FAITH IN HUMANITY
THE THIRD AFTERMATH

June 24th, 2004

Peter sat on the sofa in his aunt's apartment. She brought him a cup of coffee, and sat down next to him, looking at him expectantly.

"Me and MJ broke up," Peter said quietly. "I mean...it was before you came to see me, before the battle, everything. We broke up. And I did-" He swallowed. "Some nasty things. To hurt her."

May just drank her coffee. "What kind of things?"

"I took another girl to the Jazz Club. You know, she works there now, she was gonna sing. I wanted to spite her. And...and...while I was there, there was a fight..." He shook his head. "I started a fight. And when she tried to stop me, I hit her. It was an accident, but...I hurt her." He stared down at the carpet.

"That doesn't sound like you at all," May said delicately. Then she said, "When was the last time you saw her?"

"After the battle. I went to her flat, and then I left her with her parents."

"I see. You haven't called her?"

"I don't know what to..." He shook his head. "One of our best friends is dead, Aunt May. And she was in danger, and she's...she's always gonna be in danger. Because of Spider-Man," he finished lamely. "I don't know what to do."

Aunt May stood up, went to the sink and rinsed her coffee cup. "I'm giving piano lessons again, you know. For a little extra cash." She didn't look at him, just stared thoughtfully out of the window. "I had some kids in yesterday. Their minds weren't really on their lessons, though, I suspect. They were all talking about something else."

"About what happened with Spider-Man?"

"Indeed," May said. She walked back to her seat. "It was all they could talk about. About Spider-Man, and Spider-Man's friend, and the lady in the web. How so very brave they all were." She sat down. "How they didn't give up and didn't stop until the city was safe again. How..." She searched for the word. "Amazing, it all was."

Peter couldn't look at her.

"They played games for a bit. Running around, pretending to swing from things, pretending to throw bricks and bombs. It was all I could do not to send them all home." She smiled, and gave him a look Peter found impossible to read. "To think of it, Peter. Of those kids growing up in the care of such fine people."

"Yeah," Peter croaked. He drunk the remainder of his coffee. Silence hung in the air for a long time.

"You and MJ will be fine," May said finally. "I know you will." She took his coffee cup from him. "When's the funeral?" she asked.

"Tomorrow."

June 25th, 2004

It rained.

Peter- May and MJ by his side, although one of them seemed barely there- wandered numbly around the graveyard, talking to people. He knew most of them- Gwen and her father, Bernard, a few of the old teachers from highschool, some Oscorp employees who he vaguely recognized. Even Flash Thompson was there.

"Hey," he said, grabbing Peter as he passed. "Peter? Wanted to say sorry."

"Thanks, Flash."

Flash nodded. He looked nervous, and vaguely guilty. "I know we never...liked each other, back in high school. But...if you want...I got plenty alcohol, if you want to sit around and not talk about old times."

"Thanks," Peter said again, meaning it. He attempted to make conversation. "Um...how's Liz?"

"She didn't come," Flash said, with a slight frown. "I think she wanted to, but she's been kinda sick lately." He sighed. "This sucks."

"You're telling me."

"He died saving Spider-Man, right? That's what the papers say."

"Yeah."

"But he hated him."

"I guess he changed his mind."

They stood there in awkward silence. The rain continued to fall.

"I gotta go," Flash said. "See ya around."

"See ya."

Flash went away. Peter stood on his own, staring at the ground, watching his shoes sink into the mud. And then he walked to the gravestone, and stood there, just looking at it.

"I notice Spider-Man didn't show up," he heard someone say loudly in the distance. He ignored it.

HARRY OSBORN, the gravestone said. BELOVED SON & FRIEND.

May walked up to him, Gwen walking alongside her. Gwen put her hand, very awkwardly, on Peter's shoulder. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," he answered.

"Um, it's forgotten," she said, and it took him a second or two to realise what she meant. "Peter?"

"Sure," he said, only just meeting her eyes. "Yeah."

Gwen withdrew her hand, but continued speaking. "I'm sorry, Peter. About your friend. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he answered.

Gwen swallowed, anxiously glanced at May, and carried on. "Um...Spider-Man saved my life. As you probably know. I...I think...I don't know what really happened last week, and I guess none of us ever will, but..." She trailed off. "I can't get this right. I'm sorry, Peter."

"I know what you mean," Peter said, not meeting her eyes.

"Yeah," Gwen murmured. She looked desperately uncomfortable, and rather sad. "I'm sorry, Peter. I really am." She backed away then, and hurried across the grass, a blur of black and white against the green. Peter sighed, and turned to his aunt.

"Speak to Mary Jane," May said quietly. "She's hurting. So are you." And then she walked away too, her head held high in the rain. Peter remained where he was. He felt utterly and completely miserable. Wretched, he thought the word might be.

"Peter," MJ said.

He turned around and looked at her.

"It..." she said, biting her lip. "It...wasn't your fault. You know that, right? None of it was."

"Right," he said quietly.

Neither of them said anything else, and the rain poured down. Then, finally, MJ spoke.

"I'll...I'll see you," she whispered. "My parents are here."

He looked at her, suddenly anxious.

"Goodbye," she said, and she walked away, not looking back. Peter watched her go. It seemed like he stayed there for years, watching her leave- but in truth it was less than a minute. And then she was gone, and he remained just standing there, feeling hopelessly, horrendously alone.

"Come back," he whispered.

Nobody did.

Slowly, the rain started to cease.

Most everyone had left the graveyard, and Peter was alone there. He walked a little way, through the wet grass, and stopped opposite another grave.

"Hey," he said, and brushed some leaves out of the way. "Hey, Uncle Ben." He put down the umbrella and held it at his side. "I guess you know what happened," he began sadly. "About Harry. It was my fault. Sort of. Like it was with you, it was enough of my fault." He blinked. "I never even thanked him. He saved my life and I didn't thank him."

The wind blew through the trees, and the sun came out a little.

"I don't want everyone I love," Peter said fiercely, "to end up in this graveyard." He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know what to do. I could've screwed up even worse than I did, I guess. I just..." He sighed. "I don't know. Don't even know what to think. I bet if you were alive, you'd tell me not to blame myself."

He picked a bit of twig off the top of the gravestone.

"I'll go," he said quietly. "I just wish I could make it right."

Nothing happened at all- no voices, no ghosts, no sudden sunlight, nothing. Peter stood and waited and thought, and then he walked away. He trudged to the edge of the graveyard, made it out, and sat down on a bench. He put his head in his hands for a few seconds, then raised it again.

He sat there for a long time. People walked past him and didn't give him a second glance. Blurred, disconnected thoughts and bits of conversation moved around his mind.

The world they're living in, it's a different place because of me- mask or not, you're different- he would be very proud of you, you know-

-none of that matters, Peter, you're my friend-

A small gang of kids ran past.

"I wanna be Spider-Man!" one of them was yelling. "Why'd you always get to be him?"

"'Cos I do," said one of the girls. "You can be Spider-Man's friend. Then you save him."

"But he's dead, Susie. The TV said he died."

"Don't care!"

They disappeared into the distance. Peter watched them go. Then he sighed, and stood.

hey come back, it'll start again in a few minutes-

He looked back at the graveyard, and then went home. He walked slowly down the street, just a face in the crowds. When he got back, he changed into his costume, and then pulled his grey suit and jacket on over that. He opened the small chest in the cupboard, pulled out his one remaining mask, and put it in his pocket. Then he went to the window, and flung himself out into the air.

He stopped at the graveyard one more time, then he went to the Jazz Club.