SD ~ Stan Lee, Marvel, Columbia. "Mad Season" belongs to Matchbox 20.

Nighthawks

-dutchtulips-

Midnight in the New York. A time in most cities where everything would be calm, quiet. People were asleep in their homes; streets were mostly empty. But not here. The city was hustling and bustling with activity, from New York's posh Plaza Hotel to the common residential boroughs. At every hour of the night there were lights, people in cars, and even trouble.

But no one knew this better than Spider-man himself, as he perched atop a high building downtown, overseeing quietly. The headlong view at the busy street, filled with cars and taxicabs, jarred Spider-man's memory of one of the first times he'd swung through the city. The street was right before him, and he shot out his webs, one after the other, diving past buildings and traffic.

It had been such a huge rush. Every time Spider-man hurled himself swinging into action, he felt that same old rush over and over again. Each time he'd jump from a rooftop and swing through the New York streets Spider-man had some sort of memory of. But perhaps the most exhilarating of these times was the one in which he'd had Mary Jane Watson hanging onto his neck.

Spider-man blinked and shook the fog from his brain. Ever since the incident, he'd promised himself to stop thinking about those sort of things. About love, and passion, and. . .Mary Jane. But really, it was impossible. The very thought of not thinking about Mary Jane in itself was absurd. And he felt absurd, stupid for thinking that he could really do that - stop thinking about her. Mary Jane was the one, the only one, but the one Spider-man couldn't let himself have. Not that it had been easy to reach that decision.

The incident. Every train of thought huffed and puffed its way back into the incident. He'd left that day, walked away, made it look simple, tried to convince himself that it was. He'd put on that look of defiance - one that was fake - and walked away with it still on, trying to persuade himself of that defiance. And somehow he'd done it.

And Peter had known that he was doing the right thing, but he wasn't - it was the wrong thing, too - hurting Mary Jane, making her feel unloved and unwanted, being dishonest, not telling the truth. But he had gotten the feeling - though he had not turned around - that he'd left Mary Jane with enough for her to figure it out. But if she had, he was not sure.

I feel stupid - but I know it won't last for long

I've been guessing - and I could've been guessing wrong

You don't know me now

I kind of thought that you should somehow

Does that whole mad season got you down

Spider-man blinked again and back to the present. Feeling somehow strangely fine, he shot out a gossamer strand of webbing and vaulted from the roof. He moved with precision, jettisoning the webs from his wrists and twisting in a determined direction. After several minutes of this, Spider-man released the last strand of the webbing and dropped, landing lightly on the roof of another building. He crept to the edge of the roof and looked across at the adjacent building, particularly at one apartment's balcony.

"I promised her I would always be there to take care of her," he muttered to himself. "Perhaps I should start living up to that."

The air was warm and Spider-man felt pretty okay, despite himself. Standing sentry to a young nineteen-year-old girl felt like watching the grass grow compared to his lately badlams with crooks he'd find himself in. Not that Spider-man was complaining, of course; it was heaven to have a break once in a while.

It sort of dawned on him then. I've really changed so much, he thought to himself. This Superman-fighting crime lifestyle I've been cultivating barely gives me time to sleep, let alone think about my life. But sometimes I do, and sometimes I feel sort of strange. Like right now, this moment, I'm sitting on a rooftop in this red-and-blue getup and standing sentinel over Mary Jane. Geez. . .when you freeze-frame a moment in your life it doesn't even feel like yours.

Spider-man shrugged to himself.

I feel stupid, but it's something that comes and goes

I've been changing - I think it's funny how no one knows

We don't talk about the little things that we do without

When that whole mad season comes around

That's when something happened that surprised Spider-man, causing an involuntary trickle of sweat to roll down behind his mask. The French doors to Mary Jane's balcony moved and one of them creaked open. Then the red-haired beauty padded out on the balcony, a pale pink dressing gown wrapped around her.

As Spider-man watched, Mary Jane dragged up a butterfly chair and sat down into it, letting her hands dangle over the balustrade. A gentle breeze wafted by suddenly, fluttering her red locks against her shoulders. Against his will, Spider-man's breath caught in his throat at the beautiful sight of her.

She looks so peaceful sitting there, as if she hasn't got a worry at all. But how could she not, after how I broke her heart? Spider-man silenced his thoughts. "Stop it," he muttered to himself. "You had to do it to keep her safe. I love her, I don't want something bad to happen to her and it be my fault."

You've been using that argument for too long, he argued back. And I lied to her. How's that supposed to help?

And then it happened. Mary Jane's dreamy gaze swept across the landscape, and she and Spider-man's eyes locked.

He was bewildered to see her smile slightly, and then she gave him a small wave. Spider-man didn't respond, but before he knew what he was doing, he shot out a strand of gossamer and vaulted from the roof, down to Mary Jane's balcony and landed lightly in front of her.

He felt uneasy under her gaze; Mary Jane seemed to stare at him for a long while. A strange thought seized Spider-man; her stare made him believe that she knew - that she knew everything - but before when he was half-hoping Mary Jane would figure it out, he found himself hoping that she didn't.

So why you got to stand there

Looking like the answer now

It seems to me you'd come around

I need you now

Do you think you can cope

You figured me out - I'm lost and I'm hopeless

I'm bleeding and broken - though I've never spoken

I come undone - in this mad season

"Hello," she finally whispered, softly. "You're out late."

"So are you," he answered.

"It's just, very nice, this time of night. The little bit of peacefulness helps me think." Mary Jane shifted in the chair. When she noticed that Spider-man hadn't moved since his arrival, she rose herself, moving a little closer to him and leaning against the balustrade.

". . .Thank you for. . .saving my life, again." Mary Jane twisted a lock of her hair. "I owe you it, actually."

Spider-man smiled slightly beneath the mask. "No. Seeing you alive is enough for me, MJ."

She smiled, too. "Thank you."

He watched her as her gaze shifted back to the landscape, and the way Mary Jane held herself. She seemed so lost and hurt, and vulnerable. The reality sank in once more as Peter, behind the mask of Spider-man realized that he was the one who had caused it.

He decided to be casual and as if he didn't know. "You seem sad."

Mary Jane, her arms wrapped around herself, nodded. "I took a chance, I reached out, for love. Let's just say it didn't reach out for me." She glanced sideways at him.

"I'm sorry." Spider-man didn't know how else to respond.

She shook her head, as if to put an end to the conversation. He knew, and otherwise could tell, that Mary Jane was thinking about him - Peter. Her eyes seemed so solemn, her body seemed so frail. He almost feared that she would fall over and shatter into a thousand pieces.

I feel stupid - but I think I've been catching on

I feel ugly - but I know I still turn you on

You grow colder now, torn apart, angry, turned around

Will that whole mad season knock you down

Suddenly Mary Jane cocked her head, studying him. "It's sort of amazing, isn't it?"

Spider-man returned her glance. "What is?"

A small smile flickered across her face. "The way that. . .someone can put on something. . .and it changes their name. . .and their personality. . ."

He moved. "You mean me."

"It's something I've wondered about you. It's has to be hard, doesn't it?" Mary Jane asked.

"It does. It is." Spider-man let out a breath. "It's always hard."

She inched slightly closer, wrapping her fingers around the balustrade. "Does anyone know?"

He tilted his head to the side, in thought. "That's another thing that makes it hard. I can never know, really. Someone can always find out." Spider-man followed her suit.

Mary Jane smiled enigmatically. "Like me?"

He was taken aback. "Er. . .what do you mean, MJ?" Spider-man gazed at her.

She came even nearer, so close that she reached out her hand and touched the black spider over his heart. Mary Jane could feel the quickness of Spider-man's heartbeat under her lithe fingers. In a soft, slightly husky whisper, she said the five words that were, to Spider-man, fateful. "I know who you are."

So are you going to stand there

Are you going to help me out

You need to be together now

I need you now

Do you think you can cope

You figured me out - I'm lost and I'm hopeless

I'm bleeding and broken - though I've never spoken

I come undone - in this mad season

He inched away from her touch, his heart climbing in his throat. "No, MJ. You - you don't."

To his surprise, the smile on her face didn't fade away. "I won't tell, I promise." Mary Jane paused. "It was the way your kiss was, that time in the rain; the way it felt. But it was more than that. It's the way you always arrive right on time to save my life. It's your voice, too."

Suddenly her expression changed, as if there were a feeling inside she were trying to hold in. "It's the way you're always there to comfort me, and the way your kiss felt. It's your voice." There was a pause. "It's the way I can't live my life without you. . .the way I can't stop loving you. . .And every time I come near you, I'm in agony, because you won't let me have you. . ." Mary Jane wiped away a tear.

Now I'm crying - isn't that what you want?

I'm trying to live my life on my own

But I won't

Spider-man watched all of this in pain. He'd caused this, all of this. He was hurting Mary Jane already. Something bad had happened to her. She felt alienated, unwanted, from the man she loved. Him. And it was his fault.

I've already made her pay, haven't I? And I did it on purpose; why? Is that supposed to make sense? Spider-man thought to himself. I've wronged so many times, and I can't fix any of them. Except this one. The one I've done on purpose is only one I can fix.

"Mary Jane," he whispered, coming closer.

She looked up and into Spider-man's face, following suit. "I know who you are," she reiterated, not knowing what else to say.

He was very tense in spite of himself; he knew what was coming next. It's strange, he thought, suddenly seized by a realization. Spider-man is a protector, he's fearless. . .but when it comes to Mary Jane Watson, he turns into Jello.

At times - I do believe I am strong

So someone tell me why, why, why

Do I, I, I feel stupid

And I come undone

And I come undone

Her gentle fingers came forward, tumbling against Spider-man's face and up under the hem of his scarlet mask. Mary Jane's touch brushed against his skin, and she could feel him tremble slightly. He stood very still as he felt the fabric peeling away from his skin.

Mary Jane's heart beat a bit faster, watching Spider-man's chin appear, his mouth, his nose, and then his eyes. A mop of brown hair materialized finally and the entire red mask was woven between her fingers. She blinked and looked up into Peter Parker's intense blue eyes.

Peter stared back into hers, feeling a little awkward as Mary Jane looked at him in his costumed body, but unmasked face.

"I love you," she whispered, her hands sliding onto his shoulders.

Peter smiled slightly, letting out a long breath. There was only one thing left to say.

"I love you, too."

I need you now

Do you think you can cope

You figured me out - I'm lost and I'm hopeless

I'm bleeding and broken - though I've never spoken

I come undone - in this mad season

el fin