Chapter 10

Peter stirred slowly as he rubbed his eyes, groaning as his eyes fluttered open as they started to focus on his surroundings. Grunting a bit, he pushed himself up on the couch as he found himself wearing a light blue t-shirt now. This one was thankfully not soaked with blood as he gritted his teeth a bit, using his free hand to push himself to a sitting position as he kicked the blankets off of him. Gingerly, he gripped the hem of his t-shirt as he yanked it up a bit, sliding it up over his head as he went to examine his shoulder. Peter was pleasantly surprised to find that his shoulder was expertly bandaged, and where his shoulder should probably be on fire, there was only a gentle throbbing sensation. Rubbing it gently, he shifted so he was sitting on the edge of the couch, with his legs kicking out over the edge of the couch and hanging just above the floor of the basement.

Peter looked around the room, immediately searching for a clock to discover how long he'd been out and he was shocked to find there was no clock down in the basement. In fact, apart from the couch, there wasn't a whole lot of substance in the basement. Peter sat there for a second, eyes falling upon a work table across from the couch on the far wall. Surrounding the work table were numerous unpacked boxes, bearing neatly written labels to indicate the contents inside. Peter cocked his head to the side, observing that inside of those various cardboard boxes, according to the labels, were items such as lab materials, books and memorabilia, among other things.

The box labeled memorabilia was partially opened, with a picture of a woman emerging from the top. Peter knew without even looking who the picture was, shaking his head sadly as he went to go push himself to his feet as his nostrils inhaled the scent of coffee wafting down from upstairs. Wobbling a bit unsteadily, he started to move towards the stairs cautiously when the door at the top of the stairs creaked open and flooded the downstairs with light. His body tensed a bit, his eyes adjusting to the light as a shadowy figure started to come down the stairs as a familiar, reassuring voice called out, "Glad to see you're awake, Peter."

Despite the calm nature of the voice, he felt his Spider sense flash a bit as Dr. Curt Connors reached the bottom of the stairs with a cup of coffee in one hand, a paper tucked under his arm and a smile on his face. Peter gave a weak smile in return, finding himself slightly dizzy as he walked back towards the couch to sit down and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee that Dr. Connors slid into his hand.

Taking a rejuvenating sip, he thanked him for the coffee as he responded with, "Morning, Dr. Connors."

"You seem to be doing pretty well, Peter." said Dr. Connors, "How's your shoulder?" as he used his hand to check the bandages.

Peter winced involuntarily as he leaned backwards onto the couch, slightly guided by Connors as he illustrated the bedside manner which he had probably used during the war working with soldiers. It was in fact during that same war that he'd lost his arm in a blast, which would ultimately lead to a tragic series of events.

Curt Connors was a gifted surgeon, but the blast forced him to amputate his arm. Returning to the United States, he became consumed with the idea of regaining his lost arm and this eventually lead him to reading up on reptilian biology. Specifically, Dr. Connors was intrigued by the fact that some reptiles could grow back their limbs in the event that they lost them. Mixing reptile DNA with a serum of his own making, he consumed the serum. The serum was overwhelmingly successful, as his arm grew back. Unfortunately, there was one major side effect of the serum and that was the serum also transformed him into a giant lizard.

Over the years, Connors had attempted to cure himself of becoming the Lizard, with varying degrees of success. The cure that Peter had discovered was only temporary. Usually, stress or some chemical reaction would trigger another transformation. Another temporary cure would be administered and then, inevitably the cycle would repeat itself. The battle with the Lizard had taken its toll over Connors over time, but at the moment, he appeared to be in control. For now, he seemed to be Dr. Curt Connors, the same brilliant professor that Peter had been lab assistant to all those years ago. Although, Peter noticed, he seemed definitely tense and nervous. Of course, Peter reasoned, that could be due to the fact that he had an escaped fugitive in his basement.

"How's it look, doctor?" Peter said, giving a chuckle that caused him to gasp a bit in pain.

"You were in pretty bad shape when you arrived here,." Connors replied, "I've done the best I can with medical supplies from the lab, but you really ought to be in a hospital."

Peter shook his head as he went to go slip his shirt back on, effectively ending the examination as he winced, "I'll be fine. Dr. Connors. You know I can't go to a hospital right now."

Dr. Connors pulled a chair up to next to the couch as he gave a rueful smile, "I know that, Peter. There are a lot of things that I don't know though. I only know what I've read in the papers and seen on television."

"I was on television?" Peter asked with surprise.

"Of course," said Dr. Connors, "You even made the front page of the Bugle." as he picked the paper up off the floor, dropping it into Peter's lap as he unfolded it, looking over the front page which was dominated by two major stories. The first was concerning the Joker's appearance here in New York City. Following his robbery of the Bank of America, he had disappeared and despite the best efforts of the police, his whereabouts remained unknown. Peter shook his head angrily, knowing this was yet another problem he needed to deal with. Why was the Joker here anyway? This was a little out of his usual jurisdiction in Gotham City and the timing couldn't have been worse for the Joker to appear. Not that there was ever a good time for the Joker to arrive in New York but if there was ever a bad time, this would be it.

That of course brought him to the other issue at hand and at the moment, a far more pressing one. While the front page had a picture of the Joker plastered across it, there was a picture on the lower half of the page with investigators sifting through the wreckage of the warehouse which has burned down to the ground. Firefighters as well as police officers searched through the charred aftermath of the warehouse explosion and the subsequent fire. Even more alarming than the picture was the headline that accompanied the picture, reading: Police Chase Ends In Tragedy. In smaller subtype below the headline was a smaller headline and it read: Bugle Photographer Presumed Dead.

Peter didn't even bother hiding his shock and knew he wouldn't be able to if he tried. Peter gripped the paper tightly as he scanned over the article. The article reported the chase leading up to the warehouse stalemate with surprising accuracy, even though Peter wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to get shot. Peter felt his shoulder throb as a testimony and reminder to the events of last night as he flipped over to page 2 to continue the story. Peter was pleased to see that the fire hadn't spread too far to the surrounding buildings and that nobody had died in the fire. Nobody had died, of course, except for himself.

Peter took a few more minutes to survey the article as he finally folded it back, handing it back to Dr. Connors as he looked up, saying questioningly "So, everybody thinks I'm dead?"

Dr. Connors gave a bit of a grin that didn't match his eyes as he said, "Well, I have my doubts."

Suddenly, Peter had an image flash through his mind of Aunt May waking up to a phone call from a friend or neighbor, being informed that he was dead. Losing Uncle Ben nearly killed her and Peter couldn't even imagine what the thought that she had lost Peter would do to her. Pushing himself up a sitting position immediately as his eyes flickered around the room for a phone as Dr. Connors frowned, attempting to guide him back down.

"You need to rest, Peter." Dr. Connors said calmly yet forcefully, "You got shot last night, in case you didn't remember." Dr. Connors fixed him with a stern gaze that Peter matched with his eyes filled with equal intensity.

"I need to call my Aunt May." Peter stated. By way of explanation, his eyes flickered down towards the paper and Dr. Connors eyes followed his, nodding with obvious understanding but not slowing down his attempt to lay Peter back down .

"Well, I'll go get you a phone if you lay down." Dr. Connors said, pushing himself until he was standing over Peter, and then turned to walk upstairs. Gripping the railway of the stairs as he headed up to get the phone and upon reaching the top of the stairs, he turned around, looking at Peter.

"I'll be right back," Dr. Connors stated, "Don't move." With those words, he headed upstairs and emerged only moments later with a portable phone, making his way down the stairs. Peter remained prone upon the couch, watching Dr. Connors, clad in his familiar white lab coat, as he brought the phone over. It seemed like an eternity, but finally the plastic of the portable phone was in his hands and within seconds, he dialed the number to Aunt May's. Another eternity, which in reality of course was only seconds, as the phone rang until Aunt May's trembling voice came onto the line.

"Aunt May?" Peter said immediately, "It's me."

"Who is this?" Aunt May said, obviously startled and just as obviously in the middle of crying, "Peter?"

"I'm safe, Aunt May." Peter said, listening to Aunt May's trembling voice as she struggled for composure.

"But, the papers said that you were dead." Aunt May said softly, her voice starting to return to normal as Peter listened to her sniffling.

"You can't believe everything you read in the papers," Peter said, giving a soft chuckle as he winced in pain, then proceeded to tell Aunt May the course of events from last night, as well as everything he'd discovered so far. Aunt May listened to the story with rapt interest, gasping in all the right places until the moment he finally finished relating everything that had occurred since the moment he'd left her.

By the time he finished with how he had finally escaped the warehouse, but omitting the part where he had been shot and his current place of residence since Peter figured there was no point in worrying her any further. If Aunt May knew that he'd been shot, there was no telling how much fretting that would cause. Then again, she had already been told by the papers that he was dead so discovering that he had only been shot might have been a relief. Nor would probably the fact that he was staying at Dr. Connor's house overly worry her. Even though The Lizard had been a serious nemesis over the years, Aunt May had always considered him a very nice man and always referred to him as that "Nice Dr. Connors.". But, the more important factor to remember was that the police already suspected that he was in contact with Aunt May, so the less she knew the better. Not knowing where he currently was prevented her from being able to answer when she was asked. That was obviously an issue, which was only confirmed in the next few moments when they concluded his part of the story, but it turned out Aunt May had a story of her own .

"Thank God you're safe, Peter." Aunt May said, taking a moment to breathe in a huge sigh of relief, "But, Peter, there is something I need to tell you.

"What's that?" Peter asked, noticing the change in Aunt May's voice as she said those words.

"The police searched your apartment last night." Aunt May informed him softly.

It took Peter a second to realize the implications those words could hold. In the midst of all the chaos and insanity surrounding the events of the past day, Peter hadn't considered the increased scrutiny that would be placed on his life as Peter Parker. He took a sharp intake of breathe as immediately his thoughts flashed to the hidden section in his closet. It was there that his spare Spiderman costume was stored. What if the police had discovered….?

"Do they know?" Peter asked suddenly, breathing heavily as Dr. Connors looked at him with concern. Turning slightly away from him as Peter felt his heart pounding wildly, waiting for Aunt May's answer.

"No," Aunt May blurted out, "At least I don't think so."

Shaking his head as he felt dizzy all of a sudden, considering what a potential catastrophe this could turn out to be. If the police discovered the costume, web shooters and everything else, then there would only be one obvious conclusion to draw. The world would find out that Peter Parker is Spiderman.

"Aunt May," Peter said, attempting to keep his voice steady, "I have to go. I'll call you later, alright?"

"Just be careful, Peter." Aunt May said softly, "I love you."

"I love you too, Aunt May." Peter responded, then added, "Don't worry about me." Immediately after that, he clicked the phone off before the inevitable "I will" followed. At the end of the conversation, Peter knew what he had to do.

Peter got off the phone, as Dr. Connors walked over to him, his eyes filled with obvious worry, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Doc." Peter said, still contemplating this latest turn of events, "I just need to rest."

"That's understandable," Dr. Connors said, the frown remaining on his face, "You've been through a lot, Peter."

"Thank you for everything you've done so far," Peter said with a nod of appreciation, "I have one more favor to ask though."

But, before he could ask, the phone in his hand rang as Dr. Connors immediately picked up the phone and answered it. Whoever the voice was on the other line brought a frown to Dr. Connors face as he turned back towards Peter.

"I have to take this, Peter." Dr. Connors said with an apologetic smile, "I'll be right back." Dr. Connors headed upstairs for a moment, his words soft and low so as to be completely inaudible to Peter. Dr. Connors closed the upstairs door forcefully as Peter relaxed on the couch again.

When Dr. Connors returned a few minutes later, he found the room empty. The sheets lay in a heap on the floor as Dr. Connors noticed the open window. The frown on his face deepened as his fingers gripped the phone tightly, then dialed a number that he knew from memory.

Dr. Connors waited for a few seconds for the recipient of his phone call to finally pick up and with a deep sigh, Doctor Connors reported the voice on the other end of the line, "He's gone."