Miles had to get out of the house for awhile. He really had nowhere to go, but it wasn't bad to just walk.

Something caught his eye as he passed an alleyway. Backing up, he dared take a second look. He wished he hadn't.

A teenage boy, probably not too much older than Miles himself, swung from a rope. Upon closer inspection, it didn't look much like a rope. It looked like…one of Spider-Man's webs!

Holy crap, Miles thought, looking around for the city's famous, much-hated guardian. Spider-Man murdered someone. The thought was quickly dismissed however, when he spotted the familiar red-and-blue uniform. In the trash.

He rushed to it and looked up.

That was Spider-Man up there. Spider-Man had hung himself.

Miles felt hot tears rushing to his eyes. He had looked up to the masked hero. The guy had been a role model, doing right in the face of opposition. It had never seemed to get him down, but apparently, it had.

He guessed even superheroes had their vulnerabilities. Sometimes, they could not even save themselves.

Once he finally calmed down, he looked back up at the once-glorious young man, looking so human, so real, not at all like his larger-than-life persona of Spider-Man. He was too high up for Miles to cut down. Miles knew he needed help, but he couldn't call the cops. They wouldn't treat the fallen hero with the respect he deserved.

He had to do something, and fast. He had no clue how long Spidey had been up there, and he didn't want anyone else finding him and mistreating him. He got an idea. It was crazy, kind of gross, and just felt wrong, but it was the best thing he could think of at the time. Slowly at first, he made his way back to the trash can with the suit in it and picked up the discarded fabric. His touch was so careful, he felt like he was handling some kind of delicate artifact, but he had to hurry. He put it on.

He felt so different once he pulled the mask over his face, yet so much the same. He felt he didn't belong in this suit, and to be honest, he didn't, but he felt empowered, as if the suit itself radiated with Spider-Man's unique abilities. Sadly, it didn't. He was still just Miles, in a dead superhero's costume. Still, he would do what he could to help his hero. This suit would see one last heroic act, even if it was just to make sure that the body of its former owner was properly handled.

Now, maybe if he could find another superhero, someone who had been friends with Spider-Man, they could help. It was hard to think of someone, but he remembered seeing Spidey with some of the X-Men on TV a couple of times before. He just had to find the X-Men.

He pressed his middle fingers back towards his palm in the way that Spidey always did, and was surprised to see webs shoot out. He tried the other hand. Nothing. Spider-Man must have used whatever was in that arm of the suit to…he couldn't finish the thought. It was too much.

Still, he decided it was probably best not to try and swing through the city like Spider-Man used to do. He had no idea how to handle himself like the hero had, so he walked, keeping to the shadows and alleyways. He didn't really want to get stopped on the street in this costume.

Fortune was in his favor, it seemed. It wasn't long at all until he spied a villain he had seen Spidey send to jail on television. He must have broken out. Fear rose up in him, but he straightened his posture and closed in. At least this one was one of the lesser opponents Spider-Man had fought.

"Hey!" Miles called, sounding much more confident than he felt.

The guy jumped and turned around. "I wasn't doin' nothin' wrong! I promise! I gone straight now, ya see?" He pulled a Bible out of his pocket and held it up. "I got out on good behavior! I turned my life around! I'm a new man!"

"Then what are you doing here?" Miles asked. He would take the guy at his word. Miles wasn't ready for a fight.

The guy stepped to the side to reveal a cart of canned goods, sack lunches, toiletries, blankets, and clothes. "I'm on a ministry to the homeless." He seemed quite proud. "We been taken donations at the church down the street, and I'm going out handin' out goodies." He smiled, showing rotten teeth.

"All right. I'll believe you, but if I get wind of you acting up again, it's back to the slammer for you!" Miles hoped he sounded tougher than he thought he did. The threat was empty of course. Spider-Man was dead, but he had to keep up the façade. He pretended to turn to go, but turned back. "One last thing, you know where the X-Men are?"

The man paled when the X-Men were mentioned. He had crossed them once before as well. Then, he'd had armor and technology provided by a very high-profile client that had made him more of a match for superhumans, but now, he was just an ordinary man. "They-they made me promise not to tell." He'd broken into their home for his client, and he'd been made to regret that decision.

"You think you'll be in trouble with them if you tell," Miles carefully aimed his wrist and bent his fingers back. The web went horribly awry, missing the man and instead attaching itself to the Dumpster close by. Oh well, he could make it work. "You'll be in more trouble with me if you don't. I'll swing this Dumpster around and see how you hold up against it." Okay, so maybe Spider-Man wouldn't have made that threat to an unarmed guy, but then again, maybe he would have. Miles had no idea. He was just doing the best he could.

The reformed villain broke out into a sweat, his eyes darting to the Dumpster. "They live at that school in Westchester! Xavier's School or something'! Please don't tell 'em I told you!"

Miles released the web. "Deal. But if you lied, I'll be back." He turned to go.

"Hey!" He heard the guy call him once he was a little ways away. "You ain't the real Spider-Man, are ya? He woulda swung away! Who are you?" The man broke into a run after him. "Come to think of it, you don't sound like him, and that suit don't fit you right!"

Miles looked back. The guy was gaining fast. Only one thing to do. He lifted a hand and hoped the web would catch. It did, and he was jerked up into the air, a scream of terror and elation erupting from his lungs.

He swung away, but he caught himself on a fire escape, nearly smacking into a wall as he tried to stop himself. Carefully, he climbed down, changed back into his street clothes, and caught a bus to Westchester.

He made good time getting to the school, and he pulled on the suit once more, hoping it would get the X-Men's attention.

The school was amazing, or what he could see of it. It was a huge mansion, almost like a castle, and surrounded by a brick wall with iron gates. He pressed the buzzer, and the gates swung open.

"Who is it?" Jean Grey-Summers asked her long-time sweetheart and husband Scott Summers.

"It's just Peter. Probably here to see Alex." Scott answered. He had been closest to their security system when he heard the buzzer ring. A quick check of the security camera monitor confirmed who was at their gate, and Scott only assumed Peter was here to visit his younger brother, who went to NYU with Peter and had become good friends with the young man. Scott was glad too. Peter was probably the most responsible of Alex's friends, and he was a good influence on Alex.

Scott went to get the door for Peter. "Hey, Peter. Here to see Alex?" He asked with an easy smile. Peter was no X-Man, but he was easily accepted by them. He was different too, a mutant in his own way, and a lot of the younger members of the team were friends with him as well. Alex was probably the closest to Peter out of all of them, having been lab partners their first semester of NYU and bonding over a mutual love of science and learning. The two had had so much in common, they became instant friends.

Whoa, Miles thought to himself, marveling at being this close to an X-Man. He looked kind of…weird without his costume. As with Spider-Man, it was just shocking to see them looking normal and human. I bet this is Cyclops. Gotta be with the glasses and all. He managed to shake his star-stricken haze enough to speak. "Excuse me sir, but I need help." He pulled off his mask. Fear pricked his spine and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when Cyclops took up a defensive stance, his hand automatically going to his glasses, which now glowed red.

"Who are you? Where's Spider-Man?" Scott asked, fearing the worst. Jean, come here quick. He thought as loud as he could. A telepath would be helpful right about now.

Miles felt himself choking up again and tears welling up in his eyes. "I…I need help. I found him, and I couldn't help him."

Jean was lightning-quick in her response, rushing to help her lover. "Who is this?" She jutted out her jaw and repositioned her head, eyeing Miles. She scanned his mind immediately.

Though Miles was stricken with grief and over-whelming emotion once more over Spidey's horrific demise, he couldn't help but be a little awed by the presence of another X-Man. Judging by the red hair, he was guessing Marvel Girl. He swallowed his tears to speak. "My name is Miles Morales. I'm sorry to come here like this, but I didn't know what else to do."

Jean gasped, gleaning the information, the image of Peter's lifeless body swinging in the breeze from Miles's mind before he could even tell her. Her own eyes filled with tears. "Scott," she whispered. "Peter. He's dead."

Had she just read his mind? He didn't know whether to be awed or afraid. Still, Miles couldn't help but notice how they called Spider-Man by his real name. Peter. His name was Peter. It made him so much more real, and his death all the more tragic. He had friends who cared about him. Did he have family? A wife? Girlfriend? Kids, even? Sure he was a bit young-looking, but it was possible. Peter had had a life outside of being Spider-Man, and now all of it was gone.

Scott visibly reacted. "Who killed him?" He asked tersely.

"He hung himself, Scott. With his own web." Jean answered.

"I don't believe that. Peter wouldn't do such a thing." Scott's glasses were glowing again, this time from both anger and grief. Peter had been such a bright, good-hearted young man. The world needed more people like him, but instead, they lost him. The world had been too much for him, but Scott refused to believe it. "Someone must have set it up, made it look like a suicide. He had too much to live for."

"I found the suit in the trash." Miles offered. "I put it on hoping I could find someone who could help. I remembered that Spider-Peter," it felt wrong using the name. He hadn't known Peter like they had. "Worked with you guys a couple of times, so I scared a criminal into telling me where you lived. I'm sorry, but I didn't want to call the cops. They wouldn't have been good to him." A few tears dropped from his cheeks. "He was my hero."

"Who told you where we were?" Scott asked. Even in such tragic times, he had to be the dutiful leader and look out for his team.

"I-I don't know his name. I found him in an alleyway. He said he had changed, that he was giving out donations to the homeless. I recognized him from TV." Miles admitted.

"It's fine, Scott. I know who he's talking about." Jean put a hand on her husband's shoulder. "I don't think we have to worry, but we need to go get Peter's body down before somebody else finds it."

Scott nodded. "I'll go."

"No, you need to stay and break the news to everyone else. We need to get there fast, anyway. I'll get Kurt." Jean suggested.

"Are you sure he can take it?" Kurt was younger than Peter was, and he was friends with the other wall-crawler. Apparently, a love of climbing and swinging on things had been enough for the two to forge a friendship, but then again, Kurt liked to be friends with anyone who would take him.

"He'll have to. It's part of the job." Jean mentally summoned Nightcrawler, as well as Beast, and Professor Xavier.

Kurt bamfed in, followed quickly by Hank and Charles. "You rang?" He smiled, before his eyes fell on Miles, still dressed in Peter's costume. "Who's this?"

Miles stared visibly at Nightcrawler's unorthodox entrance. He thought that by now, maybe he would be more used to seeing superheroes as people, but Nightcrawler was a sight to see. Still blue and furry even at home and in regular clothes. He looked even stranger up close than he did on TV, and when Beast came in, the same rang true for him. Miles would have been loving this had the circumstances not been so depressing.

Scott took charge. This was his job as leader. "Kurt, Hank, Professor, I've got some bad news. Peter's dead. It looks like he hung himself, so I need you, Kurt and Hank, to head to the city and get him. Jean will give you his location."

"Oh, dear heavens." Hank was the only one to speak. Kurt's mouth dropped open and his face contorted into a pitiful, mournful look as he began to cry. Charles only tightened his lips, his eyebrows furrowing together, and bowed his head.

"Kurt, there will be time to cry later. You've got to go now. You can get there the fastest, so take Hank with you. Peter needs you." Scott felt his own tears welling up, but, as he told Kurt, there would be time later to cry.

Kurt nodded, but made no effort to stop sobbing. Jean mentally sent him the location and the image from Miles's memories. She hated to do it, but it would help him get there if he could see in his mind where he was going. The teen reached out his hand for Hanks' and disappeared with a flash of fire and burst of sulfurous smoke.

"Shall I call in everyone else?" Charles asked, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. The rest of the team would have to know. Perhaps he should also give the Avengers a call. They had known Peter too, perhaps not as well as the X-Men, but they would want to know as well. They'd all seen great promise in him, and it was known that Peter was truly a great person. Their whole teams could hardly match the heart and will to do right that Peter showed. With a little more practice, a little more experience and knowledge, he would have outshone them all, but now he would never get the chance to prove his peers right. He had been the best of the best.

"Not Alex." Scott answered his mentor. "I don't want to tell him yet."

"Tell me what?" Too late. Alex strode in from the kitchen.

"I'll tell the team, Scott." Charles nodded. "You go with your brother."

Scott gave Alex a grave look, though his solemn eyes were hidden by his ruby quartz glasses. "Alex, let's go down to the bomb shelter."

Alex's easy, relaxed expression dropped. "Who died?" He wasn't joking. He had been through too many losses not to recognize that tone, that manner, that everyone showed when breaking the bad news of a loved ones' death. Alex, sweetie, I'm sorry, but your parents are gone; Alex, I'm so sorry, but Ano and Kaleb didn't survive the fire; Alex, you need to say goodbye to your brother now. He's not going to wake up again. The words echoed through his mind. At least that last one hadn't been true. Scott had woken up, but he'd still thought his brother dead for the better part of his life, that is, until Scott found him again.

Miles became nervous when he realized that Alex was glowing red. He was guessing this one was Havok, and he was pretty sure the guy was named that for a reason. This couldn't be good.

Scott put an arm around his brother. "Let's go."

Jean sighed, gesturing to a couch. "Why don't you come have a seat, Miles? Thanks for coming and telling us, by the way. We really appreciate it."

"No problem." Miles said automatically, taking the indicated seat on the couch. He looked over at the bald guy in the wheelchair, whom Scott had called "Professor". Obviously, he was a teacher here. Maybe he was the guy the school was named after? Or did they only name things after dead people? He wasn't sure.

The rest of the X-Men filed in. He could recognize most of them. There was Storm, the white-haired, blue-eyed Amazonian weather-witch; Colossus, who wasn't as tall in real life, but huge nonetheless; Banshee, recognizable by his red hair; Angel, the winged one; Rogue, whose white-striped hair gave her away; Gambit, with those unmistakable and somewhat creepy red-and-black eyes; and the rest, he really had no clue. That left Iceman, Wolverine, and Shadowcat, so the girl must have been Shadowcat, the short, muscular one Wolverine, and the other guy Iceman. Had he seen any of these people on the street, he wouldn't have given them a second-thought. Only now that he knew he was actually with the X-Men was he able to put faces to names.

"My X-Men," Charles began solemnly. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. Why don't you all sit down?"

The entire mansion shook, interrupting him.

"What was that?" Miles whispered to Jean, who was sitting next to him.

She leaned back and whispered, "That's Alex grieving."

Charles continued as the ground stilled once more. "This is Miles Morales. He's done a very brave thing and come to us for help. He found our dear friend, Peter Parker, hanging by his own web in an alleyway. Dr. McCoy and Kurt are out retrieving the body right now."

Shadowcat broke down immediately and Colossus turned to comfort her. However, the news was too much for him as well, and he grew about a foot taller as his skin turned to organic steel, shielding his body from harm as well as his heart. He didn't feel so much this way. Gambit dropped his head, Rogue turned to embrace him, Wolverine just looked angry, and Angel's wings fluttered.

Iceman stared in a daze. Not Pete. He had been one of Bobby's best friends. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. Bobby wished that changing to his ice form would make him as emotionally invulnerable as Colossus' metal, but it wouldn't. He had nothing to shield him from the cold despair enveloping him, much like his own ice did. He was afraid he might break.

Storm placed a slender hand on Bobby's shoulder, understanding in her sad eyes. Banshee asked the question they were all thinking, his speech thick with his native Irish accent. "Did he really do it, Charles? Or was it a set-up?"

The father and founder of the X-Men shook his head. "We don't know. There's really no way to know."

"How about a mind probe?" Miles spoke up. "Marvel Girl's telepathic, right?"

"I'm afraid it wouldn't work." Charles responded sadly. "There is no mind left. Peter is gone."

"How about that guy, what's his name? The one with that all-seeing eye? Maybe he could help." Banshee snapped his fingers. "Doctor Strange. That's it."

"I don't think you'd wanna know." Logan added gruffly. "I say we go look for the bastard that murdered Peter Parker."

"But to look for a murder if there is none would be a waste of time and effort." Colossus stated calmly. He had no intention of arguing right now.

"True, Petey, but what's the alternative? Accept that the kid was suffering and nobody knew? That we didn't do a damn thing to help him? If that's true, each and every one of us who knew him is gonna start blamin' ourselves, wonderin' why we didn't see it, trying to figure out how we coulda saved him. It ain't worth it. At least if he got murdered, we could feel like we were doin' somethin' for him, somethin' to help him one last time. Trust me, anger's easier to deal with than hurt. It's helplessness we're all gonna feel, and with all of these powers and abilities, we ain't no match for it. Peter sure wasn't." Logan explained darkly. He knew depression. He knew helplessness and hopelessness. It was why he did his very best at beating his own healing factor and getting drunk sometimes, to forget. He was near-invincible; he couldn't die. That's not to say that he wanted to, but there had been times, times he'd chosen to let the animal out rather than feel hurt. Now he had to live with those choices.

"But why would you say that, Logan? Why would we choose to be ignorant now that we know why we were choosing it?" Ororo asked, an arm around Bobby. He wasn't crying, but this was taking a toll on him.

"Trust me, babe. I lived a long time. I know." It was the only answer she would get.

The sound of crying coming from the stairs turned heads. Nightcrawler was back, without Beast. He had teleported them straight to the X-Men's infirmary, leaving Hank there to deal with Peter's body, and come back upstairs. Storm held out her other arm for him and held him close.

He cried into her shirt. He had no words for the scene he'd just witnessed, having to help Hank get Peter down. The web had the tensile strength of steel, and it wouldn't be cut. Kurt had had to teleport him down. He had seen a lot of death in his relatively short life, losing his trapeze teacher at a young age, then his brother, even strangers in fights, but none of that had prepared him for this. It had been sickening, seeing Peter's pale, lifeless body, already cold and stiff. Kurt hadn't been with the others long enough for their bodies to grow cold and stiffen. This was new. At least his neck had been intact and not broken and limp at some terrible angle, but that held its own darker meaning. At least with a broken neck, Peter would have died instantly, but instead, he had suffocated, swinging and waiting with eyes closed for death to take him. He could have saved himself. He had a web-shooter on one wrist. He could have changed his mind, but he didn't. He wanted to die, and he would endure the suffering to get there. Kurt hoped Peter had found peace. He had prayed for his friend's soul when they arrived. Works didn't grant a person entrance into heaven, but he hoped that Peter had made it somehow.

No one dared ask Kurt any questions about what he had seen. They were all consumed in their own, sad silence.

Scott and Alex rejoined the group, Alex's face red from tears. He hardly cried much anymore, but this had pushed him to his limit. He wasn't crying anymore, though. His face was blank and downcast.

Miles dared break the silence. "Is there anyone else we need to tell?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. He had an aunt. She took care of him." He looked at the group, making eye contact with all who would look back. "I think she deserves to know the truth. Professor?"

Charles looked up and nodded. "I agree. She deserves that at least."

"Then I say we do this properly. Alex and Jean, suit up. We're going to take Peter home once Hank's got him ready. Professor, would you come with us?"

"Of course, Scott."

The three X-Men went to dress, taking their time, as the rest milled about, consumed in their own grief. Banshee offered to put on a pot of coffee, and others started voicing questions.

"Why did he do it?"

"What was going through his mind?"

"Didn't he know what this would do to his aunt and everyone else?"

"Didn't he know he was loved?"

"Why couldn't he have just held on?"

"Why didn't he ask for help?"

They were all valid questions, but no one had any answers. They would never know; they could only wish that he had asked for help, realized how much of an impact his death would have on those who loved him, or at least just stuck it out, but he didn't. He didn't and they didn't know why.

Scott, Jean, and Alex emerged, dressed in their costumes. "Hank's ready. Miles, are you coming with us?" Scott asked.

Miles stood up, feeling like maybe he should change as well. "Yes sir. Maybe I could take this costume off, though?"

Scott nodded. "Go ahead. Bathroom's that way."

He and Jean went to retrieve Peter's body from Hank. They didn't' have a coffin, so the good doctor had simply wrapped him in a sheet. He'd looked for signs of foul play, but found none. After that, he cleaned the body as best he could, straightened the rumpled clothes, and just tried to make it look more like Peter. He was no mortician, but he did his best.

"Give his aunt all of our best wishes and accolades for him." He told Scott as they took Peter away. "He was a noble young man." Hank didn't want to admit that suicide was nonetheless a selfish action, but everyone had their moments of weakness. He couldn't find it in his heart to harbor anything against the tormented young man, though he knew anger, at least for those closest to Peter, would come later. It would be a difficult trial to help his friends here at the mansion deal with their anger at Peter for dying, for taking his own life, for making them suffer, and perhaps greatest of all, for not getting help and preventing this outcome. Once the shock and self-blaming passed, they would have this to deal with, all along with sadness grief. Finally, there would be acceptance, but there was no telling how long that would take.

Scott nodded and pushed the stretcher that held Peter's body towards the elevator. They could have just had Jean telepathically carry him, but it didn't seem right, probably since rigor mortis had set in and Peter would have been straight as a board, floating through the air. Wrapped in a sheet, it would have been downright ghostly.

They met up with Alex, Xavier, and Miles, and piled into one of the X-Vans. Alex sat in the back with Peter, but he didn't even look at the shroud. He stared out his window, cold and stoic.

It was a quiet drive to Peter's Queens home, where he used to live with his aunt May. Alex stayed in the car with the body while the others got out. He would get out when they got Peter out.

Scott straightened his posture and knocked on the door. "May Parker?"

May couldn't deny that she was afraid when she saw two superheroes standing on her doorstep, along with two other, normally-dressed people. Where superheroes went, there was usually trouble. "Yes?"

"I'm Cyclops, from the X-Men, and this is Marvel Girl and Professor Xavier, but you and I have already met. My brother Alex is a good friend of your nephew's."

May gasped. "Scott? Scott Summers?" It couldn't be! Who in the world was Peter hanging out with! If he wasn't careful, he was going to get himself killed one of these days!

"Yes, ma'am. This is my wife, Jean, and this is Miles Morales. He's a new acquaintance. May we come in?" Scott nodded inside.

"Yes, of course. Come on in." May opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Have a seat. Can I get you anything?" It was a strange feeling, having superheroes in her house, but she did her best to be a good hostess.

"No, ma'am, but thank you." Scott answered for everyone else and continued standing.

"Is Peter alright?" She had a very bad feeling about this, but she hoped that she was wrong.

"That's what we've come here to talk to you about, Mrs. Parker. You see, Peter never told you, and we respected his wish for this to remain his secret, but the situation has changed. Peter," Scott couldn't find a good way to phrase this, "was Spider-Man." He decided to let her digest that before he continued on.

She gasped. He had been acting strange for awhile now, but she wouldn't have guessed that. "He's hurt, isn't he?" She hoped that was all it was, but in the back of her mind, she doubted that she would get a visit like this, military-style and in full uniform, if Peter were just hurt.

Scott wished he were a more eloquent man, for he had no flowery words to say or any way to say it that might make it easier for Peter's poor aunt. She had lost her husband and now she had lost her nephew. He wondered if she had any family left. "I'm afraid Peter is dead, Mrs. Parker. Miles here found him in an alleyway. We're looking into it to make sure there was no foul play involved, but it looks like he committed suicide."

May collapsed right there, dissolving into gross sobs immediately. Why hadn't she known? Why hadn't she asked? How long had this been going on? Oh, her poor, poor baby. Peter was like a son to her. She'd had no other kids, and raised him. He was all she had. He was her world, and now he was gone. She didn't know if she would survive this loss. She might just die of a broken heart.

Jean went to May and embraced her. Even though she had never met the woman before, May needed comfort.

"I'm so sorry." Scott apologized, his voice tight. "We brought his body, if you would like it. Alex is with him out in the car." He waited for a response, but got none. He knelt and put a hand on May's shoulder. "He was a good man. You have every right to be proud of him. Because of him, countless people got a second-chance at life." But that ended with Peter. The X-Men couldn't be there like he was, nor could any of the other heroes. There simply wasn't enough of them. Peter had worked as hard and done just as much as any team, but he couldn't save anymore people now. His last act had been one to try and save himself from any more misery. "He'll be missed dearly." Finally, he quieted, and just let May cry. It was a good while before she was calmed enough to speak.

"I want to see him." She said.

"Miles," Jean's voice echoed in Miles's head. It was the strangest thing. At first, he thought she'd said his name out loud, but when he looked at her, she was tight-lipped and staring at him. Still, he got the message and followed her out to help.

Alex helped as well, his face red once more. He was glad to have had a private moment with Peter, to talk to him, say his goodbyes. He hadn't gotten that with any of the others, not even Scott. There had been a social worker in the room at the time, and with his friends and his parents, they had died suddenly, and he never saw them again. There wasn't much left to say goodbye to.

They silently extended the legs of the stretcher and wheeled Peter inside. May fell into fresh sobs when she saw it. She flew to the stretcher and embraced the shrouded body, then, with a shaking hand, dared to pull back the sheet. It didn't seem possible for her to cry any harder, but she did when she saw his face and bruised neck. It was obvious how he'd died.

She lovingly stroked his face, though it was cold and felt all wrong. She kissed him over and over and petted his hair, only pausing to hug his stiff corpse again and again, then kiss him and pet him some more. "Oh, Peter," she whispered. "Oh, Peter."

When she pulled back, Alex went to her. He hugged her, not waiting for her to embrace him first. It reminded Scott of how his little brother used to be, before the plane crash, initiating contact instead of shying away from it. It was almost childlike.

May clung to Alex, holding him as much as he was holding her. He and Peter had been such good friends. Alex was one of the few Peter had ever brought home, and though he was quiet, May had liked him immediately. She had sensed some kind of need in him, something borne of loss. She couldn't help but mother him a bit as well as he and Peter had shared milk and cookies while working on homework or just joking around and conversing about things she would never understand. Alex was almost family.

"We'd like to contribute to his funeral." Xavier finally spoke up once May and Alex released one another. "We want to honor him as the hero he was. Like Scott said, he saved countless lives."

"And we'll gladly volunteer our services for anything you need, whether it's food, funeral costs, or even making sure he's treated respectfully by the authorities." Scott continued. "He meant a lot to all of us."

May was suddenly seized by a horrific idea. "You don't think they'll dissect him, do you?"

"No ma'am. He'll be given a proper burial, as well as proper treatment." Scott assured her. They would make sure of it.

"I guess I should call someone." She looked up with eyes that shone with unshed tears. "But what do I tell them?"

"Tell them you found him in his room. We'll make sure they take it." Charles decided. It wouldn't be hard to make them think they had been to the scene, looked at it, and done everything they were supposed to. Peter's identity as Spider-Man would remain a secret. He would be counted as just another casualty of society's unrealistic demands taking their toll.

May nodded, and called 911 to report her nephew's death. Scott, Alex, Jean, and Miles filed outside and took the van and stretcher away. The ambulance arrived quickly, along with a few police cars. Charles had no difficulty convincing them of what they expected to see, a rope and toppled chair in the young man's room. They finished their business, and Peter was taken to the morgue to be prepared for burial.

"Are you sure about this?" Scott asked May on the day of Peter's funeral.

May nodded. "He deserves to be recognized for what he did."

Initially, it had been the X-Men's idea to honor Peter and reveal his identity posthumously, and May had taken to it. Peter had done a lot, and suffered in silence because of the hatred he received for sacrificing his time, his life, and his well-being for the good of others. She wanted this for him, and she had the X-Men's, the Avengers', the Fantastic Four's, Daredevil's, Captain Britain's, and even some whack-job named Deadpool's words that should anyone come and protest or dishonor Peter's memory, they would be escorted from the premises.

The place looked like a convention for superheroes. Each and every one of them had something to say about how Peter had impacted their lives.

"He taught me what it means to be a hero." Captain Britain said to May, staring at Peter's body in the casket. Peter was dressed in his costume, though they left the mask off. With all of the make-up, he almost looked like himself.

"I don't know how he did it. He learned how to do this all by himself. I thought he dealt with it so well. Not only did he teach me how to be a hero, he taught me how to be a man, how to think outside of myself, and how to take responsibility for my own actions." He didn't mention that the two had shared an apartment for awhile before Peter kicked him out for being an ignorant, drunken, spoiled brat. It was that, when Peter had shown Brian that money couldn't buy his way out of everything, that Brian had realized how bad he truly was and decided he needed to change. Apparently, Peter hadn't been able to keep up the rent and had moved back in with his aunt.

"He's the best man I ever knew. More of a man than me." Brian admitted, even though Peter was younger than him, it was true.

"Thank you." May nodded and hugged the costumed man. She'd had no clue who Captain Britain was, or even that there was a Captain Britain, but she was thankful for the sentiment.

Tony Stark approached her next, after viewing the body. "I've never met a brighter kid. If I'd had half his good sense when I was younger," he shook his head. "I could have been something better. I kinda wish I could do it all over again, and if I could, I'd want to be more like him."

May hugged him as well, tears in her eyes. "Thank you."

Next up was Captain America. "Ma'am, I'm truly sorry for your loss." He began his condolences like a true military man. He looked back at Peter. "He would have been greater than us all. He had the most heart out of anyone I'd ever met. He was something truly special; he took an accident and made something wonderful out of it. Losing him is a shame and a loss for the entire world. I'm honored to have known him."

May could hardly believe all that she was hearing about her Peter. Well, she could believe it, she knew it was all true, but to see who it was coming from. It made her heart swell with pride. She thanked Cap, and when he stuck his hand out for a handshake, she hugged him.

The one named Deadpool was in line after Cap, and he was sobbing through his mask. He immediately enveloped her in a hug as if they were old friends, both mourning their loss. "He was the most beautiful person I've ever met. I want to be him when I grow up, and I bet he could make a mean chimichanga." Oh that was stupid, you idiot. We're at a funeral, not a cook-off. Leave it to him to screw things up. By the way, you should probably get the number of that mortician and get some makeup tips later. "Who was his mortician?"

May looked horrified. "Thank you for your condolences," she managed to get out and tried to move him along.

She doesn't want the D…eadpool! Burn. Turned down by an old lady. Wait, that's Spidey's aunt. Gross! "I just wanted to get some makeup tips! I could use a little paint on the ole barn." Wade called as he was moved down the line. Wonder if they'll have any of those little sandwiches at the after-party. No, that's not what it's called. What is that thing called?

The line continued for the viewing, and Bobby found Alex, off by himself. They were the two X-Men who had been closest to Peter. "Hey."

Alex glanced at Bobby, but made no effort to return the greeting.

Bobby joined Alex, gazing at the pictures of Peter, laid out next to his favorite camera. "I just keep asking myself, why'd he do it?"

"Because his life was crap." Alex answered matter-of-factly. "He was failing out of school because he was Spider-Man, he couldn't keep a job because of it, the guy he did work for was probably the president of the 'let's-all-hate-Spider-Man Club', pretty much all of New York hated him, probably more people hated him too, and then there were the people he put in jail who hated him and wanted him dead, or would have gone after his aunt if they'd found out who he was, he kept worrying about her, he lost his parents, he lost his uncle-which he blamed himself for, he lost Gwen-another thing he blamed himself for, he lost his best friend-probably blamed himself for that too, he had to break up with the girl of his dreams because of the Spider-Man thing again, he felt like a freak sometimes, he worried he was going to mutate into a giant spider, and outside of other superheroes, he had no friends. He's seen death more than most of us, and his life was a living hell. It's no wonder when you think about it." Alex and Peter had been close. They'd had so much in common, even in the not-so-nice parts of their lives, that they'd shared a lot with each other.

"Yeah, but he could have asked for help. It could have changed. He didn't have to deal with all of that alone." Bobby refused to believe Peter's situation had been entirely hopeless. Peter may have felt it was, but nothing was completely without hope.

"He could have, we probably could have helped him fix some stuff, but he didn't ask. That's just the way it is. He tried to deal with it all on his own and it killed him." Alex didn't see the point in what-ifs or imagining how things could have gone differently. He'd done enough of that in his life. He didn't want to do it anymore. Best to just accept it and move on.

"If you knew all of this, why didn't you help him?" Maybe you could have stopped him. Bobby didn't want to place the blame on Alex, but he had to wonder why.

Alex finally looked at him. "He said he was fine. He acted like it was, and I bought it. I thought he was dealing with it, better than I was dealing with my own crap. Guess I was wrong." He turned his head and stared forward once again. "He was a hell of a good actor. There's one thing I didn't know about him. I know he always acted like a doofus when he put that stupid suit on. Said anonymity was freeing. Guess Spider-Man was more of the true him than he usually was." And Spider-Man had ended up in the trash.

Bobby nodded, seeing the positive side of that instead. "And he was a selfless, caring, guy. A true hero." The word got tossed around a lot, but Peter was the definition. Someone who was remarkable, brave, admired, who put others before himself. Through Spider-Man, Peter's true colors had shown, and they were beautiful to look at.

Music began to play and caught the boys' attention. It was time for the service.

Peter Parker was laid to rest, wreathed in flowers by his friends and family, and mourned by many. Gifts were placed all around the graveside, and Spider-Man fans wore T-Shirts and masks, held signs, and made their support known for their favorite hero and his one surviving family member. The superheroes present all kept true to their word and kept all nay-sayers away, providing a beautiful, honoring service for one of humanity's greatest men.

Peter Parker

Beloved Son, Nephew, and Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man