Author: Frank Rochetansky PM
John Jameson puts his wedding to Mary Jane Watson on hold, suspecting that she still has feelings for an ex boyfriend. A furious Mary Jane blames Peter Parker for ruining her engagement, but finds that she cannot run from her inevitable destiny.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Romance - Chapters: 11 - Words: 13,214 - Reviews: 56 - Favs: 23 - Follows: 8 - Updated: 04-15-06 - Published: 03-31-06 - Status: Complete - id: 2870399
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
By Frank P. Rochetansky
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor has Marvel or Sony given me permission to use them. But I'm not interested in making money off this story, so what the h . . .
Author's note: I would like to thank the fan fic writers who inspired this piece with their very fine work, including Betty Brant, Jjonahjameson, HTBThomas and Georgia Kennedy.
Peter Parker stared longingly through the mirrored eyepieces of his mask at the well-lit billboard on Bleecker Street. From his vantage point, he was looking down upon the beautiful red-head with the Mona Lisa smile. The most beautiful . . . gorgeous . . . unattainable woman that God ever created, he thought sadly. In a few weeks, she was going to marry another man, and there was not a thing he could do about it.
Peter realized that he was probably deluding himself when he tried to talk Mary Jane out of it. He had reason to hope when she seemed glad that he had finally made it to her play and happy to take a walk with him through Chinatown. When she gazed at him, he thought he saw a clear, unmistakable longing in those forest-colored eyes. But the minute he suggested that they grab a bite, she turned from him and hailed a taxi, going out of her way to make it clear to him that she was going to marry Captain John Jameson of the United States Air Force, astronaut and glamorous all-American boy. It was though her mind had made itself up and was refusing to let her heart speak for itself. Peter hoped that she might change her mind about the wedding and give him a call. But alas, the call never came.
Maybe it's just as well, Peter reflected despondently as he continued to stare at Mary Jane's billboard, his hopes for even a small semblance of a normal life now all but gone. Fed up with playing hero after Mary Jane had announced her engagement, he threw his costume into a garbage can and tried to walk away from Spider-Man once and for all. But no sooner had he quit when things started happening. A college kid his age, probably one of his fellow students at E.S.U., had been assaulted by three leather-clad toughs. Acting on an impulse over which he had no conscious control and unable to stop himself, Peter broke up the attack, sent the punks running, and got the victim to a hospital. Then that fire broke out, and he nearly lost his lungs in rescuing a little girl. But when he heard that someone else in the building didn't make it out alive, he knew that he could no longer run from his destiny. There was no normal life for him to go back to. All that was left was his power, and his responsibility. And so, having no choice but to carry on, he reluctantly retrieved his costume and wearily assumed his responsibilities once more. But his awareness of his inevitable destiny only made the loss of Mary Jane more painful and bitter.
In the midst of his melancholy, Peter's spider-sense suddenly flared. Then a piercing scream echoed through the cold night air. With reflexes honed to razor-sharp perfection and lightning speed, he leaped off the ledge toward the source of the scream.
A woman was running for her life, being chased down by a gang of dangerous looking thugs, all wearing sleeveless leather jackets and sporting the insignia of a notorious street gang. In her fright, the woman had tripped on an empty beer bottle and had fallen to the sidewalk. The punks were closing in on her, all brandishing switchblades. One of them was getting ready to throw his knife, drawing a bead squarely on the woman's chest.
The knife-thrower never even had a chance. Just as he cocked his arm, the blade was knocked out of his hand by a web ball. His compatriots stopped dead in their tracks at the sound of the impact. Before they realized what was going on, they heard a sound behind them that was even more terrifying . . . the sound of boots hitting asphalt. Even in the dark, the hoodlums knew that the hiatus was over.
"Didn't anybody teach you guys how to treat a lady?" Spider-Man quipped as he went after the gang members with a ferocity that belied his wise-guy sense of humor. Moving faster than their eyes could see, Spider-Man incapacitated them with a few strategically placed blows and webbed them to a lamppost. It was all over in a matter of seconds.
That is, for everyone but the knife-thrower. In the heat of the attack, he managed to slip away from Spider-Man's grasp. As the victim was getting to her feet, he grabbed her by the hair and wrapped a big, muscular arm around her neck, covering her face with one hand holding his blade against her throat with the other.
"Back off man, he shouted. "Back off or she's dead!"
What a hopeless amateur, Spider-Man practically laughed to himself. This kind of operation was child's play to him. Before the knife-thrower could even react, the weapon and the woman were out of his hands. He felt gloved hands grab his arms and pin them behind his back. Then he felt himself being spun around, lifted off the ground, and held aloft by the lapels of his leather jacket.
"You still don't know what you're dealing with, do you?" Spider-Man intoned ominously with a crisp, theatrical British accent. "A perfect organism. It's structural perfection is matched only by it's hostility."
"You are one crazy son of a bitch!" the would-be assailant hissed.
"Didn't you ever see Alien?" Spider-Man retorted. "It was really a great flick. Made me think twice about going into dark places." And without further ado, he hurled the knife-wielder to the ground and tied him up with his colleagues.
With the hoods neutralized and rendered harmless, Peter quickly turned his attention the victim, who was still reeling from her dreadful encounter. "Are you all right, Miss?" he asked, reaching out a hand to gently help her steady herself. But when he saw her face, his heart nearly leaped out of his chest. It was the face that he most wanted and least expected to see . . . the face of . . . Mary Jane Watson!