"Caught in the Web of the Spider."

I blushed, "P-Peter, I think you're wife is hitting on me."

Peter chuckled, "don't get cocky kid. She's mine, get your own."

MJ rolled her eyes, "you both are exactly the same."

I smiled, thought slowly it melted away. I sighed, "look….I just can't anymore. I used to say to myself that the reason I fought was to protect people. But then...Doom nearly killed and I couldn't stand the sight of the costume. I just….I just can't is all."

Peter nodded, "I understand Peter...come on, I'll show you where you can stay." I followed him, waving MJ goodnight.

Peter showed me to the attic, lucky for me they still maintained the place, even if no one lived there. We spoke for a while, he was curious about my life. And then, he wished me a good night and closed the attic door behind him.

I sat on the bed and looked around. There were several neatly sealed boxes pushed onto one corner and a table with an old computer and a chemistry set. It looked like...something I would use...no, not me. Peter Parker.

I walked up to the table and looked the instruments over, they each had the stain of chemicals on their glass walls, each a visibly different cover. This must be where Pater made his web fluids, strange, it all seems so...complicated.

I then noticed a trunk under the table, it was unmarked, unlike every other box in this damn attic this one was locked. Luckily for me, my metal manipulation allowed me to be a great lockpicker.

I pulled the trunk out and grabbed the lock, feeling it's metallic components in it's structure, using my powers to open it up with a quick snap. I took the lock out and threw the truck open, revealing a red and blue costume that looked awfully familiar.

I picked it up and looked at it under the attic night light. It was old, and covered with stitches. Whoever stitched it knew what they were doing, they made it in such a way the stitches matched the way the webs moved, making it a part of the costume.

As I pulled the costume out I noticed two metallic bracelets underneath it along with various other toys and gadgets. These were his gear, his tools. I bent down and picked up the mask underneath it all, and out came the classic red mask with sharp glass eyes that seemed to be both serious and charming at the same time.

"I see it didn't take you long to stick your nose where it doesn't belong," I turned to see Peter leaning besides the wall with a smile on his face and blankets tucked under his arms.

"I'm you, technically it's mine," I responded.

"And I thought you said you wouldn't pick up the costume ever again," he chuckled as he placed the sheets on the bed, "here, I thought you would need it."

"Thanks," I put the costume away and shut the trunk before kicking it under the table, "sorry."

"You can use it if you want," he told me with a shrug, "I'm not using it and May has her own costume, so I wouldn't mind. Thing needs to be worn, not thrown away and hidden like a shameful secret."

I sat down on the bed, "why...why did you stop?" I asked him.

He looked me over and sighed, sitting down next to me, "May told me in your world you don't have a Green Goblin, yes?"

I nodded, "yeah but...I mean I just started. I have only been Spider-man for around a year."

"So you might face him one day," Peter sighed, "he was….he is my greatest enemy. He's a genius that acts the fool so that you would underestimate him before he split your head open like a coconut. He...he was a monster."

"Did you kill him?" I asked.

Peter looked at me, "yes….I did."

I looked down at the trunk, "is that why you gave it up? Guilt?"

"No, no, I dealt with the guilt a long time ago. Spider-man was a responsibility I had...but then I came upon an even bigger responsibility and soon the risks just didn't seem to be worth it."

"And what was this new responsibility?" I asked.

He smiled as he walked away, "being a parent….But for you...you have a responsibility towards the power you possess. That costume means something to people, not just you. Think about that. I'll see you tomorrow Peter," he shut the door behind him.

He might be broken physically, but I can see the same spark that dove me to jump around and save people's lives inside him, even now.

Was this the difference between the real Peter Parker and me? The guy who refused to give up and a cheap imitation? Maybe, but then again, I never never had any business taking on that title did I?

But as I slept away that night Peter's words haunted me, 'anything that is broken, can be fixed.' It was strange, that was almost exactly what Charles told me word for word.

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