Part Two

The next two weeks passed like a dream for Peter. He went through days of recuperation. Despite all of his power and abilities he had been hurt beyond his wildest dreams that fateful night. He remembered faces and conversations but not the time lost.

All that he could think about was the Goblin's threat. He prayed that it had been an empty threat, but deep down Peter knew how mad and determined his nemesis was. The Goblin would fulfill his promise and do it with the utmost glee.

Gwen showed up often:

"How are you doing, Pete?" The beautiful blond asked staring at her boyfriend in the hospital bed. "You're looking pretty good today."

Peter smiled despite the pain coming from his ribs, "Well, its not every day that such a young and beautiful woman shows up to say hello."

Gwen nodded, "You missed the first day of senior year. Everybody misses you?"

"I'm MIA at school for one day and already they're lost without me?" He gestured as if ready to take charge, "Looks like they need me."

"Heh." Gwen chucked slightly, "So, how's the food?"

Peter, jokingly, looked at her desperately, "Quick, get me something from the McDonald's across the street!"

She nodded as her watch beeped, "I have to get home." Gwen stood up, leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his cheek; "Take care of yourself, for me."

Harry did as well. Sometimes his forever stern father would show up:

"Well, the fact of the matter is that these doctors are here for you, Peter." Norman remarked sitting in a seat besides the bed. He was dressed like a businessman, official as ever. "God knows I pay them enough. If you want milk, you say so. Even if it is three in the morning."

Peter nodded, "I'll do that sir."

Norman grinned, "Good to hear, boy." His cell ran suddenly and without delay he pulled it out of his pocket and placed it against his ear. "Osborn here." He frowned, "Well, I don't care if Kingsly is giving us a fight. Listen, you handle his lawyers and I'll handle Roderick." He turned to Harry and Peter, "Forgive me, but this is important. I'll be back shortly." Norman slipped out of the room and began to argue with his lackey on the phone.

Harry shrugged, "Sorry about that, buddy." He looked apologetic, "My father has a habit of forgetting what he started talking about. You holding up?"

"Best as can be expected." Peter responded.

"Don't worry about any of this stuff." Harry suggested strongly, "You'll get out of here and everything will turn out fine."

Peter closed his eyes, "I wish that were true. God, how I wish that were true."

Even Flash came by on certain days:

"So, they got you wrapped up like a mummy, amigo?" Flash inquired.

"Yeah." Peter remarked, "I could die with these things on, but do you think the nurse's would ever care?" He said jokingly, "No way! They'd say: The patient in room nine just kicked the bucket…. Jerry Springer on?"

Flash grinned, "I suppose." He looked at one of the machines, "What would happen if I turned that dial."

"I'd expire."

"Oh?" Flash playfully ran his fingers across the edge of the machine, "Let's say something happened…I'd get your game console, right?"

Peter smiled, "Touch it and you die."

Of course it wasn't all fun:

"Hold still." Eddie Brock said with a certain amount of pleasure at seeing Parker confined to a bed, "I need to get these photos."

Peter grimaced, "I don't appreciate this one bit. Tell Jameson that he's really pushing my buttons."

"Jameson?" Eddie laughed, "He had nothing to do with this."

Peter rocked his head back in surprise, "So, why are you here?"

"I figure that you, one of our photographers, being in a hospital after such a bad beating will make me an easy buck." Brock answered, "Now smile, Parker."

On special days, Mary Jane Watson would drop by:

"Hello?" She asked entering the room. Upon seeing Peter she sighed and almost walked out.

"Don't leave." Peter said noticing her at the edge of his vision, "I was wondering when you'd drop by."

MJ smiled, "You look pretty bad, tiger." She walked towards Peter until she was at his side, "Are you feeling okay?"

Peter shrugged, "I've had better days." He grinned at the sight of her, "But now that you're here, not many." She smiled at him and they both traded a moment of intimacy. Feeling awkward, Peter decided to change the subject, "S-so how are things going with Harry?" He asked realized what a stupid subject it was that he had chosen in his haste.

"Alright, I guess." MJ said pulling away an inch. The tension building between them was noticeable. She smiled and asked very slowly, "You don't have any head injuries do you?"

Peter rubbed the side of his head, "No. MJ there is something I need to tell you" He lowered his head sadly, "I may be going away soon."

She frowned and brushed her elegant red hair away from her face, "Why? Has something happened?"

"Yes, but its not your fault. I won't you know that, this has nothing to do with you." Peter said his voice full of fear and desperation, "This is about me."

MJ lowered her head, "Are you sure you didn't suffer a concussion?" She asked jokingly.

"No." Peter said, "Please, MJ. I mean it, I am going away, it could be for a long time."

MJ frowned, "Does Gwen know?"

Peter shook his head from side-to-side.

"Why are you telling me this?" MJ inquired.

Peter took a deep breath and for a moment pondered the question, "I care about you, MJ, I care you about you more than you know. I needed to let you know I'd be fine. More than anybody else, you had to know."

However, even despite all of these people visiting him off and on there was always one consistency Peter could depend on. Watching either from a distance or nearby was uncle Ben.

Four days later:

At last everything was nearly ready. Inside his own base, one of his own warehouses that he had removed for use, the figure attempted to keep balance on the glider, succeeded, and hovered menacingly above the ground.

His crimson eyes gazed across the room and then at himself. His costume was substantially different from the original design. The once purple tunic, gloves and boots were now gray, shredded and torn. He had traded that ridiculous purple cap in for a dull gray hood that hid everything but his twisted face from sight. His skin was no better, he was not as bright as the Green Goblin but it looked shriveled, resembling a raisin in the sun for too long. Making sure his satchel was firmly in place he slowly emerged from the shadows to reveal him in the light for all that he was.

"Norman Osborn may have been the creator of the Goblin mystique but I am taking it one step further. Where there was once madness is now brilliance and foolishness is replaced with wisdom. Osborn may not know it just yet, but he is now the target of the HobGoblin! HAHAHAHA!"

The Goblin's sinister face stared at Peter. The signs of victory swept across his face. But his greatest triumph over his nemesis was yet to come. "Now that I have your undivided attention I want to tell you something. Tonight was just a warning, Spider-Man. I wanted you to know that I will take apart your life, person-by-person. I'll reveal your secret to the world and make you beg for death by the end. But before I kill you, I will humiliate you like you did to me." He powered up his glider, "The end of your pitiful life is coming. I suggest you savor every short moment that is left."

His eyes snapped open and gazed across the room slowly. Peter sighed deeply and in relief relaxed into the contours of his bed. "It was only a dream." He sighed, "Just a dream."

Peter had turned off the machines he was connected to and got into street clothes with a fair degree of haste. His injuries, however grave they had been were now gone thanks to his advanced healing factor.

After putting on his sneakers he slid the window open and gazed into the night. A cold wind forced itself in signaling that summer had ended.

He pulled on his jacket and leaned against the open window, realizing what his decision would mean for him.

"Peter?" Uncle Ben said waking up from his slumber, "What are you doing out of bed?" He said getting out of the hospital chair, "Go back to sleep."

"I'm feeling better." He said slowly.

Ben nodded, "I'm sure you do, get back to bed."

Peter shook his head and held back whatever tears of sorrow that he felt forming below the surface, "I can't. I'm going away uncle Ben, I have to and I don't know when you'll see me again."

"What do you mean?" Ben asked, his old hands shaking.

Peter sighed, "It was the Goblin, uncle Ben. I thought he was dead, I guess I was wrong. He came after me with a vengeance. He could have killed me if he wanted, but first he wants to rip my life apart. Starting with the people I care about."

"Dear God." Ben simply said, stunned and unable to respond in any other way.

"I can't risk you, any of you. I have to go away, distance myself from you all." Peter sighed and walked onto the ledge leading outside to the streets below.

Ben rushed to the window, "Peter, come back inside. For the love of God, don't do this. We can work this out."

"No." Peter replied sadly, "We can't." He looked down at the streets and frowned, "I love you, uncle Ben. Goodbye." He clasped his hands against the wall and ascended it.

Ben lost him as he made it onto the roof. He closed the window and sat on the bed, devastated. Peter was now alone. Whatever his fate is, it was out of Ben's hands. All he could was hope for the best.