Disclaimer: This is the final entry to the story, and the cast chapter will be following shortly. I'd like to send a shout out to Prince of Winter Dragons and Transformers g1's-Prime for their undying support in keeping this story alive to the end. Thank you.

Chapter XXX

Jean DeWolff arrived at the George Washington Bridge following seemingly conflicting reports of a dead body below the bridge. The EMT's were there already, one kneeling down over a black body bag. Other officers from forensics were tapering off the immediate area as DeWolff the main EMT. At the same time, Peter swung back to the scene were he left Gwen, but he quickly halted his approach and took up a position in a concealed part of the bridge. He was already scared out of his mind just by seeing the police at the scene, even with DeWolff being there to back him up.

DeWolff was unaware of Peter's presence when she knelt beside the EMT. "What'd we got?" she asked.

The EMT was male, likely in his mid-to-late 20's… and he personally hated his job if his statement was any indication. "Caucasian female, likely between late teens and early 20's. The cause of death appears to a fatal stab wound to the back coupled with additional internal damage. It's possible she might've fell from atop the bridge."

"Has she been identified yet?" DeWolff asked, but she noted the EMT was particularly disturbed.

"See for yourself." he said.

DeWolff wasn't amused but she opened the bag, and her heart sank once she recognized the victim. "Jesus. This is George Stacy's daughter."

From his hiding spot, Peter struggled to keep from exploding down to the site and fighting off the police and taking possession of Gwen's body. But he knew that wouldn't do him any favors or endear him to the police, even with DeWolff's backing. For all he knew, they'd place the blame solely on him. Ultimately, he had no other choice but to remain hidden from view.

Back on the crime scene, DeWolff asked, "Any sign of the murder weapon, if any?"

"There's no sign of the weapon but the size of the wound and its angle suggested it was a serrated blade thrown at high velocity." the EMT stated.

Another officer approached DeWolff. "Captain, we've got reports of a second fatality, at the OsCorp facility."

"Who's the victim?"

"Norman Osborn."

DeWolff was even more shocked now when she said, "Alright, prep the body for morgue."

Peter watched the EMT's close the bag in which Gwen's body laid and started to load into an ambulance. It was for a split second that became instantly agonizing, that Peter wanted to charge in and fight off the police. He wanted to take Gwen's body away somewhere and give her proper burial. But he held himself back, because like it had been with the Green Goblin boasting prior to his own demise, Gwen wouldn't have wanted that. So Peter remained where he was hiding until the EMT's loaded the ambulance. The ambulance departed soon after followed by the police cars. Only Jean DeWolff remained at the site for a few minutes. She looked up toward Peter's direction, but it was by that time that Peter was already gone.

Jean whispered to herself, "God's speed, George; for you and for your daughter." Then she started to leave.

Peter eventually returned home exhausted and worn, his suit torn in places and seeping with trickles of blood. His body as he felt was bruised all over, but Peter thought nothing about the physical pain. The images of not only Gwen, but also Norman, both dead, were too much for him to endure. Peter tried to get his mind off it, but still, he couldn't shake the images out of his head. His breathing became deep and erratic. He paced around the broken room that only one night before was where he and Gwen truly expressed their love for each other.

Then he snapped. He brought down the bedside cabinet and sent the contents falling to the floor. He stormed into the closet and ripped every article of clothing from the rack and then kicked a laundry basket into the wall. Peter exploded with a loud scream that echoed throughout the apartment, before taking some of his science equipment and throwing it into the wall. The equipment shattered on impact and the pieces fell to the floor. Peter wanted to bring down his dresser next, but he only violently shook before finally backing away. He collapsed against the fall and dropped to the floor, brushed both hands through his hair and fell into complete silence all by himself.

The following morning, Mary Jane was at the door to the apartment with a frantic vibe coursing through her being. She banged on the door and called out, "Peter… Peter, are you there?"

No answer came from the apartment and Mary Jane grew even more concerned that she's already been when she arrived. Instinctively, she reached for the knob even though she expected it to be locked. To her surprise, the door was unlocked, and Peter hardly even left it so. Mary Jane entered the apartment to find it a mess, as if Peter or Harry had a wild party. The shards of broken glass and a small stain of blood on the floor suggested otherwise. Mary Jane was terrified of what might have happened to Peter until Peter emerged from his room.

Peter had on a t-shirt and sweat pants, but he looked like hell. He had a seemingly blank stare that seemed to be looking well beyond Mary Jane, as if he'd come back to life a zombie. Mary Jane slowly approached Peter as he staggered and stop him with her hands grabbing his shoulders. Peter remained utterly stoic and almost completely robotic, but Mary Jane was a mix of emotion, not the least of which pure sadness and despair.

"Peter, where've you been? I've been trying to call you morning," she said, but Peter remained stoic. "Peter, are you listening to me. Look at me, Peter. Look at me."

Peter appeared to be responding with subtle movements of his eyes, then his lips and finally his face. "Mary Jane…" he spoke weakly and sounded lost.

Mary Jane was fighting away the tears that were welling up in her eyes to no avail. Her face contorted and her throat was choked when she finally said, "Gwen's dead. She's gone, Peter."

Peter still remained eerily silent, and only then did Mary Jane realize that he already knew that Gwen was gone. Why he didn't immediately say anything was beyond her. She was a mix of emotions, including a pang of anger toward Peter. She wanted to slap him for keeping quiet about Gwen's death, if only to quell the overwhelming grief in his heart. But Peter; he was seemingly devoid of emotion, but then he began to breath shallow. His breathing then increased, becoming deep and laborious. He pulled away from Mary Jane and wondered to a corner of the living room. Mary Jane watched Peter as he paced around without direction all while steadily losing control of himself.

"I couldn't save her. I couldn't save her, Mary Jane. The Goblin, he… he found her and he killed her. I should've been here for her. I should've…" Peter said.

Mary Jane took a single step forward and replied, "Peter, there's nothing you could've done. There's no way in the world that you could've known."

"I let her down, Mary Jane. I failed her just like I failed Uncle Ben." Peter said before he punch the wall.

He couldn't hold back anymore and sank to the floor before finally breaking down into tears. Mary Jane wasn't entirely what Peter was saying regarding how he failed Gwen or his Uncle. She did know that in the end, Peter was broken. Seeing Peter weeping on the floor and curled into a ball made he shed tears of her own and she approached him. She knelt down beside him and tried to touch. He pulled away in vain protest before he accepted the embrace. Peter continued to cry in Mary Jane's arms and eventually, Mary Jane broke down as well.

A few days later, everyone that knew Gwen Stacy in one form or another were gathered at the cemetery to say their final goodbyes. Peter and Mary Jane were obviously in attendance, standing side by side and in front of everyone else. Aunt May was able to make an appearance as she also stood beside Peter. Liz Allen was there, Sally Avril was as well as Kenny Kong and Glory Grant, and even Flash Thompson was attending with Debra Whitman. Curt Connors and his family attended as well. Peter was surprised to see that even some of his Bugle coworkers were also attending the funeral, particularly Betty and Robbie… and even Jonah. That was something Peter wasn't expecting.

The only person who didn't attend the funeral was Harry. He was conspicuous by his absence, which was odd considering he felt about Gwen. Harry had to have his reasons, and Peter wasn't surprised if those reason involved his father. Under the afternoon sun and with a light wind blowing through, those who came to pay respects dropped flowers atop the mahogany casket in which Gwen now rested. Then with the pastors blessing, Mary Jane went to the podium with a eulogy prepared to speak of Gwen.

"When I first met Gwen Stacy, we didn't immediately get along. Whenever you stopped to look at us side by side, you could tell just how opposite we were from each other. Gwen was the more reserved and quiet of us, and I was the loud party girl. We share a rivalry for the attention just one guy and I got to him first. I could never forget the look on Peter Parker's face when I told him that he'd hit the jackpot. Looking back now, I can say that Peter hit the jackpot a long time ago." Mary Jane paused to wipe a tear away before she continued. "Eventually and with a little effort, Gwen and I became best friends. In fact, she became as much a sister as I ever could want. So Gwen, wherever you've gone, just know that I love you and miss you and know in my heart that we'll see each other some day."

Mary Jane was choked up by the time she stepped away from the podium. She inched to the casket and pressed her fingers to her lip before touching the casket. There were others among the mourners who wept albeit subtle. Peter fought back the tears as Mary Jane returned to his side and Aunt May held his hand. Mary Jane embraced him for added support. Then watched as the casket was lowered into the six-foot grave that was situated beside that of George Stacy. Peter looked at a portrait of Gwen with a beaming smile and bright eyes. It brought some small measure of comfort to Peter knowing that Gwen was laid to rest beside her father. But the pain was still there and he'd likely never be relieved of it.

After several more minutes mourning, the attendees began to clear away. Peter was about to wonder when Jonah approached him from behind. "Parker." he said.

Peter wasn't interested in whatever Jonah had to say to him and replied, "Mr. Jameson, I'm not…"

Out of the blue, Jonah grabbed Peter and embraced him. He said, "I'm sorry for your loss here, son. I really am."

Peter didn't know what to say other than, "Thanks you."

Jonah broke the embrace and rubbed Peter's shoulders. "Take whatever amount of time you need, alright? When you're ready to come on back to work, we'll be there for you."

Peter was at a loss by Jonah's uncharacteristic gesture, but he found it welcoming all the same. I didn't see that coming.

As soon as Jonah had gone, Peter started to wander away to be alone for a while. The rest of the day was quiet except for the light wind blowing through the cemetery. Peter strolled through the grounds without stopping for more than a moment, spending the alone to gather his thoughts. Among them, he wondered to himself just where he was supposed to go from there. Peter found his way to one particular spot on the grounds, and it was here that he stood at the head stone of his late Uncle Ben. Two years was a long, and yet it felt like yesterday that Peter had spoken to Uncle Ben.

Peter spoke no words, instead wondering what he could've done differently to save not just his Uncle but Gwen as well. He continued to wander around and it was by chance, or dumb luck, that Peter stumbled upon a private funeral. There were only two people; one was the pastor and the other was Harry. Peter wasn't all surprised that Harry was the only attending what was clearly his father's funeral and he contemplated joining. He had no idea what would happen though, so he waited until the casket was lowered into the ground.

Harry, for his part, hardly even registered the presence of Peter in the distance. But then Wilson Fisk arrived at the scene and took stance beside Harry. "My deepest sympathies for your loss, Harry. It's never easy having to bid farewell to a loved one, especially someone who gave so much to his community."

Harry was quiet and said nothing in response, but in his mind he though, Go to Hell, you condescending sack of garbage.

Wilson continued on and stated, "Norman Osborn's passing has left OsCorp with a hole from which it might not fully heal, but I for one can assure you that the company your father built will be in good hands going forward."

Harry finally replied, "Not your hands, Fisk."

Wilson smirked at the boldness from Harry and said, "My sympathies." Then he walked away.

Soon after Fisk departed, so too did the pastor and Harry was left alone to stand over the grave of his father. Peter approached Harry from afar, but he wasn't sure what he was going to say or even if he should've said anything at all. By now, Harry was aware of what his father had become and the heinous acts he'd committed. But what did Harry really know, and what could Peter have possibly said that wouldn't result in Harry lashing out at him? Peter took that chance and was soon a mere couple of feet away from Harry. Harry spotted movement out of the corner of his eyes and turned to see Peter standing behind. Peter managed a small, awkward smile and Harry returned it. The silence was palpable between them and it was entirely understandable.

Finally, Peter said, "Hey Harry!"

"Hey Peter." Harry replied.

Peter took a step closer to Harry where he joined him over the grave. "I'm sorry about your father, buddy. I can only imagine what you're going through right now."

Harry sighed briefly before he stated, "Yeah well, to be honest, I'm not really all that broken up about it."

"Why's that?" Peter asked.

"That headstone should read, HERE LIES THE GREEN GOBLIN. MAY HE ROT IN HELL," Harry exclaimed with an unusually cold tone. "As far as I'm concerned, the man who was my father died years ago."

"That's… that's pretty harsh." Peter said, and he couldn't shake the unease he felt from Harry.

"I'm sorry, Peter. It's just… it's rough, you know? What about you; how're you doing?"

"It's like you said; it's rough. I'm hanging in there though, trying to deal with it all."

Harry understood that, but he couldn't shake off the many questions that sprung up in his mind. "The Goblin killed Gwen, then I find out he's my Dad before he dies. And Spider-Man… he couldn't save either one of them. Why? Why couldn't he save them?"

Peter had no answer as to why Spider-Man, why he, couldn't save them. "I wish I had an answer, Harry. But I don't."

Harry expected as much and with a sigh, he said, "Yeah, I know. Thank God for you and Mary Jane. You guys are… you're the only family I've got left."

Harry drew Peter for an embraced, hugging Peter as if he was his own brother. It seemed appropriate considering the amount of attention Norman once gave to Peter, and at the expense of ignoring Harry. Peter still felt uncomfortable, knowing that he couldn't tell Harry the whole truth of why Gwen and Norman both died seemingly victims of the Green Goblin. Peter returned the gesture anyway, regardless of the general unease in his heart and soul. They eventually broke the embrace and Harry took the moment to leave.

As he did, Peter, "So, what are you going to do now?"

Harry thought for a moment before replying, "I guess I'm going to try and clean up the mess my father left behind. As for the Goblin; I got rid of the gear and the costume, so no one would be able to make the connection. It's all I can do to protect his legacy. What about you?"

Peter simply sighed, "I have no idea."

Harry smirked and placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Well, if you even need me, you know where I live now."

Peter smiled as Harry took his leave. As soon as Harry was away, Peter privately whispered, "I'm sorry."

Three weeks later;

Wilson Fisk waltzed into the OsCorp Industries office building with an air that made him feel as tall as a mountain. No sooner had he arrived that the secretary outside of the main office approached him in turn. In the past, Wilson paid her no mind outside of her looks; African-American in appearance but she often spoke with a British accent. She usually didn't say anymore than a few words and she didn't usually approach him for anything, possibly because Wilson intimidated her. Today was different.

"The meeting has already started, Mr. Fisk." she proclaimed, taking Wilson off guard.

"Meeting," Wilson asked, to which the secretary. "I didn't call for a meeting."

The secretary bowed her head in shame, and Wilson had half a mind to fire her on the spot. He stormed into the main office and swung the double doors wide open. Indeed, there was a meeting in progress. The corporate heads of OsCorp and it's various facilities, who were only moments ago conducting some form of business, all stopped and turned to Wilson. They looked at his as if he was intruding on their territory, all except for the chair at the other end of the conference table. It was turned away as if Dr. Claw occupied it and Fisk was a pale imitation of Inspector Gadget.

"What's going on here? I don't arrange for a meeting of any kind to commence." Wilson claimed, all while masking his annoyance.

"No, you didn't," said a familiar voice from the chair at the end, which then turned to reveal Harry Osborn. "I did."

Wilson was surprised but he didn't dare show it as he approached Harry. Harry in turn, stood up from the chair and displayed the stylish suit and combed back hair. He could've been easily mistaken for his late father if he hadn't been already. The only difference was that Harry was younger. Wilson closed the distance so he was standing face to face with Harry, a calm and cool expression on his face that masked the pent up anger inside. Harry's own expression appeared eerily similar to his father's; pompous and arrogant but confidant.

Wilson finally said, "As I recall, I bought this company from your father right as it was going bankrupt and revitalized it. And now you're here."

"Yes, I am, Fisk, and I haven't forgotten the role you played in my father's downfall." Harry said with a cool and aloof tone.

"You're father's downfall was his own doing, so tell me this; under what circumstances do you think you can claim OsCorp?"

Harry reached his hand out and one of the board members handed him a piece of paper. "These are the circumstances; my father's last will which states that in the event of his sudden passing, his next of kin, which is me, is next in line to take the reins of the company. The short of it is, I own OsCorp Industries now and you are trespassing."

Wilson wasn't hiding his anger now and drew closer to Harry's face. "You think you have what it takes to run OsCorp. You haven't the slight idea how to…"

"We can do this one of two, Fisk; eight I can security escort you out of the building peacefully, or I can have thrown out the window. Your call." Harry stated.

Wilson wanted to rip Harry's head off right in front of the board members, but he stayed his wrath since it would likely expose his other moniker. Harry knew that. "Well played, young man. I'll take my leave for now, but I promise that I will be watching as you run the company your father built right into the ground."

"Not if you're in the ground first… Kingpin." Harry whispered so only Wilson could hear him.

Beaten, Wilson Fisk gathered himself and departed from the boardroom. Good day, ladies and gentlemen, and good luck. You'll need it." Then he was out of the boardroom.

Harry smirked a satisfied expression before returning to his seat, feeling for the first time as if he was on top of the world. "Now that that's out of the way, it's time to get back to business and clean up the mess my father left behind. OsCorp is out of the chemical warfare business, so if anyone has any alternatives, let's hear it."

There was a moment of silence, as if the board had all their tongues cut out. Then a lone individual reached him arm. "If I may, Mr. Osborn; since you've the company is out of the chemical warfare business, perhaps it apply the use of more practical means. Perhaps, the use of robotics for example…"

Harry considered the idea and called out, "Robotics? That sounds interesting, mister…"

The man in question, as it turned out, was confined to a wheelchair and rolled away from the table. He approached Harry from the far end so they were face to face. "Smythe, sir. Alistair Smythe."

Harry perked his eyebrows before leaning forward and clasping his hands together. "Alright, Mr. Smythe. What did you have in mind?"

Wilson Fisk left the building and entered his waiting limo amid a sea of those annoying news crews, even brushing passed Whintey Chang without giving her a chance to ask a question. In his limo, Wilson seethed over how the young wayward son of Norman Osborn had beat him to the punch so to speak. But he suddenly had no time to ponder his next move. A three-pronged weapon was tipping against his throat. He looked and found Elektra seating across from him.

"You survived the Goblin's attack, and unscathed. Impressive." Wilson said without showing fear.

"You of all people should know how difficult I am to kill, Kingpin," Elektra stated and leaned foward. "Silvermane and Mister Negative; they have a score to settle with you."

Wilson could do nothing other than sit still as the limo drove off.

Peter had a suitcase laid out on his bed, and inside of it was his costume. It was completely fixed and patched up from the battles he'd endured with the Green Goblin, but he had no intention to wear it ever again. A couple of paperweights were laid out next to the case, and Peter had every intention to do what he felt should've been done years ago. He was going to take the case and toss it into the Hudson River, thus signaling his retirement in the superhero business. Who really needed Spider-Man anyway? The world had the Avengers, the Fantastic Four and the X-Men. The world could probably get by with Captain Kangaroo if need be. Peter was done being Spider-Man and this was the only way.

"Peter, you here?" MJ was heard calling from the living room, and Peter closed the suitcase.

"I'm here, MJ." he replied, and Mary Jane arrived as soon as she heard him.

Mary Jane was smiling slightly, as if she tried putting on a happy face for him. "Hey Tiger," she said before she spotted the suitcase. "You moving out?"

"I'm just getting rid of some old hand-me-downs. Something tells I'm not going to need them anymore."

Mary Jane perked her brows before she sat on the bed. Peter sat down beside her. "You okay? I know the past few weeks have pretty rough since the funeral."

"I'm fine. I'm doing okay." Peter claimed, but he was lying and MJ knew it.

"Peter…"

Peter was hurting inside and couldn't hide it, rubbing his eyes as if to wipe away exhaustion. "I miss her, Mary Jane. We spent a night here, one night in this bed together. It was best night of my life, of our lives. And now, she's gone. I don't see how I could possibly live without her."

"I don't have any magic words for you, Peter; guess that's kind of a first for me."

Peter couldn't help but crack a small smile. "Yeah, that is a first. Thanks for stopping over to check on me; I appreciate it."

"It's the least I can do," Mary Jane then leaned to the side and gave Peter a small kiss on the cheek before she rose from the bed. She stopped and reached into her pocket. "I almost forgot; Gwen wanted me to give this to you. It's dated the day she… was supposed to fly to London, which she ultimately didn't."

Peter took the small piece of paper from Mary Jane. "You couldn't give it to me sooner, I guess?"

"I was too busy bringing Gwen back to you," MJ stated and started to leave. Then she turned back and said, "Take care of yourself, Peter."

Peter nodded as Mary Jane left the room. Alone with his thoughts and tapping the edge of the paper to his fingers, he opened the paper to reveal the contents of handwriting. Peter instantly recognized the handwriting to be Gwen's, and he soon took interest in what was written down.

(Peter, by the time you read this, I'll be on my way to a new life in London. Looking back at my life, I don't have a lot of regrets. I've had so many close friends, had so many wonderful memories that I'll carry with me until the end of time. The most important memories involve you. In recent weeks, I've come to understand the burden of responsibility you have to protect New York and its people. I didn't support at the time, but I understand now. The city… needs Spider-Man more than anything and if it means that we need to be apart, then so be it. I wish that things could be different, but I understand and more than ever, I love you for what you do and who you are… who you were born to be. I ask only this of you; never stop fighting for those who believe in you. Know that no matter what happens going forward, I have faith in you and I will always be with you.

New York will always have a hero in Spider-Man, but Peter Parker will always be my hero.

Love now and forever more:

Gwen.)

Reading the letter brought Peter to tears as he turned the letter around. He hadn't noticed it before, the letter was written on the back of a photograph of Peter and Gwen together. They were smiling and clearly having fun. Peter was choked up by and couldn't hold the tears back no how hard he fought them. At the same time, he was smiling at the photograph as it brought him to a better place than he was in weeks ago. It proved one thing to be true from the letter; Gwen was always going to be with him. Another thing was proven; Peter was always going to be Gwen's hero. That prompted Peter to open the suitcase and remove the brick inside. He studied the costume that only a few minutes ago he'd intended to throw into the Hudson River.

Peter took the mask from the case and looked into the eyepieces as if they were staring back at him. His thoughts flashed back to the moments that he shared with Gwen, the good and the bad, the trials and the tribulations. Peter remembered the moments of Gwen smiling and laughing with him. He remembered the time she was with him after Uncle Ben died, and he was with her after her father died. He also remembered the one night they spent together; that one, perfect moment when they were as one. In that moment, Peter came to realize what he had to do… what he was born to do.

With great power comes great responsibility… those were the words Uncle Ben told me. Only now do I truly understand the meaning behind them.

We all experience a turning point in our lives. Those moments can either break us down or make us stronger. For me, it was both. When I lost Uncle Ben, I was consumed with guilt. Then I made a vow to never turn away from those in need. When I lost Gwen Stacy, the love of my life, I wanted to walk away. But, instead, I'm inspired to fight on. I have made a new vow; to fight for her, for her memory and for her father's memory and for Uncle Ben. I'll fight for Harry, for Mary Jane, for Aunt May… those who are most dear to me. I even fight for Norman, if only to remember the good man he might have been.

Sitting atop a stone gargoyle and wearing the costume that has become part of me, part of who I was meant to be, I look out across the city I've dedicated my life to protect. I've come so far, lost so much, but knowing that she's going to be with me is all I need to keep going. Then I hear the sounds of sirens off in the distance, and I know that I'm needed. I stand, I hold the mask in my hands. There's some reluctance, but I know I'm needed.

"This is for you, Gwen." I say aloud.

So, I put on the mask and leap from the gargoyle, diving straight down toward the city that is my playground. I shoot a web line and swing up, using another line to stay in motion. There's no feeling like swinging across Manhattan, giving hope to those who look up to catch a glimpse of their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Through it all, I remember that know matter what happens going forward, the memory of a beautiful woman named Gwen Stacy will always be with me.

Thank you… Gwen Stacy.

Author's note: After a year of painstaking work, distractions, procrastinating and that evil, evil, EVIL WRITER'S BLOCK, this story is finally completed. As I said before, a voice cast chapter will be following shortly so stayed tuned. Do not forget to review, of course.