Sorry I've taken longer than normal to add another chapter. This chapter is dedicated to my 'Purple Grandma.' I love you, and although I know you're happy now, in heaven getting the grand tour from Jesus, I miss you.

Thank you to my wonderful beta, Brook, without whom this would be a much worse fic. And I promise your critiquing (hey Brook, did I spell that right?) didn't leave me sobbing or in the fetal position. Colds are another story, just ask my crazy cousins.

Thank you also to those who have reviewed. Especially The-Dark's-Familiar and Angelo. I couldn't get through this without you.

DISCLAIMER: You're not the brightest crayon in the box if you think I own Spidey.

Something's Wrong with this Picture

People say revenge is sweet, but I know better now. Last night I killed the man who murdered my uncle, the only father figure I remember. I miss my uncle like crazy. Last night I fled after I killed my uncle's murderer and spent the rest of the night crying. I know it's all out of self-pity. Self-pity over my guilt for killing that man, murderer or not. And I felt sorry for myself because, well, how'll I get along now without my uncle's guidance? Sure my aunt is still alive, but she's not the same now. It's like someone left only glistening fragments in place of the glass ornament of her soul. Everyone's soul is fragile, hanging, depending on someone, or something. Mine is cracked and chipped, but my aunt-- I don't know. Her soul seems shattered. Utterly incomplete. I'm afraid to leave her alone. I didn't let her cook breakfast this morning because the last thing I need is more blood on my hands. AGH! There I go thinking about me first again. I honestly couldn't leave her alone in a room full of sharp objects though. I may be self-centered, but I

"PETER PARKER!"

Peter's head snapped up. He had been writing in a small notebook. Though Aunt May had called and explained that Peter needed time to grieve for his uncle, he couldn't afford to take it. He'd had pneumonia twice at the beginning of the year.

Now the school day was nearly over and he had spent most of it either spacing out or writing in his new journal. He didn't remember a single lesson for that day. Good thing he had jotted down all the homework that had been assigned.

"Huh?" Peter responded spacily, looking through, rather than at his teacher. His mind was once again starting to wander to the swirling chaos his life had, as some cosmic joke, been thrown into.

"Look, Parker, I know you have some personal issues to deal with right now, but DON'T drag them into my class," the teacher punctuated his order with a glare that would have melted the polar ice caps.

"Uh huh," Peter replied, unable to focus on what the teacher was saying.

"See me after class," the teacher said in a clipped manner.

"Uh huh," came the disturbed teen's automatic response.


After School

Peter caught up with Harry.

"Hey, Har!" His friend turned to him and smiled at him. The smile didn't quite reach the other teen's soft brown eyes. In fact, Peter thought Harry looked kind of run down. Like he'd wrestled the entire football team and then stayed up all night for kicks.

"Hey pal!"

Suddenly Peter felt uncomfortable because of what he was about to ask. He averted his eyes to the tarmac under his feet. He and Harry were still in the school parking lot. "Umm, Har, could I, like, come over to your place for a little while? I don't wanna go home 'til I absolutely have to. Too many reminders of, you know," Peter's voice became strained.

Harry cut him off so the other teen wouldn't start crying. It hurt him to see Peter cry. "Uh, yeah, sure." The moment the words were spoken he wanted to smack himself over the head. Do I just not have a brain or something? JEEZ! Dad's going to be working in his office all day, and he's so touchy lately. More so when he's working. Not that he hasn't always been adamant about silence when he's working. He even bought me that TV with a headphone jack for my birthday one year. Dad'll be so pissed if we make any noise. God I'm dumb! Nothing but air beneath the hair! Harry thought, shaking his head at the mental image of an empty space under his curly locks. "We'll have to be quiet though. Dad'll be in his office and he's kinda touchy when he's working."


The Osborn Mansion

Peter frowned as Harry cringed when the little black Honda they were in pulled into the driveway. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Harry asked.

Shrugging it off, the other teen muttered, "Nothing, I guess."

They quietly slipped in through the front door. Harry gently set his backpack on the floor under the coat rack. Peter's joined it with an inconspicuous thump. "You want a snack?" Harry asked quietly as he turned toward the kitchen.

"Sure." He followed his friend into the kitchen. Harry made a tuna and apple sandwich for Peter, which he knew was the teen's fave. For himself he made a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Meanwhile Peter made their mutual favorite drink. He mixed chocolate syrup and club soda and added a little banana slice at the top of each glass. It was something they had started when they were little and had seen Norman drinking something alcoholic with a slice of fruit on the glass.

When they exited the kitchen, and were about to go upstairs, Peter felt that same tingling sensation he'd had whenever anyone had thrown a punch or shot at him recently. Then that means there's some kind of danger nearby, but... that's impossible. This is the Osborn Mansion, the safest place this side of the George Washingon Bridge. Right? Peter frowned as these thoughts led down a trail to God-knows-where. Harry started to say something, effectively snapping Peter back to reality but another voice from the top of the staircase interrupted.

"Oh, Harry, you're back. And you've brought Parker. It's nice to see you again, kid." The voice sounded like Norman's, and yet... not. Actually it kinda sounds like he's high on helium, Peter thought with some amusement. Norman descended the staircase to where the two boys stood. The nearer the man came, the worse the tingling at the back of Peter's neck became. By the time Norman came to a halt, a mere three feet from them, the sense of danger was so bad that the teen just wanted to deck him. If the man took one more step, Peter knew he would lose it and hit him. The boy snuck a glance at his friend, looking for clues to what could make his 'danger alert thingy' go off like this around Norman.

And Peter got his clue.

Harry is stiff as a board, paler than moonlight, and his eyes are as wide as silver dollars. AAAGGH! This isn't the time for metaphors! This isn't a poetry lesson in English Lit. class! Peter chided himself. Turning hard blue eyes on the older Osborn, he forced himself to act civil. "Hi Mr. Osborn. Harry and I were just going up to his room to hang out a while and get some homework done, so if you don't mind..."

"Of course not. I'm glad this slacker is finally getting some work done," Norman replied with an overly sweet smile that was obviously only there for Peter's benefit. The older man stepped aside to let the two teens pass, and Peter gently nudged Harry to get the boy moving. Harry snapped back to reality and followed Peter up the steps as quickly as he could without raising his friend's suspicions.

Once they had reached the apparent safety of Harry's room, they set their plates and glasses down and Peter asked, "What was that?"

Harry sighed. "I dunno. Dad's been a little high-strung lately. Guess they're having trouble with the research project they're working on. Dad doesn't say much about it, but he's always more tense when he's been working on it."

"Oh." Peter dropped the subject, turning to his sandwich and drink. Inwardly, however, he was turning it over, wondering what was really going on. That sense-- hadn't the tour guide at the lab called it a 'spider sense?'-- wouldn't just go off if someone was a little tense, would it? He thought hard, trying to remember every time it had gone off. None of those times had been devoid of danger. Something more was going on than Harry was telling him, Peter was sure of it. Besides, there were other clues. Like the way Harry had seemed to dread coming into the mansion, and how he had gone all tense when Norman showed up. Yeah, something's up alright. I just have to find out what it is, Peter concluded. The other boy interrupted his thoughts when he joked.

"Hey, that's for eating, not just a decoration, Pete," Harry laughed, drawing his attention back to his snack.

Peter laughed, letting his previous thoughts slip to the back of his mind. He'd figure this out later, just like his new web slinging, spider-sense, and wall crawling abilities. Right now though, he was hungry.

TBC...


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