The loss of a loved one just makes you feel, I dunno, numb I guess. That's the best way to describe it. And I've lost so many by now. Mom, Dad, Uncle Ben…and Gwen. That's the one that really gets to me because it's completely my fault. I let her go into the middle of the fight against Electro. I could have stopped her, webbed her somewhere safe, but I let her continue on. And then Harry showed up…Harry, who was there all those years ago to help me through my parents' death, and I couldn't just give him my blood like he wanted. If I had, would she still be alive? Would I be able to look at the photo of her on my desk and not feel agonizing pain? Not feel the void inside me that left with her? Would I be able to be anywhere near her family if everything had been different? That's what plagues my mind every day from the minute I wake up until my head hits the pillow at night. I can't focus. I can't make myself eat, and I sure as hell don't sleep. Not as much as I know I need to. And I'm sure that's what Aunt May is worrying about. I mean, it's not hard to miss. I know I look like hell. I can tell that I've lost weight. My "spider-sense" hasn't been really normal since that night. And it's that that keeps me from putting on the suit. I just don't function like I use to. I…I guess I'm afraid that another Gwen will happen. That it could be Aunt May next time limp in my arms. I don't know if I'll ever be able to get back out there. I guess we'll just have to see.

With a sigh Peter lightly closed the journal, placing it under the bed. He looked around his room, eyes catching the few items adorning the walls. They fell on a photo of Gwen, her hair flying around her head as she tried to keep her balance on a short wall. He remembered that day, the cold biting at his skin, and the laughter that filled the air as she flung her arms out for him to catch her. The way her eyes seemed to glow as she told him that he just might be the one, that she could imagine a life with him. His hand reached out to brush the photograph, his cheeks wet with silent tears that he was unaware of creating. He was jerked out of moment by the sound of a horn honking outside. Looking at the time he gathered his bag and headed downstairs, stopping for a moment in the kitchen to try and find some kind of food that wouldn't come back up later. Not finding anything satisfying he turned around, determined to make it out of the door before his aunt noticed his absence.

"Hold it, young man. Where are you going?" He cringed, slowly spinning around to look his disgruntled aunt in the face. It was then that he really took the chance to observe. She looked so run-down. She didn't stand as straight as she used to, and her hands shook slightly as she pushed back a stray piece of hair on her forehead. Guilt struck a cold blow as he realized that he was most likely the reason for this change.

"I'm just going out with a few friends. Nothing to worry about." He laughed softly, trying to ease her into a somewhat better mood. Starting forward, he laid a gentle kiss on her forehead before moving past her to the door.

"You're going to her grave again aren't you." He cringed at the statement, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His shoulders tense, he gave a slight inclination of the head, his eyes never leaving the grain of the door. There was a tense silence before she continued, "Just please be home by dinnertime. I'm making that pasta dish that you love so much." He sighed, resting his head against the cold wood. "I'll do my best, Aunt May."

Before she could reply he was out the door, quickly surrounded by the noises of New York. He shoved his way through the crowds barely paying attention to the hundreds of faces that passed while his feet carried him through the route that he now knew by heart.

xXx

The graveyard was the same as it has always been, with the occupants silent and unyielding and the headstones a cold reminder of everyone's future. The ground was worn down along the path to Gwen's grave, and Peter's feet fell into the footprints that were seemingly engrained into the earth. His momentum stopped as he slowly realized that Gwen's grave wasn't unoccupied. A man stood there, his stature tall in a rich man's suit, a pair of sunglasses perched on his familiar face. Dread flew through him as he realized that everything was about to change as soon as two words came out of the man's mouth.

"Hello, Spider-Man."