AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey! This is my first Spider-Man fanfiction. This is set in the Amazing Spider-Man movie universe (Andrew Garfield as Peter, yumm). I will be continuing this and I do have a plot in mind, although now I need to rework a few things because this chapter came out differently than I had expected. Also, sorry that Peter is so sulky/depressed. He won't stay like this in throughout the story, just at the beginning while he figures things out. He'll be back, at least in part, to his sarcastic/dorky attitude soon.

I also wrote this disregarding the final scene in the movie where Peter's swinging through the city as Spidey. Sorry if that upsets anyone. And while this is Gwen/Peter, my plan is not to have it consumed in romance. In my brief expedition through the various Spider-Man fics out there, I found that practically 90% of them were romance. I want something different.

I regrettably have never read the comics, so my deepest apologies if this fic and those don't match up. I'm trying to keep it as canon as I can.

Please read and review, if you'd like! Reviews mean faster updates because they inspire me. : ) Constructive feedback is welcomed as well, especially involving grammar mistakes.

Warnings: Rated T for violence, mild swearing, and mild romance. For now, just to be safe.

Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man, the movies, or the comics. I only own the writing, story, and some OCs later on.

-Indigo

I didn't know what to do now. I felt hurt, empty, and betrayed. Maybe because I had once believed Dr. Connors to be my friend. Maybe it was the promise I'd made to Gwen's father the night he'd died. Maybe it was because things had finally settled and I'd lost my purpose. Or just maybe it was some dizzying mix of all three.

If I was being completely honest, I definitely blamed myself for what happened to Dr. Connors and for Captain Stacy's death. Rightly so, too. It was my fault. If I hadn't given Dr. Connors the equation he needed, none of this would have come to pass. Captain Stacy would still be alive. I'd still have Gwen.

Sinking to the floor of my room, I pulled my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, looking dejected. I put my chin on my knees. I swallowed twice, just to make sure I wasn't in danger of crying. Ever since that fateful night in New York City that I'd "saved the day," I hadn't put on my suit once. Not once. I hadn't wanted to, even though I knew people out there needed me. Newspapers were running wild, all asking where I'd gone. The Daily Bugle commonly wrote up articles saying crap about me, that I'd been a fraud all along and that I was really on the dark side. Of course, they wrote it more convincingly than that.

And with every day that passed without sight of Spider-Man, the city grew more and more inclined to believe it. It killed me a little inside to know that their trust in me could be swayed so easily. I'd been their hero, but that didn't matter now. Some hero I was, though. I could barely keep myself from breaking down completely and giving up these days. Aunt May left me to myself, mainly, sensing that I needed time to wind down. I think she suspected that I was Spider-Man, even if she never directly said so aloud. Too many correlations existed between me and him: me always coming home beaten up right after Spider-Man had helped the city in some way, me never being home when Spider-Man was sighted, and me spending so much time researching stuff in my room. She'd probably even connected Spider-Man's absence to me being home so much.

She suspected, of course. She had to. I just think she was waiting for definite verification before she confronted me. I would never tell her, I couldn't. I couldn't face her knowing that I'd kept this a secret from her. It would break her, I was sure, knowing that I hadn't told her. My reasons wouldn't make any sense to her.

I glanced over at my calendar. It had been exactly two months since that night when I'd finally beaten Dr. Connors. I felt bile rise in my throat and swallowed quickly. My grades had dropped, that was something Aunt May had noticed. I'd gone from a straight A's student to one that would be lucky if he got a C in a class. It was always hard being at school, because she would always be there. We needed to talk, but I didn't know if I was ready. I loved Gwen, she was an amazing girl. And it killed me knowing I'd hurt her. So far, I'd kept my promise to Gwen's dad. I didn't know if it was because I didn't want to break it or if I just wasn't ready to resume my relationship with Gwen.

I missed her so much... her smile, her laugh, her kisses. I would do anything to protect her, didn't Captain Stacy know that? I respected that man. How could I break my word to a man that was now dead because he tried to protect me? I ran a hand up my face and through my hair, grunting tiredly and letting my head fall back into the wall behind me with a thud. I looked up at the ceiling, noticing again all the already memorized imperfections in it. The bit of water damage in the far corner, the dark patch right in the center, an area closer by that paint was chipping off of, and a slight ripple in the sea of smooth off-white paint just above me. Something far off in the back of my head reminded me, again, that I shouldn't be able to list all of those things off without having to think about it. I'd obviously spent a lot of time in the past two months staring absentmindedly at that ceiling.

Getting up, which was harder than it should have for a boy of seventeen, I headed over to my closet and pushed open the doors. I shoved aside some junk - someone was going to have to remind me to eventually throw out that moldy pizza slice - and dragged out a plain cardboard box from way in the back. I sat crossed-legged on the ground, unmoving, as I stared at it for a good five minutes. Finally, I filled my lungs with a deep, steadying breath and lifted the lid from the box. Inside, heavily shadowed, was a red and blue suit. My suit.

Gingerly, I lifted the mask and held it at arm's length before me. I swallowed once, my arms shaking but from what I didn't know. I knew - I knew -- I had to put back on this suit sooner or later. The people needed me. I couldn't let them believe I had abandoned them. But the memories that came along with it were near unbearable. I couldn't look at the colorful fabric without remembering Uncle Ben, without thinking of what I'd done to Dr. Connors, of Captain Stacy's death... Sometimes, if I looked really hard, I could almost still see Uncle Ben's blood on my hands. I'd tried to stop the bleeding. It hadn't made a difference.

"Peter! Dinner; come down out of your room," Aunt May called from the kitchen.

With a sound of disgust, I shoved the mask back in the box and violently kicked it back to the depths of my closet. I couldn't deal with this. Not now. I humorlessly remembered the movies where everything went back to normal after the bad dude was done away with. How far that was from the truth. Dr. Connors hadn't even really been bad, he just didn't know what he was doing. I bit my lip and headed for my door.

"Coming, Aunt May!"

I bounded down the stairs and stepped into the dining room, slouched over. The smell of roast chicken greeted me, but I wasn't that hungry. Had I mentioned that I'd lost twenty pounds since that night two months ago? I knew Aunt May was worried. I slid onto the chair at the table, immediately resting my elbows on the table.

Aunt May walked in from the kitchen, carrying two glasses of water, and didn't say anything. Normally she would have demanded I mind my manners and get my elbows off the table. But I think she was willing to let me do whatever I wanted now just so long as I stopped sulking.

"Hi," I said with a half-hearted grin.

Aunt May pushed a strand of hair out of her face and looked at me with a concerned expression. "Peter, I-"

"I don't want to talk, if that's what you're going to ask," I said, cutting her off. My voice sounded more defeated than it did demanding.

"No, of course not. How was school?"

I shrugged and didn't answer. She sighed, then served me some chicken. We had eaten in silence for a few minutes when my phone buzzed. It had been so long since anyone texted or called me, I almost jumped. I glanced down at the screen. I'd gotten a text.

"Who's that?" Aunt May asked, probably just to break the silence.

I didn't answer at first. I just stared at the screen. I'm sure she'd long since given up hope of receiving a reply when I finally said softly, "It's Gwen."