New Suspect in Eight Year Long Cold Case!

It had felt like the longest day of my life. Two police officers had questioned me for two hours or something, probably longer, definitely longer. Then they brought me in the next day for more questioning. I missed school two days in a row because of this. They at least had the decency to drive me home.

The trial was set for a couple of weeks away. They had arrested Mr Grant, and a substitute put in his place. Things were getting better.

Even if my grades were suffering.

I walked into the school library, knowing full well that school was already over, and my absence might have been noticed. I couldn't care. I wanted to see Peter.

I sat down in my usual spot, heaving some of my textbooks out of my bag along with my pens. I opened my maths book and did my homework.

"Wade? Where have you been? I haven't seen you in two days," Peter asked, voice thick with concern as he floated through the desk.

I waved a hand, "I'm ok! I just went to the police, and they questioned me for a bit. It's all good!"

He untensed, the frown that was permanently on his face softening. "Good, I was worried something bad had happened to you. You will not believe some rumours I've heard today."

I leaned forward, "Which was the best?"

"Probably that you ran away to go live with your secret boyfriend," he answered, folding his legs under him. Even though he was floating and we both knew he wasn't actually touching anything, he was still pretending he could and was sitting on it.

I let out a full body laugh, my stomach aching from the force of it. "Me?" I chuckled, wiping a tear away, "having a boyfriend? With this face?"

He frowned at me, "Your face is fine. You're just bald and a bit scarred. It adds… flavour!" He immediately cringed.

"Flavour? Ah yes, me, chicken flavouring of the highest quality. Fake but oh so delicious," I joked.

"You know what I mean! It makes you look pretty, ok?" His face immediately went scarlet red as I laughed even harder.

Clutching my stomach I managed to catch my breath. Peter folded his arms and turned his embarrassment into annoyance.

"I'll have you know that you are handsome. Have you seen your muscles? Work them!" he demanded.

"Me? Muscles? You're dreaming! The only exercise I do is biking."

"Fine! Your thigh muscles are great, and you have really broad shoulders and it's attractive. I didn't exercise at all when I was alive! I looked like a twig," he grumbled.

I looked him up and down, smirking, "I can see that."

He used some energy to throw a book at me, causing me to laugh. There was no way I was going to get any work done today.

And I was totally okay with that.

(971) 723-4940: Hello! I'm Peter Parker's Aunt. I've heard how you believe you've solved his case. I would like to talk to you if you're available? I heard there's a nice coffee shop, would you like to meet me there?

(971) 723-4940: :link attached:

Me: I think that's too far for me to bike

Me: when were you thinking?

Me: also, hi! Nice to meet you!

Peter's Aunt: I was hoping to meet as soon as possible, in the next couple of days if possible. Would it be ok if I pick you up from school to take you there? I can talk to your parents if you need permission.

Me: they won't care. I'd be happy to meet you after school if that's what you want to do

Peter's Aunt: Yes, please. East Bridge High School?

Me: Yep! See you at 3:30

Peter and I hung around the office stiffly. We were waiting for his Aunt. I didn't really know why she wanted to meet me, but it was fine. It might be cool to meet her. I just hoped she was fine.

When I had told Peter he had been adamant about coming. Would not take no for an answer, if I had tried. Which I hadn't.

He deserved this.

The office had been the best place to meet her. Peter was at the edge of his 'playable' area here but we could still see the road.

"You think she'll be able to see you?" I asked quietly, glad that no one but us were around.

Peter turned to look at me, a frown on his face. "No? I… I guess I haven't thought about that." His eyes went wider and he rubbed at his face. "Oh no, what if she can?!"

"Woah, it's okay," I said quickly, taking a step in front of him. "Would it really be that bad if she could?"

Peter focused back on me. I barely kept back my sigh of relief. "No… I would like to get to properly say goodbye…"

"Then think of it like that. You'll get to see her anyway, but if she can see you then… well, maybe you'll even be able to hug her. Wait! Have you ever tried being here around someone who can't see you?"

Peter frowned again. "I… whenever I did I made sure no one was paying attention…"

"So maybe try that when we see her, I mean- if she can't see you."

We were interrupted as a car pulled into the office parking lot. An old lady stepped out of the small blue ford. I glanced over at Peter. His eyes were wide and red. Yep, definitely her.

I quickly jogged up to meet her.

"Hi! Peter's Aunt, right?" I said with a smile.

She smiled right back, "Wade Wilson? Thank for agreeing to see me, I really appreciate it. And just call me May, dear."

Before I could say anything, we were interrupted by Peter crying out, "Aunt May?!"

May froze, eyes looking over to where Peter was. She could… She could see him! I froze, my eyes flicking between the two. What do I do, what do I do?!

"You can see him too?" I asked quietly, slowly reaching forward and loosely gripping her arm.

She wiped at her face, her voice sniffly, "I'm not seeing things? Why is he here? I thought they had discovered his-..."

"Yeah, they did. That's him, but he's a ghost. Only some people can see him for some reason…" I explained. I stepped in Peter's direction. "He really wants to see you."

She nodded, squaring herself up and then walked with me towards him.

When I dared to look at Peter's face… disbelief? Joy? Nervousness? He looked almost scared. He seemed to be frozen in place, like he was seeing a ghost. Tears were streaming down his face.

The moment Aunt May reached him I saw him struggle to make himself corporal when they hugged. Even from my position, a few feet away, I could hear both of them quietly sobbing. Peter was whispering 'I'm sorry' like a chant, May shook her head over and over.

I turned away, patiently waiting. Peter deserved this, so did May. I didn't interrupt them - this wasn't about me. It was always about Peter and May, even if I hadn't realised it.

I hated the curling tendril of jealousy wrapping itself around me. He had a good family, he deserved this. I shouldn't want to be the one hugging either of them.

I folded my arms and looked down at my feet. How dare I even want it.

"I'm sorry Aunt May, I can't keep this form much longer…" Peter whispered, sweat beading down his face as he somehow managed to keep himself visible as he talked.

She stepped back, arms going back down to her side as he went ghost again. She grabbed a hanky out from a pocket and wiped at her face. She had a huge smile on her face.

"I never thought I would get a chance to say how much I love you, this is better than anything I could wish for. I don't care if you're a ghost." She said firmly but reassuringly.

He nodded, shuffling his feet. "I love you so much. I'm sorry I left you behind."

"Stop that talk right this instant young man. If what I've heard is right, you were murdered by that awful teacher. No one can blame you."

"But I left you behind! Uncle Ben died and then me? It's not fair on you!" He hissed, his voice becoming thick with mucus.

"Life isn't fair, Peter. This old girl survived." She said, her smile taking a strain. "You being here, able to tell me that life isn't fair, is a blessing. I love you so much, Peter."

He smiled, "I love you too. I'm glad you can see me…"

She nodded, took a deep breath then turned to me. "Sorry you had to see that Wade. I can't thank you enough for reuniting us."

I shrugged, the guilt for my feelings rising ever higher. I struggled to smile. "It's ok. You guys deserve this."

She frowned at me, pausing a moment before coming up and standing in front of me. Before I could ask what she was doing she had wrapped her arms around me.

"You are so brave. I can't thank you enough." She stepped back but kept her hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. I struggled to keep eye contact. "Not everyone would have done this. I wish there was a way I could repay you."

I laughed, it coming out more strained and snottier than I wanted. "It's okay, really. I wish I could have done more."

She frowned, but whatever was making her hesitate went away. She let go and turned to face Peter. "I noticed you wouldn't come any closer?"

He sighed, "Yeah, it's like there's an," he waved his arms around, trying to explain it but failing, "invisible barrier or something. I would go with you to the coffee shop, but I can't…"

She smiled at the two of us, "That's ok, I'm sure we can work with that. You can go to the field, can't you?"

He frowned and nodded slowly, confusion written all over his face. I already knew where she was going to go with this, so I picked up my bag from where I had left it. My bike wasn't all that far away, I would be fine to ride back home.

"I'm retired, I don't have much to do anyway. Why don't we relax on the field and talk? I would like to know what you've been up to all these years." I took a step towards my bike but immediately froze as May continued. "You too, Wade. We might not be going to a coffee shop anymore, but I would still like to get to know you."

Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, I nodded and looked down at my feet.

She smiled kindly at me, "It's up to you of course."

"I'd… like that. Thank you." I murmured.

Wilson Fisk Sentenced To Life in Prison

Wilson Grant Fisk, a teacher at East Bridge High School, was today sentenced to life in prison for the murder of Peter Benjamin Parker. This came as new evidence emerged with the help of Wade Winston Wilson - a current student at the school.

Eight years ago it was believed that Peter Parker had run away, his case going cold with no suspects. A few weeks ago Wade Wilson came forward with the location of his remains and surveillance tapes that had been lost revealing the last known footage of him alive.

"We are devastated that we had a murderer in our community for so long," Principal Johnson said when questioned, "Peter had been a prized member of our school and we're grateful we finally have closure."

Wade Wilson and Wilson Fisk's lawyers both refused to comment.

I drummed my fingers against my thigh, itching to get my restless energy out but I knew if I got on my bike to try and get back to school I might be…

I didn't want to think that I might be too late, but I knew that everything relied on me getting there as quickly as possible.

"Are we there yet?" I asked the police officer. My parents had claimed they couldn't drive me, because of course they had. But I was an important enough witness that they had policemen take me to and from the courtroom.

I wasn't complaining, in any case.

"Not long now. Why do you even want to go to your school kid?" He asked me. I hadn't caught his name when I had gotten in and at this point it seemed too late to ask.

"I forget some homework in my locker," I lied, struggling to keep my anxiousness from bleeding into my voice.

He nodded, either not caring enough to notice my lie or genuinely not caring at all. In any case, he kept his eyes firmly locked on the road. I drummed my fingers quicker, resisting the urge to jiggle my leg.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he pulled up into the parking lot. I thanked him as I shot out of the door, slamming it shut behind me.

Peter's area of free movement had been shrinking with each passing day. First, it had been just a few feet. Then some more. On one notable day, it had shrunken by a whole yard. I had the feeling I might have to go into the basement to say goodbye.

If he wasn't already gone.

But that wasn't the only thing. He kept becoming harder to see; fading away. It was like with every new discovery he got weaker, every day spent on the trial - getting closer to prosecuting Mr Grant - made him lose energy.

Naturally, I knew it was inevitable. I knew this would happen from the start. But the thought of never seeing him again made me…

I was...

I was happy for him, that he finally got to pass on.

I was happy… for him.

I skidded around corridors, nearly knocking a janitor over in the process who yelled at me to stop running in the halls. I completely ignored him as I finally reached the basement door.

Still no Peter.

I fumbled for my bobby pin. It took just too long to break into the basement even though I knew it was the fastest I had ever broken into somewhere before.

I didn't even care about the rotting floors this time. I thundered down, hearing wood cracking behind me. "Peter?!"

If I hadn't been hoping so desperately to hear something, I wouldn't have heard him. It was no louder than a mouse. "I'm here!

I went around the corner to find him close to being over where his remains had been. He was so faint that I could only see an outline of him.

I skidded to a stop in front of him.

I thought I had figured out what to say to him, how to say goodbye, how to thank him for keeping me company even though I was so annoying, how I was glad I had had the chance to know him, for him being my friend…

But just looking at him like this...

Too still, barely there, hands shaking, face a mess, struggling to lift a hand up to beacon me over...

I burst into tears.

Peter floated over, his movements weak and slow. Through my blurry eyes, I watched him make himself physically there before he wrapped his arms around me.

He was ice cold. I felt impossibly warm in comparison. His skin felt clammy and dusty, like if I hugged him too tight he would explode into small pieces.

"Thank you," he murmured into my ear, resting his chin on my shoulder and sagging as if he was being rapidly drained of energy. I could barely hear him over my sobs. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

That wasn't true! He should have had someone else before me, anyone else before me. I was just one in a million.

"You've done so much for me. I can't believe you actually did it." Peter whispered, his voice breathless like he had run a marathon.

"He's behind bars. A life sentence without parole. He will never hurt anyone again." I said. For my benefit or his… I didn't know. It was just a fact now.

"You are an actual madman," both of us giggled, hysterically, "I've watched that man for eight years and he's like if Darth Vader got fat and a serious attitude."

I hugged him tighter, clenching the fabric of his hoodie in my hand. "You nerd. I should have known you watched Star Wars."

"You got me, I've watched it hundreds of times. I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

I hummed lightly. The silence stretched out between us. I could feel him falling apart bit by bit, blinking in and out, struggling to stay here. I tried not to think about it too hard.

"I'm sorry I'm leaving," Peter whispered into my ear. I felt the small weight of him disappear for a few long seconds before he came back. "I don't want to go… You're one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I can't even stay with you." He sniffled, voice clenching up and I could feel his face scrunching up as he leaned his head on my shoulder. "You deserve so much better. I'm so sorry!" The grip he had on my clothes tightened, the start of sobs bubbling up in his throat.

"It's okay," I managed to get out, throat so tight I'm sure my voice was just a rambling mess. "It's okay, it's okay. You deserve to move on. I'm sorry I couldn't have done more. I don't deserve you."

Peter leaned back, forcing me to look him in the eye. My vision cleared enough to see his face when several tears finally spilled over, staining a trail.

Peter wiped away my tears. His skin left a trail of clammy skin, like it was made of flour. "You deserve everything life can offer." He huffed a wet laugh. "For all your talk, telling me to be selfish for once, you're the one who needs to learn it the most."

His form wavered, blinking rapidly. I looked at him in alarm, but he just seemed resigned, giving me a small smile. "Thank you, Wade."

"Don't start, don't tell me goodbye you asshole-"

Peter interrupted me, a stern look keeping me quiet. It was kind of diminished by how red his face was, how watery his eyes were. "Look after Aunt May for me, will you? You guys deserve each other."

I wrapped him up in a hug, a vain attempt to get him to stay longer. I felt him dusting away like ash.

"I love you, Wade,"

And then I was hugging air.

On the tip of my tongue was a goodbye.

The bright day, sunny with not a cloud in sight, didn't match the swirling emotions in me.

It should be raining as in every movie funeral in existence… but it wasn't. That felt unfair for a reason I didn't even know. Maybe it was because I felt the world was moving on from his death too fast, another story for the newspaper. It should have been sadder.

But life had moved on. Peter had been dead eight years already. My time with him was nothing.

The suit I was wearing felt too stifling and unnatural to me. Too… expensive. Even though it came from a rental shop. I wasn't used to the way it wrapped around me and made me look like I was… him. I hated it.

More people than I thought possible had turned up for his funeral. The school had turned up, everyone wanting to know more about the kid murdered at some random school in the middle of nowhere. The local newspaper was here too, cameras filming us from the sideline. There were some older people around too that I assumed were previous classmates of his. There were also some old, old people who had probably come along to support May.

I had seen May at various points of the day. When the formal ceremony was going on, she had somehow talked to the audience without crying. Maybe it was because so much time had passed that she had had the opportunity to grieve and move on already.

A part of me wished I could talk and express how much I missed Peter… but they would see me as insane. I had never met him before. The only other person in the room who knew was May. If I did say anything it would be about how I solved his case.

And if I was honest, I was tired of all the fame I had gotten already. It was Peter who had helped me solve his murder and I couldn't even acknowledge his help.

So I sat silently through the whole service, all the way up until they placed his coffin in the hole.

I still wished it was raining.

My muscles were aching by the time it was only me and May left, sitting by his grave. Turns out, standing for a very long time in a stiff position lead to an aching body. Who knew?

We had filled the hole and his gravestone stood there accusingly. Staring at me. There was no picture of him on it.

I missed him.

I missed him with a fierce ache.

"Wade?" May whispered, as if speaking would break the tension in the air.

I looked over. I didn't have the energy to reply.

"I… I got to say goodbye the day before the prosecution. He… told me to look after you. That… he didn't think you had a good family-" she started quietly.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine." I was quick to interrupt.

She frowned, clearly seeing through my assurances. "Wade, it's okay to be upset, to not be okay. Look, you don't have to take up my offer. But… my home is always open to you."

"Always?" I whispered, studying the ground. I couldn't bring myself to look in her eyes. I didn't want to know what I would find.

She put a hand on my shoulder, reluctantly I looked up. She had an almost fierce look of determination on her face, even as her eyes told a different story. They seemed so… lonely...

"Always."

I let myself smile, a tension draining out of me that I didn't know I had. It… wasn't selfish if I stayed with her to look after her. Peter had said he wanted us to look after each other…

Maybe I should be more selfish, just like he said…

"Then… yes, please. I would like that." I whispered, like it was a secret.

Then she hugged me, making me tense up instinctively. But a few seconds later, I managed to untense enough to relax. It was so… warm and compassionate. Genuine.

It was like Peter's.

When I got my report card from my teachers, I waited until I was home to open it.

When I opened it up, I was shocked to find how much higher my grades were from last years. From the year before that. From any year of school I had ever gotten a report card on.

I had done well.

My maths results were the highest they had ever been.

I put it on Aunt May's fridge with pride.