M.J. was exhausted. She had just finished another 12 hour shift at the hospital, which was all overtime. The hospital had been plagued by a staff shortage nearly the entirety of her short career in medicine thus far, but she was doing her best. After all, she didn't become a nurse for glory or recognition, but because it was her way of trying to make the world a better place.
She was striding down the hall and almost to the elevator when she stopped upon taking a glance in a nearby room. Her face fell a bit at the scene that sadly had become familiar to many of the staff on the 3rd floor: Victoria, a single mother, was sitting with her young son, Timmy, who was dying of a rare form of cancer. The boy appeared to be fast asleep, and the poor woman was just sitting there, facing the boy's direction. M.J. didn't have to imagine what her face must've looked like; they had done everything they could for little Timmy, utilizing various treatments, but his condition had only continued to deteriorate. Eventually, they made the determination that the most they could do from here on was make the boy as comfortable as possible...for what little time he had left.
Despite her tired state, M.J. still found herself walking into the room to check on them. She was still wearing her nursing uniform, so at least Victoria wouldn't recognize her as being on her way out.
"Ma'am," M.J. said as she came up to the side of the woman, "can I get you anything?"
"No thanks," the woman answered, forcing her eyes away from her son towards the visitor to the room. M.J. wasn't surprised by the shortness of her answer; she could only imagine how she would feel if her and Peter had a kid facing such circumstances.
"Alright," M.J. said, before turning her eyes to the boy. Despite all the pain and suffering the boy had gone through over the last several months, in that moment he just seemed so...peaceful.
"How's he doing today?" she added.
"He's been asleep most of the day," Victoria answered, turning back to her son. "He did draw this earlier though." The woman then showed M.J. a paper that contained a drawing of a familiar red and black NYC superhero. M.J. took the picture, examining it. Timmy was only nine years old, but his artistic skills were excellent. Everything was very well detailed, from the lines on the suit to the eyes to the city in the background.
"I'm guessing he's a huge Spider-Man fan?" M.J. asked, handing the drawing back to the boy's mother.
"Oh yes," the woman said, a smile forming on her face. "He always says he's Spidey's #1 fan."
M.J. smiled; she might have to disagree with that, being Spider-Man's wife and all that, but she figured she'd keep that to herself.
She then noticed the woman's face getting a bit more solemn, and a tear eventually started streaking down her cheek.
"He's asked me a few times since...he's asked me if I think he'll get to meet Spider-Man before he has to leave," the woman said. "I just tell him that I don't know. I don't want to get his hopes up for something that won't happen, you know?"
M.J.'s eyes shifted downward for a moment, her tired brain considering an idea.
"Well, who knows?" M.J. replied, looking back up to the woman. "Maybe he'll get his wish yet." She then reminded Victoria that if there was anything she needed to the staff know before taking her leave from the room. Once she was outside of the building and in her car, she took out her cell phone, immediately dialing Peter's contact.
"Seriously Max, I think you need to switch to decaf," Peter shouted as he dodged yet another bolt of electricity, "because you have WAY too much energy today!" Electro didn't respond, seemingly content to let his lightning blasts do the talking for him. Peter had been at this with his electricity powered villain for a few minutes now, and while he'd managed to enjoy getting zapped like a bug on a light, he hadn't exactly made much headway towards actually stopping the man either. The villain hadn't let up since the battle had begun. The good news was that everyone was out of the building now, so he just had himself to worry about, which was the most important part.
Besides, that task was enough by itself.
Peter's mask suddenly alerted him to a call from M.J. While he knew his wife would understand if he explained later what he had going on, he tried his best not to ignore his wife of all people, especially since there was no telling what she could be calling about. Tapping the side of his mask as he continued running along the wall, he answered.
"Hey M.J."
"Hey Peter, are you busy right now?" she asked.
Peter leapt forward as a piece of the wall behind him exploded, somersaulting forward and firing a web, continuing his momentum.
"Uh, a little," he answered. "Is it important?"
"Not for me necessarily," M.J. replied. "I just wanted to ask a favor."
"Okay, hold on," Peter said, finally seeing a potential opening as his nemesis was finally slowing down. Covering his left hand completely in webbing, he then swung towards his opponent, dodging yet another blast before delivering a powerful blow towards Electro's face that sent the villain flying to the other side of the building. The former electrical engineer then collapsed on the ground, unconscious.
"Sorry about that," Peter said apologetically, "had to deal with my own personal bug zapper. You were saying?"
"You remember Timmy, the boy I mentioned to you at the hospital recently?" M.J. asked.
"Oh yeah," Peter said as he completed his webbed wrapping of Electro. "What's the latest on that one?"
"Unfortunately still the same," M.J. said, her voice quiet and sober. "However, I learned something interesting about him today."
"And just what might that be?" Peter asked, firing a web and swinging away from the site of the battle.
"He's a Spider-Man fan," M.J. responded. "Like, self-proclaimed number 1 Spider-Man fan."
It didn't take but barely a second for Peter's mind to connect the dots as to where this conversation was going.
"How much time does he have left?"
"It could be any day now," M.J. answered him.
"Alright; what floor did you say he was on again?" Peter asked.
"Third," M.J. responded. "If you come from the west, his room is right in the middle."
"Copy that," Peter responded, arcing his web to change his course. The fact was that he was exhausted from his 60 hours he'd put in this week at the lab, plus his fight with Electro, but that didn't matter right now.
Someone needed him.
Despite the fact that the hospital was halfway across Manhattan from his fight with Electro; it didn't take Peter long to get to the hospital. There were perks to swinging ABOVE the insanity that was the downtown traffic, after all, and before he knew it he'd landed on a building adjacent to M.J.'s workplace. After making sure he knew exactly which window was his destination, he leapt from his perch spot, firing a web and swinging forward, landing gracefully on the wall just to the left of the window. M.J. had told him that when she'd left, the boy had been asleep, so he moved quietly, peeking into the room quickly. Thankfully, the boy was awake, talking to his mother.
Peter's heart fell however when he saw all the machines and IVs that were hooked up to the boy. M.J. had shared plenty of times about such scenes, but this was Peter's first time actually seeing someone, other than himself, in such a terrible position. All the things they had to monitor just to keep the boy alive and comfortable...
This was not how people were supposed to live.
Backing away from the window, Peter took a moment to clear his head to the best it would allow for. The last thing they boy needed was for the superhero he looked up to to sound depressed. Willing as much positivity back into himself as he could, Peter then turned back to the window, giving a few gentle knocks against the glass.
Both the boy and his mother turned to face him. The boy seemed almost instantly elated, while the mother looked on in shock. Since no one seemed to be coming to let him in, Peter pressed his fingers against the glass. Thankfully, it was unlocked, and the window slid right open, allowing him to let himself in.
"Excuse me," Peter said, "I'm looking for a young man named Timmy. You two wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"
"I'm Timmy!" the boy shouted with more energy than Peter had anticipated.
"Well, it's very nice to meet you Timmy!" Peter said, walking over and gently clasping the boy's hand in his own, shaking it gently. "I'm Spider-Man."
"I know that," the boy retorted. Peter's heart was warmed by the smile on the boy's face as he spoke. He then turned to the boy's mother.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry for barging in like this," he said. "I hope it's okay?"
The woman (Victoria, if Peter remembered correctly) continued to stare at him for a moment, mouth open, before she finally collected herself.
"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the woman said, apologizing profusely. "It's just that we weren't expecting any visitors."
"I get that a lot," Peter replied. "No worries."
"Spider-Man!" Timmy shouted, bringing Peter's attention back to him, "do you want to see the picture I drew of you?"
"Why sure!" Peter answered. The boy then looked towards his mother, and by the time Peter did as well, she was holding out a piece of paper. Peter took it and examined what was actually quite a good hand drawn image of him swinging through the city.
"Wow, you're pretty good!" Peter said.
"Thanks," the boy replied, his voice a little quieter now. "You can have it if you want."
Peter looked at the boy, his mask hiding the stunned look on his face. It wasn't much, but still, the fact that this boy, who was dying of a terrible disease, was offering HIM something...
Peter fought against getting choked up as he responded.
"Thank you," he said. "I'll have to hang it up somewhere, so that lots of people can see your fine work."
"Oh, it's not that good," Timmy replied.
Peter held out the image, angling it a few different ways as he pretended to examine it in more depth.
"Actually you're right," Peter said. "It's not just good, it's great!"
The boy chuckled a little, sending a warm feeling through Peter's heart.
"Timmy," the boy's mother spoke up, "remember what you said you've always wanted to ask Spider-Man?"
"Oh yeah!" the boy said before turning back to Peter. "How do you shoot your webs? Does it actually come from your body?"
Peter chuckled. "Nope," he said, setting the picture on the table next to the bed. He removed his glove from his right hand, revealing his web shooter underneath.
"You see, I actually make it myself, and store it in these pressurized containers on my wrists," Peter continued, pointing to the device on his arm. "Inside here, it's still a liquid, but as soon as it makes contact with the air outside..."
Peter then fired a web onto the ceiling just above the bed, shooting out just enough so the boy could reach up and touch it.
"Now don't squeeze it too hard," Peter said. "It's a little sticky."
The boy looked mesmerized as he touched and examined the web line.
"Coooool," Timmy said. "So, how come I can't find any of these anywhere?"
"Well, like a real spider's webbing, it's biodegradable," Peter explained. "Basically, after about an hour or so, it dissolves, and it's like it was never there in the first place."
What Peter had expected to be a short visit turned into almost an hour long Q&A as little Timmy lobbed question after question Peter's way. Whether it was about if he got cold swinging in the winter or how he defeated the Green Goblin on the Brooklyn Bridge, the boy clearly wanted to know everything he could about his nine years as Spider-Man. Despite his own exhaustion from putting in 60 hours in the lab this week, on top of his usual patrolling duties, Peter was more than happy to indulge the boy. He recalled many of his adventures with great enthusiasm, which little Timmy clearly enjoyed. Finally, the boy had one last question that was deeper than all the others.
"So, why did you decide to be Spider-Man?"
Peter looked up towards the ceiling, thinking through how to answer the age old question.
"I...there was a man I knew, a long time ago, that told me something I'll never forget."
"What was it?" Timmy asked with great anticipation.
"He told me that, with great power, comes great responsibility," Peter answered. "I haven't always been perfect at it, but I've tried my best to live by those words; to use my powers to help other people."
Peter then knelt down beside the boy.
"You see Timmy, I wasn't given these powers so I could use them just for what I wanted," he continued, "but so I could fulfill the responsibility we all have as people to help each other, and to make the lives of those around us just a little bit easier."
"Wow," the boy gasped. "Is that hard?"
"It's really hard," Peter replied, nodding, "but you know what? It's worth it."
"It is?" Timmy asked.
"Absolutely," Peter affirmed.
The boy smiled for a moment before letting out a yawn.
"Okay Timmy, don't forget that the doctors and nurses said you need your rest," his mother said.
"Oh, okay," the boy said before turning to Peter. "Thank you for visiting me Mr. Spider-Man."
"It was my pleasure Timmy," Peter said, taking the boy's hand in his. "You're a very special boy, and I'm very glad to have met you."
"Don't forget the picture," Timmy reminded him.
"Oh right, thanks!" Peter said, snatching the drawing up. He bid the boy and his mother one last farewell before letting himself out the window.
Three days later, M.J. called and told him that Timmy was gone. Peter found a quiet perch high above the city, sat down and removed his mask. Then he wept; he didn't know for how long, but he cried heartfelt tears. He had heard M.J. talk about him just a few times, and had only met him in person once, but he felt like he'd just lost something precious.
It was just wrong was it was, wrong that such a sweet kid, still so full of life, should be taken from this world. Who knows what he could've grown up to accomplish if he just had more time; the lives he could've touched around him if he had gone on to live a full life? He honestly didn't know how M.J. did it; sure, there were times where he lost people, but his wife had to endure this on a much more frequent basis than he did. In his line of work, there wasn't much he couldn't fix with his powers nd quick thinking, but in the field of medicine...
In that moment, in addition to his grief, Peter also gained a whole new respect and admiration for one Michelle Jones-Parker.
After a while, Peter finally swung back for his and M.J.'s apartment, making it there in short order and letting himself in through the bedroom window. He showered and changed before heading into the kitchen, where he found M.J.
"Hey," she said, her voice gentle and solemn. She then walked up to him and wrapped him in a hug. "You okay?"
"I will be," Peter responded after a brief hesitation. "It's just...how's his mom?"
"As good as can be expected I guess," M.J. replied as they separated. "She did say something that I thought you should know though."
"What's that?" Peter asked.
"That from the time after you visited until he passed, he was the happiest she had seen him in a very long time."
Peter choked up a bit at M.J.'s words. His eyes found the picture Timmy had drawn, which was hung up on their refrigerator. He smiled as he looked at the image the boy had created with his own hands. It was true that the boy had been taken out of this world too early, but knowing he had at least managed to bring the kid some joy in his final days, that he had somehow been lucky enough to provide a moment worth everything to the little family...
He would carry that memory with him too, always.
So, this thing kind of took over itself back when I wrote it and got even heavier than I had planned initially. Hope you all enjoyed it, despite its grim nature.
Know that I am continuing to pray for each and every one of you. Please, stay as safe and healthy as you can!
Also, shout out to all the doctors, nurses and other medical people out there right now! May the Lord give you the strength you need to persevere right now.
"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more mourning or death or crying or pain, for the old order of things have passed away." Revelation 21:4