Once again, I'm sorry. I know I haven't been updating regularly, but let me tell you, working 9 hours a day at an office with almost an hour commute there and back home is really hard on the muse. It makes it difficult to want to write at all, but I dearly want to finish this story and there is some delicious angst ahead, that I need to write and get out of my system.

So….ENJOY!

"Spider-Man, I'm-I'm disappointed," Doctor Connors spluttered, his face pale as a ghost even as a shaking hand scrolled through the results appearing on his holographic computer screen, "but most of all, I'm terrified."

Peter gave a heavy swallow, drawing his legs up into the fetal position on the bed he was currently occupying in the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical wing. "Is it that bad?" he asked in a weak rasp, absently rubbing the thick bandage adorning his hand.

It was dark, past midnight, and Peter had just finished hours' worth of tests administered by Doctor Connors. Aunt May thought he was sleeping over at Harry's to study for a test, and his team was still waiting outside the room, wondering when they'll be allowed inside. Director Fury had already forced himself inside, his stern façade slipping just enough to betray the concern he felt for the Spider. All eyes were on Connors, and the man was reading the results of his examination with wide eyes shimmering with horror.

"Bad doesn't even begin to explain what is happening," the scientist spat, but quickly softened his tone when he noticed the young hero flinch, "Peter," he sighed, "I can honestly say that the disease afflicting you is beyond my capabilities to treat. I don't even know where to begin on slowing down its progress much less fighting it. Which is why I'm disappointed. Why did you keep secret the fact your symptoms were growing worse? Why didn't you give me the necessary time to find a cure for you?"

Peter couldn't only give a vague shrug, his head drooping in guilt and shame at the betrayal in his friend's tone. He didn't know how to explain why he didn't tell anyone. It was too much to put into words. How could he explain that ever since the incident with Morlun, he'd felt like he'd become an obscene burden on everyone around him? How could he put into words the depression that lurked in the shadows of his mind, exacerbating his already crippling insecurity? Or try to describe the childish wish that maybe if he ignored it long enough, it would just go away? Peter knew it was stupid and irresponsible to ignore symptoms that were slowly getting worse, but he was just so tired and had been in nonstop pain for so long, he honestly didn't know when to worry and seek medical help. His whole life was just one giant ball of pain.

Fury wasn't happy with the teen's answer, his own frustration coming through as he stepped into the conversation, "I have a question," the man announced, his one good eye glaring daggers at the two other occupants "What is it that's so bad? Explain it to me, please."

Connors turned to Peter, raising his eyebrows in a silent invitation to begin what would surely become a lengthy debriefing. The young hero pulled himself in even tighter, trying to become as small as possible. He didn't want to have this conversation, didn't want to hear the confirmation to the fears that had been churning in his gut for the past three months. Fury waited, the atmosphere stuffy and tense before the scientist finally relented and allowed the teen some mercy.

"Spider-Man has been displaying symptoms, recently," he began, fingers massaging the bridge of his nose before pinning Fury with a look dripping with concern and fatigue. "He told me only a little about them, enough I'm sure to get me off his back, but not the entirety. Until this point I had considered them merely aftershocks from the severe radiation poisoning he'd received, since he hadn't told me that they were getting worse I had continued to assume as much."

Fury took a moment to send a powerful glare, not unlike one a father would give to an unruly son during a parent-teach conference, to Peter who had buried his face between his knees, "So, what changed?" he asked, "Why are these symptoms such a concern now?"

Connors groaned, drawing a weary hand down his face before once again reading the results in a resigned monotone, "According to the data I received after Spider-Man was brought in unconscious, I can deduce that Spider-Man's DNA is degenerating at an alarming rate."

"Meaning?" Fury felt the need to ask, but the icy fear currently squeezing his heart whispered to him the answer he somehow already knew.

"It means, that the radiation absorbed from his fight with Morlun has effectively started unraveling Spider-Man's DNA," Connors stated trying to convey why he was so concerned, "it means-"

"It means I'm going to die," the soft voice of the Spider brought both men back to Peter, the young hero looking very much like the scared fifteen-year-old he truly was. In a voice too small and a tone too meek, the spider continued, "That's what it means, right?" he queried, barely stifling a sob.

Connors' jaw hung open as the teen verbalized the one thing he'd been desperately trying to avoid saying, but now the cat was out of the bag, "Yes," Connors confirmed, his voice merely a strangled croak, "if it continues at this rate, your prognosis is…terminal."

Peter drew in a shuddering breath, not looking up from where his nose was firmly planted between his knees, "How long?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" the two men asked, mostly because they hadn't heard the question, partly because they both were still in denial about the results in the first place.

"I said," Peter repeated, enunciating every word with a bitter edge "how long?"

Fury looked to Connors, his dark eye resigned, shoulders set in a firm line as he prepared himself for yet one more name to be added to the list of souls he was responsible for sending to their deaths. "You heard the man," the spy stated quietly, "Peter would like to know how long he…has left."

The scientist shook his head, tears finally streaming down his cheeks as he gave his own subdued reply, "Weeks, months at the very best."

….

Peter swung through the night, his costume a technicolor of the many lights of Downtown Manhattan. He used to love doing this. Letting the carpet of diamonds flow beneath him as he flew between skyscrapers with a grace that would make even Cirque Du Soliel performers jealous. Right now though, Peter hated them. He wanted to turn off every light, extinguish every billboard and building sign, find somewhere quiet and grieve. However, that was difficult to do in the city that never sleeps. Unoccupied rooftops were rarer than people thought and finding a secluded spot where he wouldn't be hounded by unwanted noise was proving even more difficult.

Peter sniffed back the tears burning behind his eyeballs. He would not have a meltdown! At least, not yet. Not until he was suitably alone. Then he could vent all the emotion he'd been holding inside since he ran out of the medical wing; away from Connors' grim prognosis, and literally through his team before leaping off the Tri-Carrier in a desperate need to just get away. He knew he hurt his team by ignoring them, but he also knew that if he stayed he would have crumbled then and there, and in front of all of the heroes of S.H.I.E.L.D. which included the Avengers was not a place he wanted to have the good old cry that he yearned for.

Finally, a darkened rooftop beckoned the wall crawler, the building sign across the street buzzing in static and not making much noise or sense proved the only witness. Spidey touched down, not so much gracefully as gratefully, but he couldn't have cared less at the moment. Spidey gripped his head, fingers digging into his mask, even as a wail began to build in his throat. No! No, he couldn't melt down. He had to stay strong. Lots of people received a death sentence from their doctor, and they do something with the days they have left. They stay strong until the end, and they weren't even gifted super-heroes! If a civilian could do it, certainly he could, right?

No…Peter felt his head shake in numb defeat. Those who could face their deaths with courage were far and above more heroic than he was right now. At least that's what he thought. His practical mind told him every human, no matter how brave would feel this way after being told they had weeks to live; but Spidey was too caught up in his grief to give that thought credence. He was dying, and there wasn't a single person outside of Aunt May who would truly care or notice his absence.

Suddenly, the fritzing building screen burst to life, showing the ugly mug of J. Jonah Jameson, as he spewed his daily dose of vile rhetoric, "Spider-Man is a menace!" the growling voice echoed in the dark, "he may pretend to be some kind of hero, but I assure you my fellow New Yorker's he's nothing of the kind! We'd be better off with him gone!"

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you," Peter rasped, stumbling to his feet and ripping off his mask so to send bared teeth to the screen, "you'd like me dead, WOULDN'T YOU?!"

Sobs that had been smothered finally bubbled up, as multiple salty streams of tears dripped down the young hero's face, "You'd love to have me up and die!" Peter continued, his angry scream hoarse with internal agony, "Well, guess what?! Your wish came true! In a few weeks you'll be asking where I am, and that will be the end of it! Because I'll be dead! By trying to save this city from an interdimensional vampire lunatic, I'm going to die! Do you hear me, Jameson?! I'm going TO DIE!"

All strength left Peter's legs, leaving him to fall to his knees as his shoulders shook with barely restrained sobs. "I'm going to die," he repeated, his voice much quitter as the realization of Connors' words finally took their toll, "I'm going to die."

"Web head?"

Peter slowly turned, his body numb, body shaking to face the shocked expressions of his team. Did they just see that? Did they hear? Of course, they heard, probably all of Brooklyn heard. He should be explaining himself right now. Alleviating their fears and being the strong leader; but Peter just didn't have it in him. His mouth opened and shut, but nothing came out. All he could manage were the tears that were still bursting from his eyes in thick waves.

Turning from his team, Spider-Man fell backwards from his knees to sit on the rooftop, hugging himself in a desperate wish to be away, but at the same time to be with someone. To have someone be strong for him, for once, instead of the other way around. With the soft crunch of gravel under their feet, Spidey listened to his team approach, and braced himself for the questions that would surely come. But they didn't.

A soft pair of white clad arms slipped around Peter's shoulders and pulled his face into the crook of a feminine neck. Clawed fingers ran through the soft brown locks of his hair, and one by one, his team quietly curled up around their spider. Luke braced Peter's back, allowing the lithe frame to lean its entire weight on the comforting mass of muscle. Danny and Sam curled up on Peter's side, effectively cocooning him between the four of them.

Peter felt his breath begin to speed up, even as the tears began again with renewed vigor. His sinuses burned, and his vision blurred. He was so tired. So tired of always being strong. So tired of always being the responsible one everyone could count on. So tired of bearing the brunt of everything. Peter began to tremble, the quaking going from his broad shoulders down his back and to his knees. He didn't have the strength anymore. He was tired of fighting. He needed to give in.

Turning his face into Ava's neck, Peter allowed the barest hint of a sob slip past his lips. Ava responded by hugging him closer, and the young hero felt his walls slowly begin to crumble. What once were streams, was now a torrent. Salty tears splashing his checks and dribbling down his chest. What was once a stifled cry, swiftly grew into convulsive sobs as month's worth of pain and fear was laid bare for all to see. And for once, the Spider was allowed to grieve his circumstance.

"Connors said I'm going to die," Peter wept into between gasps for air, "he said," the youth swallowed, his voice quickly becoming waterlogged, "he said I only have weeks."

Ava's grip around Spider-Man tightened, "Yeah," she rasped, her own frame shaking softly "I know. He told us after you left."

Relief that they knew, that he wouldn't have to explain, that they were even there made the Spider melt further into their warm embrace. Every wall he had erected around his heart dissolving as he let his team get a rare glimpse of Peter Parker. "I-I don't want to die!" he wailed clutching Ava as the sobs grew into a bawl "I don't want to die!"

"You're not going to!" Ava's voice came out almost a feline growl, "We know some of the smartest people in the world, and even if it means I have to get on my knees and beg every single one of them for help, we are going to find a cure!"

"But what if they can't help?" Peter's asked miserably, "What if it's too late?"

"We can't think like that," Ava reprimanded gently.

"She's right," Sam nodded, the young Nova casting scared but determined eyes on his leader, "we have plenty of contacts with people who know about science and the effects of radiation. This fight isn't over."

"The journey of a thousand miles, begins with one step," Danny intoned, "let us help you Spider. We will do all in our power to find an answer."

"Yeah," Luke threw in, "I can ask my parents too. I know they would definitely do all they can to help you."

A fresh ball of emotion lodged in the Spider's throat, but this time not from grief but from gratitude. His team, this wonderfully wacky group of kids, were going to help him through this. As fresh tears spilled over the already wet cheeks, Peter could only whisper;

"Thank you,"

SO….what did you think? Did you like it? Was it angst enough for you? Or was it too rushed?

Please let me know in your REVIEWS!