Okay, so this is my attempt at a novelization-like thing of the movies, only from MJ's point of view. She seems to have a lot more going on in her head than is directly revealed. So a lot of the dialogue and action is directly from the movies, which aren't mine...so don't get mad at me when they don't make sense! I'm playing off ideas from the movie, and probably some from Peter David's novelizations thereof, although these are likely unintentional, as I have not read them in quite some time, being unable to find my copies of them...I have tried to make the structures parallel, though-you'll get what I mean once you read the first bit of the prologue, and compare it to the first few lines of the movie.

Anyway, this is my first fanfic, so please bear with me as I figure out the ropes. Reviews are incredibly useful things-if you don't like something, tell me!

I don't own Spider-Man, any of the characters or situations you recognize from the movies and/or comics and/or novels, and I may subconsciously be using bits of ideas from other fanfic authors-not on purpose, so please don't get mad, it is a compliment.


Who am I? Are you sure you want to know? My story is not one of fairy tale castles and charming princes; no happily-ever-afters, or even happily-for-a-whiles. But it's a story worth telling.

And like any story worth telling, this one is all about love.

I'm in love with Spider-Man.

And before you laugh, or tell me it's just a silly schoolgirl crush, that every woman in New York must feel the same way, let me assure you…

Never mind, you probably wouldn't believe me anyway.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Mary Jane Watson, and I love Spider-Man.

No, really.


It all started when I moved to New York with my family. I was six years old, and we had just bought this adorable house in an adorable neighbourhood, next door to a sweet elderly couple, May and Ben Parker, and their adorable nephew Peter. He was the cutest thing I had ever seen, always very sweet and friendly—a bit shy, though. Brilliant as they come. He always had the top marks at school, and the fewest friends. I ran in different circles—even in first grade, I was one of the most popular girls in school. I never spent any time with Peter in school; I only ever saw him at home, when he would sit outside, on his back porch, overhearing my family's shouting matches, always there when I ran outside to get away from the noise. He was a great listener as a kid…well, he hardly said a word to me, so what choice did he have?

My high school boyfriend and his gang tortured the poor guy. They just wouldn't leave Pete alone, and I found myself almost daily intervening on his behalf (although I never figured out why I felt the need to do so until much later). Sometimes it got so bad that I thought it must have been him that triggered the phrase 'for Pete's sake.'

Although my own life was far from ideal. At school, sure, I had everything a girl could want: friends, admirers, and suitors galore. But at home—well, that was different. My father did enjoy drinking, and when he overdid it—which was often—he would start putting my mom and me down, telling us how worthless and lazy we were. I still half-believe him, when I hear his voice in my memory, condemning my futility. Peter was always there, though, silent but comforting all the same, whenever I needed to lay it all down on someone.

I'm probably boring you; I'd better get on with this story. Let me warn you, though…it doesn't have a happy ending. Actually, it doesn't have an ending at all, because I'm still living it. I can't tell it to you, because it hasn't happened yet.

But what's happened so far is worth hearing about. Let me begin at the beginning, where everything really started to happen.