Disclaimer: The Amazing Spiderman and The Amazing Spiderman 2 belong to Marvel Studios. I do not own it, and I do not mean to break any copyright laws.

Rating: K+

Author's Note: This is a one-shot of Peter Parker post-Amazing Spiderman 2. It's sad, I'll warn you, but the end is a little lighter. All the quotes are from the movies and the poem was written by myself (though at the time I didn't realise I would tie it in with anything fandom-wise). This is under comics because it appears fanfiction doesn't have a movie section for this particular movie. Please enjoy, and maybe leave a nice comment? :)


The grass crunched under his feet. It was once green, but the snow seemed to have seeped the colour out of it until it had turned a grey shade. The ground was hard under his trainers, and he kept pushing himself on. The sky was grey, like everything else, and the smell of rotting flowers seemed to punch him with every step.

The air was chilly, his breath curling up from his mouth or nostrils and floating up toward heaven. His face was numb, and his fingers tingled around the paper that was curled in them, emphasizing that he was the only warm body around.

He was the only living thing for a kilometer.

The graves loomed in rows in front of him, dark grey and foreboding. He felt out of place, as if the ghosts that resided here themselves were trying to push him away. The sizes and depictions varied, as did the names. Dates ranging back some two hundred years adorned the more weathered stones, and dead flowers drooped weakly at several of the graves.

All of them were older, not a single mound of fresh dirt to show any recent death. The lone man picked his way through the yard, the sheer amount of death unaffecting him. This was his second home, a place he often spent hours wandering. After the initial burial he'd not had the courage to visit the grave again, but he felt like he owed it to her now.

He found the familiar stone. Engraved upon it was George Stacy. This was as far as he'd been able to get in the past. Just a few feet to the right was her stone. Taking a deep breath, Peter Parker forged on.

Gwen Stacy. How was it possible that a name could hold so power? She had been the center of his life for so long. He'd watched her from afar, then she'd finally seen him. After that she was the one who grounded him during his turbulous life. She was brave, and it was her bravery that had both saved his life and killed her at the same time.

He could still see it in his mind. Every detail still ravaged him, down to her green/blue coat, purple skirt, and black boots. He remembered her face as she fell, the terror and fear in her expression. She had known he couldn't save her. Yet he had still tried, and maybe that made things worse. He could still feel the way the way her skin felt-cold and dead; he could still see her body hanging limply, and he could still remember the sorrow and grief in his heart.

They had just worked things out when it had all fell apart. Her father had been right; Peter would end up hurting her if they were together. For some reason, though, he had ignored the man's advice and let his feelings and his heart guide him. And how wrong he'd been.

"And no offense, but you're wrong. You're wrong about us being on different paths. We're not on different paths. You're my path. And you're always gonna be my path. And I know there's a millions reasons why we shouldn't be together, I know that. But I'm tired of them, I'm tired of every single one of them. You know I gotta make a choice. Gwen, I choose you."

He'd been so naive back then. They had been on different paths. She was going to the United Kingdom for college, and he was solving petty crime in New York. He loved Gwen, and he had always loved her, but he should have let her go.

"I want you to promise me something. Leave Gwen out of it."

He made a promise, and because he broke that promise he was now paying the price. He was right-there were a million reasons they shouldn't be together, and one of them was because she was going to be used against him. If he had only realised that then maybe she would still be alive. Far away from him and long gone, but alive.

He could have chosen her without letting her die.

Peter passed her dad's gravestone. The promise he had made him weighed heavily in his mind.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"But those are the best kind."

Why? Why had he gone back on it? Her dad had been right the entire time. Peter had been foolish and rebellious, his heart telling him want he wanted and not what Gwen needed. He had hurt her by making that promise to her dad, but he'd also been protecting her. If only he had had the discipline to keep that promise...

"I think that maybe it's time to let this go. And that's not because I don't love you, it's actually because I do."

Peter had been right for once when he said that. It had been time to let her go then, and even though it had only lasted a little while, he had to let her go now. Now he couldn't watch her every day between criminals and classes. She was gone for good, and he had to accept that and let her go. He loved her, and if you love her you let her go.

"You're Spiderman, and I love that. But I love Peter Parker more."

Peter pulled out the folded piece of paper as he stared at her grave. "You always...you always loved the man behind the mask. You loved Peter Parker, not his other identity. You always thought I was a hero even before I actually saved people. I didn't deserve you, Gwen. I didn't deserve you at all. I still don't deserve you. You believed in me even when I didn't. Now you're gone, and it's all I can do to keep going on. Gosh, I'm so not a sentimental person. Now I'm crying over your grave. See what you did to me? You're awful."

He paused, wiping at his eyes. "I wish you could come back. But you can't. I made a lot of good decisions, Gwen. You were all of them. I also made a lot of mistakes, and you were all of those, too. I don't regret meeting you, and I don't regret loving you. My only regret is that you're not here with me right now. I have to move past that, now, and I think you would do the same if our situations were reversed. So I wrote a poem for you. I know, that sounds really nerdy and not like me at all. But I'm not the same person I was a year ago. I never will be that person again. I lost so much. You probably wouldn't even recognize me now. All I do is mope and run errands for Aunt May, and occasionally solve a crime."

Peter sighed. "I'm just stalling now. So I'm going to read this, then I'm going to leave it here for you. The wind will probably blow it away, or the graveyard dude will think it's trash-which it is, I'm not good at English-and throw it away, but it doesn't matter. You probably can't hear me now, anyway. I just need to do this to make peace with myself and with you. So bear with me, please."

He began to read it.

"I have walked there sometimes,
where the sun touches the moon;

I have journeyed there sometimes,
where the light fades into the shadows;

I have been there sometimes,
where the sky meets the ground;

I have seen there sometimes,
where the ocean crashes into the beach;

I have traveled there sometimes,
where the desert finds the forest fringe;

I have run there sometimes,
where right and wrong walk the same path;

I have sat there sometimes,
where the line divides the life I could've had;

I have watched there sometimes,
where the world crumbles and falls apart around me;

I have felt there sometimes,
the empty space in my chest where there once was a heart;

I have walked there sometimes,
where I've never felt the courage to see your grave."

Peter wiped at his eyes. "Corny, huh? Bet you could've written something for me a hundred times better. But I guess it's the thought that counts."

"You must promise me that you will hold on to hope."

"I just wanted to come and let you know that I haven't lost hope. I'm in pain, but I'm recovering. Things will look up soon, but I had to do this first. You know I love you Gwen, and one day I'll see you again. For now, keep this as a promise."

He knelt down and put the unfolded peice of paper in front of her gravestone. As he stood, the rays of the dying light painted the sky with brilliant shades of pink, orange, yellow, purple, and blue. The graveyard seemed alive to him this time, the grass a bright green and the granite stones with pink flecks. Flowers peeked up at random places, bright and cheery despite being in the resting place of the dead. He turned and walked away, everything he'd held on to and everything that had hurt him staying behind at her grave.

Things were looking up for the hero now. He'd been in some tough places and tough times, but as the sun was setting and giving way to the darkness, so he had entered dark times, but as surely as the sun would rise again in the day so would Peter Parker. Darkness and bitterness always comes before paradise, and now Peter was headed for brighter times.

"Thanks, Gwen."

"A cold world melts with love."