My eyes flutter open, and I'm met with the sharp sting of blinding lights. The room around me feels sterile, unfamiliar. I hear a voice—frantic, soft but full of relief.

"Oh, Peter! Peter!" Hands are suddenly on my arm, gripping me gently but firmly. "He's awake! He's finally awake!"

The sound is distant, like it's being pulled through water, but as my vision starts to clear, I recognize the voice, though my brain can't yet make the connection. I feel a hand brushing my cheek, and then another voice speaks, softer, like a memory tugging at the edges of my mind.

"Peter? Please, it's us. We're right here."

I blink slowly, squinting to adjust to the light. That voice—it's familiar. It reminds me of... "Gwen?" My voice cracks as I whisper her name, my throat dry, each word scraping against it like sandpaper.

Gwen's face comes into view, her eyes wide and tearful, standing just beside the bed. Then I turn to my right, and see the other face—the one who had spoken first. It's May, her eyes filled with tears that seem to have been building for a lifetime.

"Peter, yes, it's me. I'm here." Gwen's voice is soft, but the emotion weighs heavy on each word. She's standing so close, I can see the strain on her face. My vision sharpens, and I realize I'm in a hospital bed, the faint beeping of machines surrounding me.

A hospital...? How did I end up here?

"May?" I say, my voice hesitant and hoarse. "What's... what's going on?"

May's trembling hand brushes my cheek again, and I can feel the desperation in her touch. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe now. You're in the hospital. They... they found you buried under rubble a week ago. A whole week, Peter. You've been here, unconscious, this entire time. They couldn't identify you because you... you weren't awake to tell them anything. But thank god—thank god Norman found you here at the hospital. He's the one who called us."

"Wait... a week? I've been out for an entire week?" Panic seizes my chest, but May's words hit me harder. "Norman? Norman Osborn? He was the one who found me?"

Both May and Gwen exchange glances, confusion flickering between them. May nods slowly, her expression softening. "Yes, Peter. Norman's the one who called us. He found you asleep here, somehow, and made sure you were safe. He said you must've been caught in the destruction when that awful fight broke out downtown... and—oh, Peter, I thought I lost you."

May's voice falters, and the weight of her words crashes into me like a wave. I can see the pain etched in her face, the sleepless nights, the endless worry. She looks at me as if I'm a fragile ghost, something that could disappear at any moment.

I swallow hard, but my throat is raw, dry, and my mind is spinning with too many questions—too many pieces that don't fit. Norman? He found me? Does he know? How did I get here? What happened to my suit? My head aches, the unanswered questions piling up like rubble in my mind.

But despite all the confusion, I know I need to calm May. She doesn't deserve to carry any more of this fear, this uncertainty.

"I'm... I'm okay. I'm fine." The words feel hollow, but it's the best I can offer. I force a smile, one that I hope can convince her, if only for a moment.

May shakes her head, wiping at her tears, her fingers trembling. "I'm going to get the nurse, have them check on you." Her voice cracks again. "Don't move—just stay there. I'll be right back." She moves quickly, almost as if she's afraid that if she blinks, I'll disappear again, before slipping out of the room.

Now it's just me and Gwen. She stands there, arms crossed, biting her lip, her eyes brimming with unspoken questions and emotions. She's not smiling. Not yet. The worry clings to her like a shadow.

"Peter... you just disappeared," she whispers, her voice barely holding steady. "We... we didn't know what happened to you. What happened that night?"

The fear in her voice grips my chest tighter than anything. I want to tell her the truth—I want to say that I don't know how I ended up here, and that the idea of Norman Osborn finding me terrifies me more than anything. But the truth is, I can't even piece it together myself. There's too much unknown. The thought that he might know my secret—that he might've seen who I am under the mask—sends a chill down my spine.

Gwen notices the way my face hardens with the effort to remember. She reaches out, placing her hand gently on mine. The warmth from her touch grounds me.

"Hey," she says softly. "You don't have to think about it right now. You're safe. That's all that matters. You're safe."

Her smile—so genuine, so warm—makes the chaos in my head dull, if only for a moment. In that smile, there's a promise that, just for now, I don't have to worry. Just for now, I can be okay.

I nod, leaning back into the bed, the exhaustion already pulling at me again. "Yeah... okay."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours pass before they finally let me leave the hospital. The doctors say my injuries aren't as bad as they first thought and that I should be fine with rest. I'm handed a fresh pair of clothes and a bottle of painkillers that, frankly, I probably don't even need. Despite everything I went through in that fight, my body has healed almost entirely.

May and Gwen cling to me as we make our way out, each holding onto me like I might fall apart at any moment. I glance at May and try to lighten the mood with a nervous smile. "May, I'm okay, you know? I can walk just fine. You guys don't have to hold on so tight." I chuckle, but it's weak, half-hearted.

Gwen shoots me a look—stern, but with that familiar warmth behind it. "Better safe than sorry, Peter."

May nods vigorously, her eyes still glossy, the threat of tears lurking just beneath the surface. "She's right, Peter. Just... don't. Don't complain. Please."

I sigh softly, knowing better than to argue. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

The car ride home is quiet. Gwen sits beside me in the backseat, her arm wrapped tightly around mine, her head resting on my shoulder. If I weren't so anxious about the possibility that Norman Osborn knows who I am, this might've ranked as one of the best moments of my life.

Actually, it still kind of does.

I mean... we kissed. Before all this chaos, on the night of homecoming, Gwen Stacy kissed me.

I blush just thinking about it.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Does that mean she likes me? Holy crap, is Gwen Stacy my girlfriend?

No. Get a grip, Parker. Don't get ahead of yourself.

But as I feel her grip tighten around my arm, my heart stutters in my chest. I glance down at her, my expression softening. She looks so peaceful, even though I know neither of us feels at peace right now. Still, in this moment, I allow myself to enjoy the closeness.

As soon as May parks outside Gwen's house, the weight of everything comes crashing down on me again. Captain Stacy. He knows who I am. He told me before I left for the fight. It doesn't look like he told Gwen, or Aunt May, but...can I really count on him? Would he keep my secret safe?

"Okay, Gwen," May says, turning back to us, "go on inside, grab what you need, and be sure to say hi to your parents for me."

I look at May confused. "Grab what she needs?"

May sighs, her voice softening. "Gwen's been staying with me since Norman called to tell us you'd been found in the hospital. She's been helping around the house, at the restaurant... It's been hard, Peter." She glances down, trying to keep her composure. "I really can't thank you enough, Gwen."

Gwen gives a small smile. "It's no trouble at all, really. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Peter. It wasn't just me—Felicia and Harry too, we were all really worried."

Harry. Felicia. I hadn't even thought to check on them yet. I don't even have my phone—it's probably still in my bag, stashed in some alley from before the fight. I hope it's still there.

"I see," I manage to say, surprised that Captain Stacy would even allow Gwen to stay with May. Then again, knowing him, maybe he understood why she felt she had to.

"I'll be right back," Gwen says, opening the car door.

"I'll come with you," I say quickly, stepping out with her and following her to the front door.

As we walk, she glances at me with a smile, her fingers slipping between mine. My heart races. Gwen Stacy is holding my hand. Gwen Stacy is holding my hand.

The front door opens, and my thoughts come to a screeching halt as I'm met with George Stacy. His expression is... unreadable. "Peter," he says, his voice filled with something close to relief—though still guarded. Before I can respond, he pulls me into a hug, a quick but firm one that takes me off guard. "I'm glad you're okay. You had us all worried," he says, pulling back to clear his throat, trying to regain some formality. "I had a feeling you'd turn up."

Gwen stands by, smiling awkwardly at her dad's expression. "He was really worried, Peter. He searched for you every night. You should've seen the look on his face when they said you were found."

That surprises me. Captain Stacy? Every night?

He clears his throat again, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "I'm just doing my job as a police captain. I couldn't stand to see my daughter cry because her boyfriend was missing."

Gwen blushes a deep red. "Dad..." she mutters, embarrassed, and he raises his hands in surrender, a small smirk forming.

"Why don't you go on up and grab your things? I want to have a quick word with Peter," he says, kissing her on the forehead. She nods, giving me a reassuring look before heading upstairs.

As soon as she's gone, Captain Stacy's face turns serious, his eyes locking onto mine. "Peter. Where were you? Do you have some kind of secret hideout or something? Somewhere you were staying?" He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Because of your... you know."

I sigh, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on me again. This is the second person who knows. Maybe Felicia was right—I'm really bad at keeping secrets. "No, I don't have a hideout. And I honestly don't know where I was."

He frowns. "You don't know?"

"After the fight, I could barely move. I passed out. I figured that was it, that my secret would be out. But when I woke up, I was in the hospital. No costume, no sign of the guys I fought. Just... nothing. And it turns out Norman Osborn was the one who found me at the hospital." My chest tightens as I say his name, the fear creeping back in. Norman Osborn knows.

Captain Stacy's eyes narrow. "Norman? When we found the others—the... powered individuals, we didn't find you. Or Norman."

My heart skips a beat. The only person who could've pulled me out of that mess... was Norman Osborn. He must know. He knows I'm Spider-Man.

Before I can process that any further, Gwen comes back down the stairs, a bag slung over her shoulder. "Okay, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow," she says, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

George forces a smile, turning back to me. "We'll talk more later, Peter. It's good to have you back. Oh, and, separate rooms you two."

I blush, nodding awkwardly. "O-Of course. Sir."

Gwen's face is also red. "Dad, we know. Please."

Captain Stacy smiles then he waves us off as Gwen takes my hand again, leading me back down to the car where May is waiting.

As we head toward the car, the weight of what just happened settles deeper in my chest. George Stacy knows my secret. And now, so does Norman Osborn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In my room, everything feels... off. It's the same as always—my bed, my posters, my desk cluttered with half-finished homework and forgotten projects—but somehow it all feels foreign. Out of place.

Flashes of the battle flicker in my mind, the chaos, the fear, the violence. What do I even call them? The "Evil Crew"? "Bad Batch"? "Six Dumb Jerks"? I don't know, but whatever I call them, I can't shake the memories. The raw intensity of it. Just how close I came to dying.

How close I came to failing.

I almost hurt Aunt May again. I almost lost whatever it is I have with Gwen—whatever we could be—I almost threw it away. Harry almost lost someone else important in his life.

I sit down on my bed, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. I lay back, staring at the ceiling, and the weight of it all hits me. I was terrified, and part of me is too scared to even admit that out loud. Is it okay to feel like this? Is it okay to feel fear?

I've fought guys with guns, with advanced tech. Heck, I even fought a rabbit once. Shouldn't I be used to this by now? Used to the threat of death, the danger that comes with this life?

The door creaks open. "Hey, Gwen's all settled downstairs—" May's voice cuts off as she sees my face, and before I can even react, she rushes over to me, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me into her embrace.

"May..." I choke out, trying to fake a laugh. "I'm okay—"

"Shhh," she whispers, holding me tighter. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

She doesn't say anything else, just holds me, and for a little while, it feels like I'm a kid again. Like I'm back to the nights when I was afraid the monsters in my closet were going to get me.

When you're a kid, you're told those monsters aren't real. That they're just a figment of your imagination. But I know better now. I'm older, and I know that monsters do exist.

They're out there.

And they're terrifying.

Eventually, May falls asleep beside me, her arms still loosely wrapped around me. I slowly, carefully lift her arms and slip out of bed, gently tucking the covers around her.

I make my way downstairs, and there's Gwen, fast asleep on the couch with the TV on, playing some old western I've never seen before. I can't help but smile. Such a nerd.

I open the door and step outside, the cold night air biting against my skin. I take one last look at Gwen before stepping out into the windy night.

There's someone I need to talk to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After stopping by the alley to grab my bag and phone—both of which, miraculously, survived a week in New York, which might just be the craziest thing to happen all week—I finally make it to my destination. I crawl up the fire escape to Felicia's window, trying to figure out what to say.

Yes, I know this is creepy, but I feel like I owe her a visit. Her and Harry.

I freeze when I spot her inside, wide awake, but she's... taking off her shirt?! I lose my grip for a second, barely catching myself as I scramble to look away. My heart pounds in my chest, and I wonder if sneaking in through her window was a terrible idea.

After a moment, I knock softly on the glass. Nothing happens at first, and then the window slides open. Felicia stares down at me, her expression a mix of confusion and irritation. I give her a sheepish smile and wave before she grabs my arm and pulls me inside.

"Hey, Felic—" I start, but she slaps me before I can finish.

Then... she hugs me.

More hugs for Peter Parker today, apparently.

"Where were you?" she asks, pulling back and staring at me with an intensity I can't read. I'm terrible at reading her.

"I... I don't know," I admit, and she shakes her head, clearly not satisfied with my answer.

"No. That's not good enough, Parker," she says, pushing me back a little. "Try again."

I take a step forward, my voice steady this time. "I'm serious, Felicia. I don't know. After the fight, I was done. I couldn't move. I thought I'd blown my secret, but then I wake up in the hospital a week later, no suit, no bad guys, nothing."

She turns away, biting her lip. "I had to lie. To your Aunt, to Osborn, to that blonde girlfriend of yours," she says, crossing her arms. "They all wanted to know where you were. What happened to you. And I told them nothing. Nothing about the fact that it was you out there fighting those freaks."

My expression softens as I look at her. "Thank you, Felicia. Really. I'm glad you didn't say anything."

She lets out a sigh, sinking down onto her bed. "I thought you were dead, Parker. I thought you were lying in some alley somewhere, alone, bleeding out. I looked for you..."

"You didn't have to do that—"

"What?!" she snaps, frustration flaring in her eyes. "Of course I did. No one else knows! No one else knows it was you out there risking everything to save the city. I... God, Peter, I hated lying to your Aunt. It felt wrong."

"I'm sorry, Felicia," I say, sincerity heavy in my voice. "I never wanted to put you in that position. It's why I don't tell anyone. Not Gwen, not Harry, and definitely not May."

She rolls her eyes. "It's annoying when you do that...just...don't apologize. You did save a lot of people out there." A faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Hero."

I turn away, unable to meet her gaze. "Yeah, well... there's a lot of people I didn't save."

Felicia groans. "Stop that, Parker. If it weren't for you, a lot more people would have died. Including Papa Osborn."

A tightness grips my chest at the mention of his name. "Yeah. Maybe. But, Felicia... he knows."

She narrows her eyes. "Knows what? Who does?"

"Norman Osborn," I say, feeling the weight of the words as I speak them. "He knows I'm Spider-Man. I don't know how, but he was the one who found me after the fight. And he hasn't said anything, but... he knows."

Felicia looks away, processing. "So, he knows. But he hasn't told anyone. That's good, right?"

"I don't know what he's thinking," I admit. "But all those guys I've been fighting—the Goblin pills, everything—it was him. He's been pulling the strings. All this time, he's been playing me."

Felicia's face tightens as she takes it in. "That's... messed up. You need to talk to Harry."

"What? No. I can't tell him any of this. How could I? That his dad is some evil scientist experimenting on people? No, Harry's already been through enough."

Felicia rolls her eyes again. "Yeah, well, your buddy's already going through something else right now. He's been acting off—jittery, distracted. I've seen it before, Parker. He's using."

"What? Harry?" I stammer, disbelief flooding me. "No, that's—"

"It's true. I followed him one night. Turns out your best bud has been on our favorite little green pill." She explains.

I run my fingers through my hair, my mind racing. "Okay. Okay, I'll talk to him. But not tonight. I—I need time rest. I really thought that was it for me, that I was done."

Felicia watches me, her expression still unreadable. "Peter..."

"Yeah?"

She looks away, her voice soft. "I'm glad you're not... you know—dead."

I smile faintly. "Yeah, me too."

Tomorrow, it's time I pay a visit to the Osborn household.