter covered clumsily, mentally berating himself for his carelessness. It was the woman he'd saved from thug by the alley.

"Gee, shows that much huh?" She brushed back her hair, revealing those piercing eyes.

"Takes a freelancer to know one," Peter replied with as casual a shrug as he could muster.

"Oh?" She noticed his camera in his hands. "Photography huh? 'm a reporter."

"Peter Parker." Pete nodded politely.

"Amber Dieson," she responded without hesitation, smiling sweetly. "How long have you been freelancing for the Bugle?"

"Couple months now," Peter answered.

"You always this worn out?" She frowned, studying his face. "And you're only a freelancer?"

"Rough night," Peter explained, shaking his head as his thoughts drifted once more to MJ.

"Here that. I was attacked last night, Spider-Man saved me…" she paused thoughtfully. "Parker, Parker, I've heard that name before." She studied him a moment, before a lightbulb went on in her head and she said, "Say… you're the guy who takes all his pics, aren't ya?"

"Yeah, that's me," he replied glumly at the reminder, not even noticing that someone knew his work by name.

"Hey, cheer up...." Amber told him, patting him on the shoulder. "You're so sad, you're gonna make me feel sad too."

"Sorry," Peter shrugged. She dropped her hand.

The elevator doors opened.

"Well that's my floor. It was a pleasure meeting you, Parker." She reached out to shake his hand, and he readily accepted.

He was slightly startled by how cool and soft her touch was. "Yeah."

"Maybe we can get together for lunch one day," she suggested. "Swap notes about how the freelancers don't get any respect."
"Sure," he replied flatly. "See you 'round..."

Peter got off on his floor, went to his locker and retrieved his film. He headed for the dark room and went about his day just like any other, except for a nagging pain in his chest, most inconveniently located in his heart.

*********

Mary Jane woke screaming. "Peter no!!!!!!!!!!" she cried, shooting straight up in bed, like one of those big screen movie mavens. She gasped for air, looking around the room. She was home, she was safe.

Sighing, she brushed back an errant string of red hair. "Oh Peter," she murmured, frowning. "Where are you when I need you?"

Another night of fitful tossing and turning, too afraid of her dreams to sleep and too sad to try to stay awake, had found her laying on her bed at 4 in the morning, wishing he'd come to her. As Spider-Man or as Peter. So long as he was at her door, or her window, there for her. She'd lain there, hoping, hoping to hear a rapping at her window pain, the doorbell, anything. But for naught. She needed him and for once he had not come. That had been scarier than any of her dreams.

Tossing the covers aside, she stood up, ready to greet another miserable day. Snowflakes tumbled from the sky; she watched them fall from heaven from her balcony doors. They silently reminded her that Christmas was not more than a week away. And not a soul to get a present for. "Well, except Gina, Aunt May and Aunt Anna," MJ told the snowflakes. "Least this year I can afford them in the first place." She sighed heavily and headed towards the bathroom to change. Maybe she could still get Peter something. Maybe she could make it up to him?

MJ turned on her shower, let it run while she waited for the water to warm, eyes staring listlessly ahead. "Yeah, and maybe I can fake amnesia and pretend last night never happened, too. Dream on, MJ." Shaking her head, she stripped off her night clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the warmth engulf her.

Closing her eyes, she let the feeling of the steaming water trickle down her spine overwhelm her. She thought of last night, of how wonderful it felt to kiss Peter. All she wanted was to do it again and again.

A small rap on the bathroom door. "Hey MJ!" Gina's voice called from the hallway.

"Hi Gina," MJ replied, shampooing her hair.

"Wanna go to Rockefeller Center with me tonight? Thought we could see the tree, do some shopping, maybe ice skate?" Gina suggested. "You know since neither of us ever have dates."

MJ frowned. She had meant to ask Peter if he wanted to do those things last night with her, before everything else had happened. He didn't even want to see her again, let alone shop with her. "Sure... sounds like fun."

**********

Later that day, once the sun had fallen, MJ and Gina headed out for the tree and their Christmas shopping.

"Let's skate first," Gina suggested. "Before we have any bags to lug around."

And so they had.

MJ felt like a robot moving along the ice, not even enjoying the sight of the gigantic tree or the sound of Christmas carols in the air, those things that usually brought her so much joy.

Gina frowned after a while, reaching into her pocket when she felt the vibration of her beeper. "Oh boy... that's the hospital."

MJ nodded. "Go on..."

"Sorry MJ...duty calls," Gina skated off.

"Don't I know it," MJ soon followed after, not even interested in shopping anymore.

But with nothing else to do, and not wanting to go back to the loneliness of the apartment, she forced herself into a few nearby stores, until she found something for Aunt Anna, Aunt May and Gina.

MJ almost allowed some Christmas spirit to cheer her as she passed some carolers on snowy streets. As she passed a photo shop, she stopped to stare into the window, gasping at the plethora of the gadgets advertised in the front display. "Peter would love something like this," she told herself, remembering the omnipresent camera in his hands. Then she caught her own reflection in the window. "Except Peter never wants to see your face again."

She turned from the store and decided she had to stop torturing herself. Peter had rejected her twice now and he'd hurt her. She had to stop thinking about him and treat him like any other man who'd hurt her. Forget them. Her dad, Flash, Harry and now Peter. Some stubborn part of herself refused to let Peter fit in their category. He was better than that. He was supposed to really love her.

She crossed the street and stopped to get a cup of hot chocolate from a cart vendor. Finding a seat on a bench lining the sidewalk, she sat down and looked at the trees, lit up in festive white lights that made the snow sparkle from their glow. The city was alive with shoppers rushing down the streets to get their shopping lists filled, their presents wrapped, their Christmas cards sent. Some took an easier pace, just walking and enjoying the beauty of the city during the holidays. There were lots of couples holding hand, sharing secret whispers in each other's ears, snuggling close to keep out the December chill.

MJ sipped her hot chocolate, pulling her purple scarf closer to cover her exposed neck. She shivered from the cold. Part of her wondered if it would just be better if she sat there all night and didn't move, if she'd freeze in the night. Would anyone even notice she was gone? Realizing she was being more melodramatic than usual, she mentally berated herself, desperately trying to talk herself out of the funk she was in. She reminded herself that she was strong, and independent, and above all, that she would let no man drag her down anymore. It worked for a little while.

Her shoulders slumped after a minute, a sign of complete defeat. No man would bring her down except for one, the one who had always been there to remind her that not all men were out to hurt her, that some of them actually had hearts.

A couple walked past her along the sidewalk, one's face buried in today's edition of the Bugle.

"Can you believe Spider-Man saved a whole crowd of people yesterday, and then another woman last night?! He's all over the place these days. I don't know why some people think he's a bad guy...spider...whatever... Seems like he just wants to help if you ask me... he must have to sacrifice his whole lifestyle to help people out, what with all the trouble people can get into in a city like New York. I really wish the Bugle would give him more credit...." the woman ranted to her spouse, tossing the paper into the corner garbage pail in a flurry of disgust. "I mean... its Christmas time for heaven's sake."

Her voice faded as they crossed the streets.

MJ frowned, turning her empty cup in her hand. Just the mention of Spider-Man made her body go cold all over. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, resolved not to cry right here on the street. But it was because of Spider-Man that Peter had rejected her. And she couldn't help wishing Spider-Man had never come to exist.

But, it was wrong to wish such a horrible thought. And terribly selfish. Peter couldn't help it, she assumed. She wondered if she'd be so courageous with such awesome powers. Would she'd be willing to give up everything a normal life offered just to help out a city full of ungrateful, untrusting people? But he had done so much for the city. It would be selfish to wish he hadn't come about. All those people he'd saved wouldn't have been saved, if he hadn't been there. Heck, she'd more likely than not be dead herself, had he not come to be. Still, she wished she didn't have to share him with the millions of New Yorkers, wished he didn't have to run off at all hours of the day and night, leaving his own life behind to give them back theirs. But then, he wasn't hers to share anyway.

Her altruism melted at the thought. Peter didn't belong to them. No, Peter was hers as far as she was concerned. She loved him, despite his rejection of her feelings. New York could have Spider-Man if they so desired, but when Peter Parker was involved, MJ was determined to make him see they needed each other.

With some new resolve, she stood up, tossed her cup in the garbage, and set off into the now heavily falling snow, back towards the camera store. Maybe she could still get him something, just incase.

The snow pelted her face as she shivered, quickening her pace. A storm had to be on the rise. It had been sprinkling all day, but it seemed that in the last few minutes, everything had gotten colder, darker, harsher. She wondered how the weather could take such a turn for the worse, when just a little while ago it had been quite pleasant. She tightened her hold on her bags and buried her face into her scarf. The songs of the carolers were dying out as people headed for shelter and stores' bright Christmas lights began to dim, signaling the end of the business day.

*************

Peter poured a piping hot cup of coffee, watching the snow fall from the skyline windows of the Bugle. He set down the pot and stared outside at the small flakes, almost transfixed by each one. Snow tended to remind him of the holiday seasons coming and that would usually put some cheer in his heart and a smile on his lips. But the thought of his first Christmas without Uncle Ben and all the hurt he caused Mary Jane made his heart feel as cold as each of the snowflakes were. He'd been fighting a bout of melancholy all day and it was only getting worse as the day passed on. Even something as cheerful as snow had once been to him turned cold and harsh.

"Now get outta here and don't you come back with another one of these 'he's a hero' story again!!" Jameson's booming voice filled the room.

In any other work place, a voice so loud and filled with such anger would be enough to make everyone stop what they were doing, but not at the Bugle. It was as if everyone had grown so used to Jameson's hollering that they tuned him out. Or they all had ear plugs.

A door slammed shut and feet stomped across the news room to the worker's lounge area. Which was really a folding table and folding chairs with only with a coffee pot, mini fridge and small microwave as supplies. Any goodies, such as the box of donuts with colorful sprinkles and frosting, the bagels or cookies laid out on the table were brought in from the staff.

Peter, who was lost in thought was oblivious to the grumblings and banging of styrofoam cups coming from the woman beside him. He was only brought out from his trance when he felt something poking his arm. He turned, wondering who would interrupt his staring contest with the snowflakes.

He was greeted with the sight of a flustered but still well kept looking Amber. "Hey..."

"You ok there Parker? You look like you lost your best friend..." Amber remarked frowning.

"Yeah, 'm fine..."

He looked down at the table, which was now filled with destroyed styrofoam cups. "You one of those mother nature activists or did the cups do something to insult you?"

She laughed, looking glum when her laughter died. "Jameson hated my story..."

Peter frowned, sympathizing. "I'm sorry..."

"Oh, he's still gonna use it... Spider-Man was right tho... He's gonna re-word the parts I called him a hero for. Blame him putting my life at risk." she crunched another cup in frustration. "It's not fair..."

Peter shrugged. He wouldn't expect anything less from JJ. "Jonah's very stubborn."

"I promised Spider-Man I'd defend him. Now he'll think I sold him out for a story...." Amber shook her head.

"Aww... 'm sure he'll understand. He's a pretty understanding guy..." Peter comforted.

"That's right! You see him a lot Parker. Can you tell him for me? Tell him I'm sorry..." she asked.

"Only if you promise to call me Peter. Whenever you say Parker I have bad flashes of what Jameson would be like as a woman...Parker!!! I want better pictures!!" Peter mocked Jameson in a girly voice.

Amber laughed so hard it made Betty Brant and a few others look up at them with curiously.

Peter realized again that her laughter seemed musical. It made him smile, and hoped he cheered her up. "Don't worry, when you're a star reporter like Ben is, Jameson won't be able to change your words..."

"You think I could be that good one day?" Amber tilted her head to the side, much like a dog who needed affection would.

"Sure!" Peter answered. So what if he hadn't even read any of her work. It was the nice thing to say. He'd be disowned by Aunt May if he didn't say the respectful thing.

"Thanks Peter..." she put a hand on his shoulder. "That's real nice of you...."

"No problem," he shrugged.

"Maybe..." she paused, her fingers beginning to massage his shoulder. "when we have that lunch one day I can bring a few stories for you to read..." she offered.

Her voice was lost on Peter because he felt a tingle at the back of his neck. Spider sense.

He looked around but saw no immediate danger.

Weird.

"Huh?" he said to Amber. He scanned the room more carefully, distracted by trying to find the source of danger.

Amber removed her hand from his shoulder to grab a cookie. "Lunch, 'll bring some stories for you to read."

"Oh... sure..." he replied, eyes still darting around the room. His spider sense died down and the tingling was gone.

*Huh*... he thought.

"Well, I better go see if I can find a new story to work on, see ya later Peter..." she finished her cookie and was gone.

Sirens rang from the streets outside.

Peter looked down below and saw a cop car fly down the streets past the Bugle building.

A newspaper intern rushed into the news room and held a white sheet of paper in his hand over his head. "Store robbery on 22nd and Park Ave!"

Peter's spider sense went off again and he dashed across the room along with a few reporters wanting to get to the scene to cover the story. All Peter wanted was to help.

He ran up the stairs when all the reporters had disappeared down the stairwell. There were only 2 flights of stairs to the roof. Once he pushed open the roof door, he began tearing off his blue button down shirt and beige khakis as he ran for the ledge. He managed to toss his shoes off just as he got to the edge of the roof. He pulled on his mask and was off into the snowy night.
Freefalling about twenty stories down, the frigid air nipped at him and he squinted his eyes instinctively, even though his mask protected him from the brunt of the bitter wind and falling snow. He let out a webline and soared across the sky towards 22nd street. As he webslinged along he noticed the wind had picked up and the snow was getting faster and thicker. He shivered from the cold wind rushing to meet him with each giant swing he made.

Twenty-second street couldn't have come fast enough for him. He was almost grateful to hear the police sirens blocks from the scene and the sounds of gunshots below him. He jumped down from a store awning and and peered inside the window of a gift shop.

The first thing he noticed was the twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around the store window. Then the warmth seeping from inside through the shattered glass hit the face of his mask. He felt a tremor run through him, but this time not from the cold. It came from the scene in front of him. A young boy was being held at gunpoint by a robber. The mother of the boy was crying desperately for his release.

The cashier was filling a burlap bag with register money and some silver and gold items from behind the cashwrap. His eyes kept darting to the armed man and the helpless little boy.

Peter cursed the situation and wondered how he could get the boy away safely. The barrel of the gun was pressed right against his head, one wrong shot with his webbing and the boy was dead.

Believe it or not, the kid appeared to be the most calm of them all. His eyes darted around but he made no gasps or cries.

Spider-Man ducked when the boys eyesight crossed his path, but the boy's eyes lit up and he knew he'd been spotted. *Don't do anything crazy kid....*

And as he said it, the boy stomped his foot over his assailant and slipped from his grasp.

Spidey jumped into action, leaping through the broken glass into the store. He went head first and bowled himself into the robber.

"Yeah Spider-Man!!!" the boy pumped his fist, laying on the floor with a huge grin.

The boy's mother ran to him and encirlced him in her arms.

Spidey leapt to his feet, putting his body between the robber and the family. "What'd the kid do to you? Steal your supply of lollipops?! It's not nice to be a big bully you know... There's always someone bigger than you in the playground and someone always gets hurt. Today must be your lucky day..." he threatened the man by pounding his fist into his open palm.

The robber's eyes lit up in fear. He pulled a switchblade from his back pocket. He lunged at Spider-Man hoping to slash him.

Spidey jumped backwards, avoiding the slashing motion the robber made with his weapon. He knocked the weapon from his hand with a quick swat and threw a kick into the guys chest.

The robber flew across the store, hitting the wall with a sickening thud.

Spidey let his guard down momentarily to check on the kid. He turned to the mother and son and examined them. "You ok kid?"

"Wow Spider-Man... You're awesome!!" the kid looked up at him in astonishment.

"Thanks... maybe its not too late to have my own cartoon afterall..." Spidey joked. "Whaddya think? Would ya watch?"

"He's getting away!!!" the cashier cried.

Spidey whipped around in time to see the robber was on his feet and he was making a mad dash for the outside.

Peter was off a beat slow, surprised by the robber's actions. He cursed to himself as the robber managed to jump into an awaiting getaway car. Tires squealed on the slick pavement and they were off into the blizzard of wind and snow.

Spidey ran out the door. He groaned in protest while being assaulted by the cold and heavy snow once again. "Awww shucks..." he grumbled watching the car speed away. "Wait for me guys! Getting a taxi in this weather is ludicrous!" he ran off down the sidewalk, jumping into the bitter cold air and shooting a webline to the closest building. He swung as fast as he could hoping to catch the car before they crashed and got themselves or someone else killed.

*********

Thankfully MJ made it into the camera shop before the storm really kicked in. She found some of the gadgets she saw in the window and after some rushed help from the store owner, who wanted to close up for the night, she picked out a few that worked together and hoped Peter would like them.

She was back out into the blistering cold before she knew it. The lights around her were dim, and everything was a blur of blackness against the pristine snow. It reminded her of the electronic snow you saw on a TV screen at 3 in the morning when the channels stopped broadcasting for the night. She squinted, trying to see the street ahead of her as wind rushed past her ears, screeching and stinging. She shivered uncontrollably through her thickest winter coat. "Just what I need, a sudden blizzard," she muttered to herself, unhappily.

The city had literally gone to sleep in the time it had taken her to get Peter's present. Cars were no longer rushing about, zooming in and out of traffic; people were no longer scurrying down the streets dodging the snow and each other. Even the street lights seemed to be on hiatus. It was nearly black as pitch, except for the telltale inches of snow growing into feet rapidly around her.

MJ's heartbeat quickened. All these signs couldn't be good. How had she completely missed out on a news bulletin about a storm this bad? Or perhaps it came with such sudden ferocity there was no time to give anyone much warning. In any case, there were no cabs in sight, (though truthfully she couldn't be sure, as it was hard to see her own hands in front of her, let alone into the streets) and she was at least 20 minutes from home on foot. With the way this storm was blowing in, she'd be buried alive in the ice if she didn't get a move on it. Huddling her bags closer around her, she clenched her numb fingers and picked up her pace a bit. She squinted against the flurries of snow falling on her face and made out a faint light in front of her. It looked like one of the trees she'd been sitting in front of on the bench, decorated in bright white lights. She struggled to see what if that was what was in front of her, but it was impossible to be certain.

Concentrating so hard on the beacon before her, she failed to pay attention to her footing, and lost her balance as the sidewalk ended to meet the street. She yelped; pin wheeled to try and regain her balance, stumbling clumsily to the street. She hit the ground hard, and groaned with pain. Her vision swam momentarily and she was assaulted by shooting pains firing up her knees and palms. Through the thick snow, she looked down at her gloved hands, the soft material now torn and stained red with blood from her scrapes. She didn't know what to grieve over more; her ruined gloves or the painful scratches. She sighed and tried to pick herself up, despite being buried in a mountain of snow and shopping bags. Tears stung her eyes with the effort. Her knees were cold and wet with snow and blood. She was sure they'd taken the brunt of the fall, which could only mean they would be worse off than her hands.

Looking up, she noticed the lights growing closer, so she must've tumbled into the middle of the intersection. She only hoped her presents hadn't wound up as broken as she was. Finally managing to get to her feet under her, she attempted to stand and again noticed the lights growing closer. MJ's mind sprung into alert, realizing those were no Christmas lights. "Oh God..." she gasped, eyes widening. A car was plowing down the slick street, sliding uncontrollably along the fresh snow and right at her. There was no way the driver would notice her in time, not with the snow marring his view and negating his traction. She attempted to run, but her battered knees wouldn't comply, nor would the slickness of the street. She slipped again, landing ungracefully on her thigh and elbow. She could only lie there, staring at the approaching headlights, counting the seconds until impact. She closed her eyes shut tightly and prayed it would be quick, that it would be painless.

The first thing she felt was the rush of the wind as the car hurtled towards her, the heat from the engine warming her, telling her that next she would feel the crushing impact of metal and tires against her.

But there was no impact, no pain, just warmth and wind.

She dared to peel open her eyes and she screamed.

She screamed not for fear of the death that had come to greet her however, but for wonder and deliverance from certain doom. She found herself flying in the air above the city, blinded by the snowflakes, cheeks stung pink by the whipping wind. She knew that the red and blue-clad figure clutching her frame tightly against his was no car here to run her down, but her savior, her hero, for the umpteenth time.

They swung surely and speedily across town in the billowing snow storm, as if the sky were clear, as if he knew precisely where he was, what they were doing. MJ had no idea how he could see anything at all, but trusted him implicitly, clinging to him, knowing he would get them out of this. She heard the familiar THWIP sound of his webbing shooting from his wrists and attaching to the buildings, each one swinging them from one concrete pillar to the next, ever closer to home. She felt him twist her to his side as his feet made impact with the corner of the building and he pushed off, gaining momentum towards their next destination. MJ tightened her hold on him, felt as he twitched almost imperceptibly with pain. She loosened her death grip on his side, remembering his injury too late. He lost his concentration and they came crashing into the next building, with his other shoulder and foot taking the most damage, making sure she avoided any contact with the wall of the building.

Peter gripped onto the building with his free hand and managed to get his feet planted firmly while she dangled from his grasp. "Hang on!" he growled, infuriated with his screw up. He righted her in his arm again, making sure she was secure before slinging off towards the nearest building he could see.

The snow was making everything very difficult to handle, and he knew taking her all the way to her apartment would be too far a journey for the both of them in this wretched weather. Making a decision, he made a sharp left and swung low. Thankfully, his apartment was much closer than hers. He hoped. The snow made his internal sense of direction rather off center, and he peered down into the streets, searching for any sign that his apartment was near. The scent of hot pizza suddenly reached his nostrils, and he smiled. Dante's Pizza Shop was right next to his apartment complex; he knew that smell anywhere. *When all else fails... trust your nose,* he told himself.

Finally, his feet touched down on his small balcony and he set her on her own feet before any more harm could possibly come to her. "Come inside!" He yelled over the screaming winds, yanking the door open.

They hustled inside, Peter slamming the door shut behind him. He shivered, hopped up and down, and rubbed his arms, trying to get warm again. He turned his attention to her. "Mary Jane, are you okay?"

She nodded numbly, shivering uncontrollably, part from shock, part from fear, and mostly from the cold.

"You're soaking wet..." Peter observed, eyes narrowing with concern. He reached out to help her take her coat off, but pulled back at the last minute, afraid to touch her.

For the first time since the car, she noticed that her packages were still wrapped around her arms, and she let them tumble gracelessly to the floor, no longer caring if they all blew up, let alone broke. Noticing his hesitance to touch her, she couldn't help but be glad he hadn't had such qualms before swooping in to rescue her. "H-how..." her lips trembled and she wrapped her arms around her middle coat. "H-h-h-h-ow d-do you al-always know?" she asked, shaking.

Peter's resolve broke and he didn't care if she slapped him silly later on, but he needed to get her out of those cold clothes. "It was luck this time, MJ," he admitted, knowing if he hadn't have been chasing that car from a store robbery, she would have been dead. He gripped the ties of her coat, gingerly undoing the knot. He looked at her through the slots in his mask, and saw how chilled she was, her lips turning blue, her slight frame chattering. "That car that almost hit you was a get away vehicle in a store robbery. I'd been chasing them for a few blocks, and it just so happened that when we turned the corner, my spider sense went nuts." Peter stopped, forcing the thoughts of how destroyed he would have been if he'd been too late, if he hadn't saw her flash of red hair in the street ahead of them. "I…I um, I saw someone standing and falling in the street," he continued, easing her arms out of the coat as she watched him, transfixed. The jacket fell to the floor, pooling around her ankles. "I'm just glad I saw you in time."

She nodded her agreement, her arms immediately going back to hug herself for warmth. "T-thanks..."

"Let me find you some warm clothes. Sorry I couldn't take you home..." Peter turned away, walking towards the closet in search of some sweats. "I couldn't see anything in front of me anymore and I didn't want to risk it."

"P-p-p-eter," she whispered, teeth chattering.

He turned to her.

"Take the mask off please..." she asked. "I…I... can't..."

He obliged carefully, eyes meeting hers as he dropped the mask on his desk. "I know this is the last place you wanna be right now MJ. But, the storm's so bad and you'll catch your death if you go now." He found a pair of sweat pants and a fleece pullover. "Here... change into these. It'll warm you up."

She held out her hand to receive the clothing and he gasped.

"MJ, you're bleeding!" He dropped the clothes and gripped her hand gently in both of his, investigating the scrapes.

Her hand shook in his and he met her eyes, wondering if it was all cold, or partly from his touch. "T-they're just scrapes..." She felt her body warm instantly from within at his touch. "A price to pay to save my presents..." Her eyes found the bags tossed onto the floor.

Peter followed her line of sight and frowned. Always thinking of others.... He turned back to her and found that he had been stroking her wrist absentmindedly. He stopped. "Can I help you clean these up?"

She was a bit surprised. She wanted to spit out something about him not caring but she ached so much for his comfort right now, she needed his help. At her nod, he showed her into the bathroom, where she sat down on the cushioned toilet seat.

He pulled out a first aid kit from the medicine cabinet and rummaged through it until he found what he needed. "You'll have to take care of your knees once you change... these bandages will come right off with your jeans…" He stopped himself, blushing a little.

She managed a frigid smile at his shyness. The moment that mask came off he was so insecure. "I'll... do it once you finish with my hands."

He felt an uncomfortable silence build as he nursed her wounds. "So, just what the hell were you doing in this storm?"

"Sh-shopping." She shrugged.

"Just like a woman..." Peter tsk-ed.

"For presents...I had no idea there was a storm coming." She winced as he cleaned out the scrapes. "I was on my way home, and I couldn't see anymore. I fell... and then there was the…" she stopped, shuddering from the thought of the car boring down on her. "…it came from nowhere."

He nodded. "I was chasing those guys and the next thing I know I'm covered in white stuff. This suit isn't thermal you know," he joked lightly. Where had that come from?

She chuckled. He always knew how to make her feel better. She sighed, having missed him so much.

"Must be some pretty important presents there. You managed to hang onto them even after I swooped down and grabbed you." Peter wrapped the gauze gently around her hand.

"For Aunt May and Anna and my roommate." She winced again as he began to apply the same treatments to her left hand. "And you."

Peter froze, felt like a knife was being stuck and twisted into his heart. "Me?" he whispered.

She lowered her gaze and nodded, seeming embarrassed. "Yeah, Pete. You."

He was speechless, after everything that had happened last night... after everything he'd said…she still... he lowered his head ashamed. "MJ...."

"I… I don't want anything in return. You don't have to..." she rambled. "I know after last night..."

"MJ, I'm so..."

"No, its okay Pete," she shushed him. "I...you... saved my life again. That's all I need," she replied, standing as he finished wrapping her left hand. "Thanks for fixing my hands... I'll just go grab those clothes you gave me and take care of the rest. I'll stay out of your hair 'til the storm passes, promise."

And she was out the door.

Peter couldn't have felt lower than he did right now. He swallowed hard and bowed his head. How he could've hurt her like that...

After wallowing in self pity until she returned, he stood and left the bathroom so she could change.

MJ shut the door behind him and bit on her chapped lips, hoping not to cry. Dropping her soaked-through clothes onto the floor, she moved to bandage her bruised and bloody knees. Then, she pulled on the large sweat pants and the pullover sweater he had given her. She inhaled his scent on them, and her head whirled in a bout of head-over-heels-in-love dizziness. She had to steady herself against the sink. Burying her cheek against the soft fabric of the collar, she closed her eyes and smiled softly, lost in the scent that was distinctly his. Her heart ached at the same time, wishing it was really him holding her, and not his smell on the clothes. She sighed, staring in the mirror at her frazzled looks. "God MJ, you look terrible."

Peter turned the thermostat up, filling the apartment with a warm stuffiness, perfect for winter. He shivered and went to put some coffee on. He'd just started brewing a pot when he heard the door close upstairs and she emerged at the top of the steps.

He turned his attention to her and sighed. She immediately looked better, warmer, out of those wet clothes. Her cheeks had some healthy color now and her lips were regaining some of their vivacity. She looked ravishing, even in oversized clothing and having just returned from a near death experience in the middle of a blizzard.

"I'm making some coffee. It'll help you warm up," he informed her, once his mind got over how much he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close.

She nodded, coming down the stairs. "Thanks."

He fiddled with getting the mugs out, afraid to talk or look at her, afraid she'd see the adoration, the love in his eyes.

"Peter, you should change," she broke in suddenly, coming up from behind him.

"I'm okay," he assured her, shaking his head. Droplets of melting snow-water fell in his eyes as he did.

"No you're not, you're shivering and you're soaked through," she countered, touching the red fabric of his shoulder. "Go on and change."

He nodded in defeat, finally noticing that he was freezing and not getting any warmer. He retreated up the stairs to change. When he came back down she was pouring the steaming black liquid into mugs for them.

He'd changed into gray sweats and a navy-blue long sleeve v-neck with a white t-shirt underneath. "Warmer?"

"A bit." He shivered a little still, the cold having seeped into his very bones.

"Here." She handed him the warm mug.

He took it with shaking hands and plopped onto the sofa.

She blew on hers, sipped it slowly, letting the liquid fill her with its warmth. She eyed the storm through the windows, still raging in all its fury outside, and fought back another shudder. It seemed to be coming down even harder now than it had before. "Sorry 'll be stuck here for a while. I know you must want me out of your way," she started, looking at the mug between her hands.

"MJ, it's not like that," Peter protested, as he set down his mug. "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're okay..."

She sat on the opposite end of the sofa, turned up at his words, a question in her expression. "But last night you..."

"MJ, I got scared and things got out of hand last night. You surprised me, and I…I overreacted," Peter began to apologize.

"Really?" her eyes lit up.

"I shouldn't have treated you so harshly. I'm sorry for hurting your feelings, MJ," Peter sighed, one hand going through his hair in embarrassment. "I was wrong to act that way."

"Oh Peter, I knew you didn't mean it. I kinda backed you in a corner and attacked you from all ends. I... was so sure of myself and I was so sure that you were just protecting me." She inched closer to him, bandaged hands gently cupping his cheeks. "I knew that you would want to be with me. I knew that you loved me!"

Peter swallowed hard, seeing that light in her eye, hearing her words, and knowing he'd have to strike them all down. Again. This was going all wrong. "Slow down, MJ," he begged her, gingerly pulling her hands from his cheeks. "Let me finish."

She sat ramrod straight, affected by his tone. He watched some of the light fade from her eyes.

"Mary Jane... I care about you a lot." *Ok, good so far Pete, not a lie.* "I worry now more than before because you know the truth about me. You're very special MJ..." *Ok, still the truth there.* "…and I can't chance you getting hurt by someone because you know who I am…" *still good* "…I was wrong to kick you out last night, and I want a second chance…" *whoa there, cowboy* "…for us to be friends. So can you ever forgive me?"

"Friends?" Her voice sounded far away.

"Yeah. Peter Parker's friend, not Spider-Man's. And even still, I need you to promise not to tell anyone we're friends. If someone should find out..." He stopped at the look on her face. *Oh that did it, she's gonna explode again.*

"Friends?!!" Her small frame shook with rage. "If you can even call what you're offering me friendship. Frankly, Pete maybe it be better if you just tell me you never want to see my face again!" she argued. "That's what you really want, isn't it?" She felt her temperature rising rapidly. "Honestly, I didn't ask for Spider-Man to save me, or to learn the truth! Maybe it'd be better if you hadn't saved me at all tonight!" she shouted.

"Don't say that MJ!" he gripped her arm. "I couldn't bare the thought of something happening to you."

The emotion she caught in his eyes made her heart break even more. "Peter, you're really confusing me. I love you, more than I thought I ever could love someone. No matter how many times you hurt me, I keep coming back because I need YOU. Not Spider-Man but YOU. And I know you need me too. Then you toy with my feelings, telling me I'm special and you care about me, on top of all those wonderful things you said about me in the hospital, and then you turn right around tell me you don't feel that way, you don't love me, and you never could. Why can't you see?! We're in this together. Let me help you, please. I want to take care of you. I want you to take care of me. I want to love you." She trembled, he could feel it with his hand resting on her shoulder. "I want you to love me..."

"I can't MJ!" he shouted in frustration, dropping his hand back to his side. "You can't possibly understand!" He buried his head in his hands and groaned. Why did this have to hurt so much?! Why was it so hard?!

"Then why don't you help me understand then?!" she pleaded.

He shook his head, shrinking away. "MJ all I can offer you is friendship. It's all I want from you." *There goes that bitter white lie again Pete, way to slap her in the face!!!*

"Well, I guess that's better than you never wanting to see me again..." she sighed, leaning back, sounding defeated.

He was shocked by her giving in. He cocked his head to the side, studying her. "Huh?"

She forced a smile to her face. *Don't think I give in that easily, Peter Parker. You may tell me all you want is friendship but I love you and I know you love me too.* "I guess I have no choice, right?"

"Uh…right," he nodded, trying to sound assertive.

She nodded, changed the subject. "Still pretty cold in here..." She looked past him to the window. "Looks like I might have to stay the night..."

Peter studied her carefully, after a while, allowed himself a grin. Just what did she think she was up to? Her attitude just did a total 180 in the span of half a second. "Guess so."

She looked around, wrinkling her nose. "No Christmas decor yet? Pete, you can't possibly not have any Christmas spirit."

"Well, look how well Thanksgiving went, remember?" he snorted.

"Everything turned out ok in the end," she reminded him.

*Tell that to Harry and Norman...And now look at us, barely clinging to friendship when we both love each other so much. My touch is like poison. Everything dies…*

She saw him zone off and wondered what he was thinking about right now. She desperately wanted to know everything, how he became Spider-Man, how the Green Goblin died, why he decided to save lives… but she knew there was no way he'd risk telling her more than she already knew. He'd said just as much earlier. Instead, she opted to let him come on his own. "Hey... you okay? You're about a million miles away right now, Pete."

He snapped out of it, looking at those beautiful eyes of hers, noticing how gorgeous she was when she looked at him just like that. "Yeah..."

"So, do you even have any decorations?" MJ asked, finishing off her coffee.

"Actually, Aunt May dropped a few boxes off the other day. Been meaning to put them up but..." He paused, shrugged. "Got busy...you know with the night job."

"Does she know?" MJ asked.

"No!" he shook his head fervently. "No one knows but you, MJ. And it has to stay that way."

"Of course, Pete. I wouldn't tell anyone, you gotta know that..." She rested her hand on top of his.

"How are your injuries?" he asked, fingered the gauze.

"Better... now that you're here." She smiled, hoping he'd remember her tone from two nights ago when she'd said the very same to Spider-Man.

He blushed scarlet and cleared his throat. "Yeah…so you wanna help me decorate or what?"

"That's what friends do," she replied brightly.

"Yeah," he chuckled, not having missed the devious gleam in her eyes.