The doctor had been skittish, patching Peter up quickly and avoiding eye contact. It was the same way with almost everyone else in the building, though a few brave police officers gave him belligerent stares, as if they would have liked to pound the crap out of him. Peter's spirits sunk lower and lower, until he felt as though he was already in hell. Was this what it was going to be like for the rest of his life?

He still couldn't quite grasp the fact that his identity was now common knowledge. Things were going to be completely different. He wouldn't be able to walk down the street without someone recognizing him. Criminals would be able to find him, or would hold his loved ones hostage.

Scratch that. You don't have loved ones anymore, remember?

Somehow, that didn't make him feel much better.

Pulling on the hoodie the doctor had so thoughtfully thrown at him, Peter made his way to the door. All he wanted to do was go home to his apartment, curl up under the covers of his bed, and never go outside again. Still deep in thought, he stepped out onto the street.

The flash of cameras and the frantic voices of reporters assaulted him in an instant. Obviously the whereabouts of Spiderman had not been a closely guarded secret. Recoiling in horror from the totally unwanted attention, Peter stumbled backwards into the jail and slammed the door shut in the reporters' faces.

"Oh my God…" He gripped his head in his hands, suddenly feeling very sick. This was all real. It wasn't just some dream.

"Oh… my… what am I going to do?" he whispered. He felt as though he had jumped from a very high cliff, with no parachute and know way of knowing what was at the bottom. He had no idea where to go from here. Would he still be able to go to school? Have a job? Make friends? Be Spiderman? Fall in love?

Don't think about love. Look at what happened the last time you did.

Pushing all these thoughts from his mind, he set off purposefully, determined to find a way out that did not include forcing his way through hordes of reporters. Finally settling for a window on the third floor, he jumped out and swung to his apartment.

Not bothering to conceal his arrival, Peter landed on the balcony and entered the run – down hovel that he had called home for the past five years. He was glad to see that everything was as he had left it. The police obviously hadn't been able to obtain a search warrant, and Mr. Ditkovich, despite his faults, wasn't one to let random, curious people enter his tenant's apartments, even if said tenant was a world – famous superhero.

Peter collapsed gratefully onto his bed, glad that some things in his life remained constant. Not even taking off his filthy jeans, the exhausted young man crawled under the covers and promptly fell asleep, promising himself that he wouldn't worry about tomorrow until it came.

Peter woke to the sound of his alarm clock. Groaning, he pressed the snooze button. Five minutes later, he did it again. Finally, he pulled himself out of bed. Maybe he'd actually be on time for Dr. Connors' lecture today…

And then he remembered. Dr. Connors, along with the rest of the world, now knew exactly why he was always late to class.

Peter was sorely tempted to just go back to bed, but then reason intervened. He was going to have to face this sooner or later, so it might as well be today. Feeling butterflies dancing in his stomach, he peeled off the previous day's blackened, bloodied clothes and donned some that were not quite so dirty. He didn't have time to take a proper shower, so he tried to get the worst of the filth out of his hair by washing it in the sink. On his way out of the bathroom, he ran smack dab into his landlord.

An awkward moment passed. Finally Mr. Ditkovich, who seemed to be having difficulty forming words, just nodded to him and brushed by into the bathroom. Hoping this first encounter would be the worst, Peter grabbed his books, put up his hood, and walked the four blocks to the Colombia campus. He had not had a chance to recover his moped or his shirt from the alley. He only hoped they would still be there.

By hunching his shoulders and keeping his face hidden in the hood of the sweater, Peter made it to Colombia without incident. But, hovering at the gate and recalling all the times he had sprinted through the square, all the times he had felt like an idiot when he dropped his books, all the times he had been ridiculed and called a jerk, he realized that he didn't have to go through that anymore. He was Spiderman, and he didn't have to be ashamed.

Pushing his hood down and pulling his shoulders back, he entered the campus with confidence, standing tall and proud. People stopped and stared at him, whispered to each other, pointed. And for the very first time, he didn't feel like Peter Parker the boy. He felt like Peter Parker, the man.

He was only a few minutes late to class. Trying not to distract Dr. Connors or the other students, he entered quietly and slipped into the nearest seat. But he was still noticed. The room went utterly silent. Peter shifted uncomfortably and shot a pleading look at Dr. Connors. The one – armed professor caught on quickly and called the students' attention back to the front. Peter tried to pay attention, but he could still feel people's gazes fixed on the back of his neck.

Suddenly, he realized the girl sitting next to him was sliding in his direction and batting her eyes seductively. He moved away from her, aware that twenty – four hours ago, this girl wouldn't have given him the time of day. But she refused to be ignored. Latching onto his shoulder, she brought her mouth to his ear and whispered sensually, "How 'bout we go somewhere after class, hmmm?"

"Yeah, why don't you go to your apartment and I'll go to mine?" Pete whispered back, and silently tried to detach himself from the girl's well - manicured hands.

"No, together, silly!" she giggled.

At the noise, Dr. Connors' head whipped round and he barked, "Miss Anderson! Would you care to tell me what you are doing that is so important you have to discuss it during my class?"

Still gripping Peter by the shoulder, the girl giggled again and said entirely unashamedly, "Oh, Dr. Connors sir! We were just talking about where we should meet for our next date!"

Unable to stand it any longer, Peter tore himself free from the girl, grabbed his books and moved next to a boy who would probably not give him the same trouble. Miss Anderson looked slightly miffed, but he was sure that she would get over it quickly.

The rest of the lesson passed slowly. Peter found himself unable to concentrate, too wrapped up was he in wonderings and worries. Instead of taking notes, he drew a detailed picture of Mary – Jane, and wondered what she must be thinking now, as she sat next to her astronaut husband and watched the news of her former best friend's secret identity. Would she be shocked? Of course she would be shocked. But would she feel regret? Would she realize that this was the reason he had let her down so many times?

It hurt to think of her. It hurt to look at her. So he crumpled up her picture and threw it in the trash. He sat there for the remainder of the lesson, head in his hands, ignoring the occasional stares of his classmates and teacher.

"Peter? Can I see you after class?"

He raised his head to see Dr. Connors waiting for a reply. Wearily, he nodded. As the students began to leave, the boy sitting next to Peter turned to him and handed him a sheet of paper. A copy of his notes for the entire lesson.

"You looked like you needed some help," he said kindly. Peter smiled at him gratefully. The boy nodded and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Keep your head up, okay? Only the stupid people believe those things in the Daily Bugle."

"Thank you," Peter whispered. And the boy left.

It's nice to know there are still some kind people in the world, Peter thought as he made his way to Dr. Connors' desk. He stood in front of it, and the professor looked up at him.

"So…"

"So…?"

"Well, now I know why you're never here."

Peter looked down at his feet uncomfortably.

"Did you want to ask me something, Dr. Connors?"

The man looked thoughtful, and then said, "I just wanted to apologize for all the times I was harsh, or tough on you. I didn't realize…"

"Nobody did. And I'm glad you were tough on me. I'd never have gotten this far if you weren't."

Dr. Connors looked mildly surprised. "You are brilliant, Peter. But up until yesterday, I thought you were just lazy. Now I know better."

He smiled up at the young man. "If you ever need any help, with anything, just ask me alright?"

Peter nodded, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Peter?"

"Yes?"

"You're paper on fusion is still due. Get it done, okay? I don't want to have to fail you."

The boy grinned. "Don't worry, Dr. Connors. You'll get it."

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