by Stuart Moore
“Suzie?”
The figure in the doorway was bigger, bulkier than Reed. Ben Grimm’s rocky frame stood slumped, almost in defeat. Sue let out a relieved breath—which caught in her throat when she saw what he was holding.
Another suitcase. Fully packed.
Please understand, darling: This is not a cry for attention. This is not me trying to distract you from your all-important work.
This is because your hands, both our hands, are soaked in Bill Foster’s blood. And you’re so blinded by your graphs and projections and doomsday scenarios that you can’t even see it.
Today I broke the law. I helped a team of wanted felons escape duly deputized federal forces. Those felons happened to be some of our closest friends, who fell into those forces’ clutches out of a pure desire to help innocent people. But that doesn’t seem to matter.
Tony and his goon squad have their hands busy right now, licking their wounds and locking up prisoners and setting up their super hero training squads all over the country. If there’s a scrap of decency left in them, I hope they’re putting together a funeral for poor Bill Foster, too.
Sooner or later, though, they’ll come after me for what I’ve done. They’ll probably offer me amnesty, because of your importance to Tony’s plans. I don’t want to put you in that position—but more importantly, I don’t want their amnesty.
I want to do what’s right.
They stood together awkwardly for a moment. Each staring at the other.
“You’re leaving?” Sue said.
Ben pointed at her suitcase. “You’re leavin’?”
“I have to, Ben. After today.” She grimaced, felt tears rising again. “But what about you? I don’t—are you going to join Captain America’s group too?”
“Naw.” He dropped the suitcase; it landed with a loud THUNK. What does he have in there? Sue wondered. Spare rocks?
“Suzie, I took a long look around after the battle was over. At that chemical plant. There was toxic goo all over the floor, jagged glass an’ metal, not a wall left standing. Now, Tony had wrecked the place pretty good to start with, as part’a the trap. But I saw what we did, all of us, fightin’ like starved rats in that little space.
“An’ I couldn’t stop thinkin’: What if there’d been people around? What if one single civilian had sneaked past the barricades, a reporter maybe, an’ got himself crushed in between me an’ Luke Cage? Or under that big acid vat Falcon dropped?”
“I know.” Sue crossed to him. “Listen. I have a rendezvous scheduled for—”
“No no no! I don’t wanna know. I ain’t pickin’ sides here. Far as I can tell, Cap’s as guilty in all this as Tony Stark.”
Sue frowned. “What are you saying?”
“I’m sayin’ the registration law is wrong, an’ I can’t uphold a law I don’t believe in.”
“That’s what I’m—”
“But I’m still a patriot, Suzie. I love my country. I ain’t gonna fight the government, or let that government brand me like a criminal. So the way I see it, I only got one choice.
“I’m leavin’ the country.”
She stopped, took a step back. “Oh.”
“France, I figger. At least till this is over.” He glanced at the night table, and his big blue eyes grew misty. “Aw, hey. Look at that.”
Sue followed his gaze over to the model rocket. She picked it up, handed it to him. They stood together for a minute, staring at it.
“We were the first,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” He turned to her, an odd look in his eyes. “You ever regret it all, Suzie?”
“What?”
“All of it. The rocket flight, the powers. Followin’ Big Brain all over creation: into space, other dimensions, the freakin’ Negative Zone. The fights, the drama…you had a few other guys after ya there, for a while.”
She frowned. “Ben…”
“You ever regret marryin’ him? Settling down?”
She smiled sadly. “I’m not sure I’d call this ‘settled down.’”
“That ain’t an answer.”
A harsh buzzing rose from the communicator, lying on the bed. Sue snatched it up quickly.
Ben raised a massive eyebrow. “I ain’t seen one’a those for a while.”
She held up a finger, motioned him to wait. “Johnny?”
Her brother’s voice crackled through static. “You there, sis?”
“Hang on one minute, Johnny.” She turned back. “Ben—”
“I gotta go, Suzie. Good luck.”
“You—oh, you too, you big goof.”
“Just do me one favor, okay?” Ben’s face was very serious. “Stay away from Atlantis.”
“Sis? I can barely hear you.”
“Johnny, hold on—”
But when she turned back toward the door, Ben was gone.
You won’t hear from Johnny for a while either, Reed. I’ll take care of him, the way I’ve always done.
But where we’re going, I can’t take Franklin and Valeria. So I’m leaving them in your care. And I beg you, darling: Please find time for them, the time you’ve so often denied them in the past.
I also didn’t want your last memory of me to be tainted with all the fights we’ve had in the past few weeks. I’m glad we made love last night, and I want you to know it was amazing. It was always amazing.
Fantastic, even.
“Sis, we haven’t used these communicators in years. Where’d you even find them?”
“I couldn’t risk cell phones, Johnny. Tony Stark can see through satellites, these days.” She grimaced. “But I don’t think anyone uses this frequency anymore.”
“You always were the brains of the family. Well, our family.” Static rose again, then subsided. “…next move?”
“Where are you? Still at Marika’s?”
“Martika. Yeah, it’s—”
“Martika. No, don’t even tell me. Let’s meet in half an hour—say, outside the Blazer Club. Nobody’ll expect to see us there again.”
“Scene of the crime. I like it.”
“Be inconspicuous. But no stupid disguises. Leave the fake nose and glasses at home.”
“Aw, sis. The ladies love that one.”
“I gotta go, Johnny. See you soon. I love you.”
“You’re such a girl.”
The communicator went dead.
Sue turned back to the baby monitor. I should go see the kids, she thought. One last time. This is going to be hard on them.
But she knew: If I do that, I won’t leave.
She picked up the rocket model, hefted it in her hand. Held it over the suitcase, then turned away and placed it, carefully, back in the bureau drawer.
I’ll be back, she thought. I hope.
Then she zipped up the suitcase and turned invisible.
I hope I don’t look like a coward for leaving this way. I hope you don’t think I’m a bad wife or, even worse, a bad mother.
I’m doing this for the best of reasons. Tony Stark’s crusade was born out of noble intentions, I know that. But I also know, deep in my heart, that it will not lead anywhere good.
You’re the smartest person I know, Reed. And I hope, I pray, that your genius can resolve this situation before one side ends up slaughtering the other.
I love you, darling. More than anything in the world.
Fix this.
-Susan
“PETER, I tell you I’m fine. Nobody has threatened me, nobody’s—Peter, where are we going?”
Peter Parker glanced at the map on his phone, then leaned forward. “Take the next right,” he told the cabbie.
“It’s not that I love having policemen outside the house all the time,” Aunt May continued. “But they’ve been very nice.”
“They’re not policemen, Aunt May. They’re S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.”
“Either way, Mister Smarty. That doesn’t explain why I had to pack up my things and sneak out past them.” She looked out the window, grimacing in distaste. “And what a
re we doing in Brooklyn?”
The cabbie half turned toward them. “This block, sir?”
“I think so. Slow down.”
Like many New York neighborhoods, Fort Greene had come up a lot over the past decade. Rows of old brownstone buildings had been cleaned, refaced, and restored to their 19th-century splendor.
“Peter—”
“Just a minute, Aunt May. Please.” He frowned, peered out the window. “Should be the next one on the…whoa.”
The cab lurched to a halt.
“Whoa it is,” the driver said.
Aunt May clutched at Peter’s shoulder now, afraid. He turned to smile at her, gently removed her fingers. Then he opened the door and stared.
Most of the block was lined with concrete sidewalks and plain iron railings. But in front of one particular building, the sidewalk had been replaced with elegant, old-fashioned flagstones. Plants grew everywhere: Inside the fence, along the sidewalk, lining the steps leading to the main entrance. A young maple tree sprouted from a square cut into the walk, dirt still mounded around its base.
He frowned, double-checked the address. No mistake.
“Peter.” Aunt May struggled with her suitcase. “Didn’t I teach you to help a lady with her bag?”
He hefted the suitcase easily, paid the cab driver, and led Aunt May up the steps—all in a daze. His heart was pounding. This wasn’t going to be easy, and the appearance of the house made him feel like he’d stepped into some mirror-world.
Maybe she won’t be home, he thought. And then: No. She has to be.
She answered the door in jeans spotted with dirt and grass stains, a casual shirt tied up at her lovely waist. Her long red hair was tousled, hint of sweat on her brow. She held a trowel in one hand.
Her eyes went wide with shock. “Oh my God.”
“Mary Jane,” Peter said.
They stood together for an awkward moment, staring at each other. The thought flickered through Peter’s mind: Is she gonna stab me with the trowel?
Then Aunt May pushed past him, her arms wide. “Dear,” she said. “It’s been too long.”
Still stunned, Mary Jane reached out and hugged the older woman. But her gaze stayed on Peter.
“Good to see you, Aunt May,” MJ said slowly. “Why don’t you sit down and have some tea. I think your nephew and I need to talk.”
MJ’S backyard was, if anything, even more impressive than the front. It was vast, covered with green: bushes, tomato plants, neatly tended rows of flowers. A carriage house stood beyond, with an arched glass-tiled roof; she’d converted it into a greenhouse.
Peter looked around, amazed. “This place is…it’s really something, MJ.”
She stooped down, hastily tamped down a hole she’d been digging. “It’s largely self-sustaining, Tiger. The walls are insulated with recycled denim, there’s solar panels on the roof. The roof garden helps keep the place warm in the winter, and prevents toxic water runoff. I’m thinking about drilling a geothermal well, but that takes a lot of permits.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, MJ. But this doesn’t sound like you.”
“An actor friend did something similar in Clinton Hill, told me about it. But I guess, really, I just needed a project. Something that was really mine. After…”
She trailed off.
“After I left you at the altar,” he finished.
“You mean, Spider-Man did.” Her lip curled up in a sad half-smile. “Guess that’s a secret I don’t have to keep anymore.”
“I would have married you,” he said, his voice faltering. “I mean, that thug had me unconscious during our scheduled wedding. But afterward. Any day, any time.”
After the wedding debacle, she’d fled town, refused to speak to him for two weeks. He tried everything to make it right: flowers, gifts, handwritten notes, tearful video apologies. When she’d finally agreed to talk, he assumed she’d finally forgiven him. But her answer was clear and definite: She would never marry Spider-Man.
And Spider-Man, he’d discovered, wasn’t something he could give up.
She waved him off now, a bit of the old smirk creeping onto her face. She crossed to a long bench made out of a single log and plopped down on it, stretching out her long legs. Her shirt rode up a bit more, revealing that incredible stomach. No wonder she was still getting gigs at Vogue and on VH-1.
She looks amazing, he thought. Is she getting younger?
“So, Tiger. You couldn’t call first? Too busy making headlines?”
He perched awkwardly on the edge of the bench. “I don’t really trust the phones right now.”
“Sounds good and paranoid.” Then she leaned forward, suddenly serious. “Hang on. All this publicity…has somebody threatened Aunt May? Is that why you brought her here?”
“No. Not yet.”
“I saw the Doc Ock thing, on the news. Tiger, didn’t you think about this stuff before you revealed your identity on national freaking TV?”
“I did! Really, I did.” He turned away. “And somebody promised to keep her safe. But…”
“But?”
“But I’m not sure I trust that person anymore.”
“We’re not kids anymore, Peter. Knock off the guessing games.”
“Tony. It’s Tony Stark.”
“Tony Stark.” She raised a hand to her lovely lips. “The richest man we know, the guy who’s now basically in charge of all super hero activity in the country. Don’t you think he can handle keeping your aunt safe?”
“It’s not a question of handle. It’s just…” He got up, started to pace.
“Watch those geraniums,” MJ said. “They’re just starting to bloom.”
“There’s a lot of weird stuff going on, MJ. Did you hear about the hero who died yesterday? Bill Foster?”
“Goliath, right?” She frowned. “The news reported it, but they didn’t give too many details.”
“That’s because Tony doesn’t want to tell people how it happened. That Bill got impaled by a lightning bolt, shot off by a defective clone of Thor that Tony’s guys grew as part of their new hero team.”
MJ stared. “I think I just had a little stroke,” she said.
“I keep seeing it,” Peter continued. “Blood spurting out Bill’s back, his huge body tumbling like an oak. And that’s not all. It’s only the beginning. Tony’s also got a prison for metahumans…this weird, antiseptic fortress run by robots. It’s not even on Earth, it’s in some weird dimension called the Negative Zone.”
He paused, gasped for breath. He could feel himself starting to break down, the barriers falling. Something about this place, about seeing MJ again. He’d never been as close to anyone as he’d been to her, and now that she was with him again, he found he couldn’t stop talking.
“There’s supposed to be…Tony wants fifty super-teams, one for every state. It’s all top secret right now, but I’ve seen some of the names he’s trying to recruit. You can’t fill out fifty teams without signing up some pretty unstable people.”
“Peter—”
“And Captain America! There’s no better man in the world, but I stood there and watched Tony just pound the crap out of him, beat him to a bloody pulp. I’m not squeamish, MJ, you know that, I’ve seen things. But this was just wrong. It was…oh dammit…”
He wiped away a tear, tried to smile.
“Stupid pollen. You got too many plants out here, you know that?”
And then she was there, directly in front of him, her lovely dark eyes boring into his. Challenging him, just as she’d done when they were kids. She smelled of skin and earth and strawberry perfume. Her lips were slightly parted.
He moved forward to kiss her, driven by a deep, unconscious need. But she held out a hand, pushed him away.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
Peter looked down, embarrassed. “Tony’s a good man. He’s done so much for me, for a lot of people.”
“But you think he’s gone too far.”
&nbs
p; “I’m just gonna talk to him. He and me, we think alike. He said so.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m not sure of anything. Well, one thing. Just one.”
He pulled her close, hugged her like a sister. Buried his head in her shoulder.
“You’re the only person.” He felt tears rising again. “The only person in the, in the world that I really, truly trust.”
She said nothing. Raised lithe hands to his shoulder blades, held him tight.
“I need you to take her away,” he said. “To keep her safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“From—from nothing, hopefully. But if this doesn’t go the way I hope—if he doesn’t see—”
“Dammit. Dammit, Petey.” MJ broke away, stalked across to a clutch of sunflowers. “You expect me to uproot my whole life and—”
“I know. I know, but it’s—”
“—and leave my house that I just finally got the way I want it, after everything that’s…”
She buried her head in her hands, started to cry.
Peter stood, helpless.
“I can’t let her be hurt,” he whispered. “Not because of…”
MJ turned hard, tear-stained eyes toward him. “Because of Spider-Man.”
He nodded.
“Is everything all right out here?” Aunt May poked her head out the back door, then grimaced. “Oh, I see. More of the old drama. Well, don’t mind little me. Oh, my, Mary Jane. What lovely posies you have.”
AUNT May sputtered and protested. She jabbed her finger at Peter, repeatedly, and for a terrible moment he expected her to explode into a full-on tantrum, the kind she hadn’t allowed herself since Uncle Ben’s death. But in the end she nodded, set her mouth, and allowed Mary Jane to lead her to the car.
In the end, as she’d said, she trusted him.
Peter stood on the sidewalk, watching Mary Jane’s Mini Cooper recede down the street. MJ had barely said a word to him while packing. But he knew that she, too, understood.
He let out a long breath, collapsed back against the young maple tree. Closed his eyes, inhaled the thick nature-smell. He thought of the two women he loved most in the world, crammed together in that tiny car, headed for parts unknown. Don’t tell me where you’re going, he’d begged Mary Jane. It’s better that way.