Peter stood in front of the wooden desk which needed a new paint job badly, it was beginning to peel, scratched and worn from years of negligence. He eyed the man that sat behind it, watching his hands skim over the paper money. The man sighed and shrugged backwards into his office chair.

"Here, a hundred." He took out two notes from the grand total of three hundred and threw them towards Peter whose eyebrows creased.

"But the prize was three hundred?!"

"Three hundred for three minutes, you were only in there for one."

"Are you kidding me. That's not fair, c'mon man." He strained his voice and clenched his fists by his side in annoyance. Peter had been cheated and he needed that money.

"A hundred, take it or leave it." Peter chewed on his cheek before taking the money. He didn't want to argue with the man, but a fiery rage burned within him.

"Fine." He snatched it up and as he turned around and stomped out the door the man called after him.

"T'was great doing business with you." He called out poorly imitating an English accent. Peter grimaced and pushed the button to the elevator at the end of the gloomy hall. Peter seemed to deflate, he had won but not really. It was not what he was after – not what he intended for. A lesson Peter would have to come to terms with one day. But for now, his attention was turned elsewhere. The hairs on his arms stood on end, he placed a pale hand over it and turned to look behind him. He had no idea what told him to do it, but it was...a strange feeling.

"The money!" A husky voice commanded sternly through the door of the office. "Give it to me now!" The robber aimed his gun untrained hands at the so called business man, he wavered it between the money and him. "Do it or I shoot!"

"Okay, okay." The man replied cautiously moving his hands from the surrender to the table, transferring the rest of the money into the black satchel. The criminal let out a hyena like laugh and bolted towards Peter as the elevator doors began to slide open. Peter stood motionlessly. This was his moment, he should do the right thing. Stand his ground and prevent a crime that could be stopped. But he was too caught up in his anger that he let revenge take over. He took a step to the side letting the robber through, the lift shook around him and the doors began to close. The man behind the desk chased after him but it was too late.

"Thanks kid!" The perpetrator grinned, his crooked teeth visible, a wild look of insanity in his eye. The doors closed leaving Peter stranded in the hallway. He glared over to the panting man who chest rose with fury. This is what you deserve.

"You have no idea what you've just done boy."

---

Peter exited the building feeling giddy, he may have only got a third of what he was promised but he had gotten his revenge. But the price to pay was much more than he could comprehend. Actions have consequences. As he approached where his uncle had promised to pick him up he came to a stop and looked upon the crowd of pedestrians and policemen who were surrounding something. A hit and run victim, a mugging? Peter inched closer and closer to the scene until his heart stopped. A face he knew. His word slowed as he pushed past the bystanders and cops until he collapsed onto his knees in front of the wounded man.

"Uncle Ben?" He felt tears come to his eyes, glassing over with moisture. "Uncle Ben!" He called out once more as he knelt over his uncle whose bloodstained hands covered a gunshot wound. Peter's body shook, and his hands trembled.

"Peter..." His voice was weak and clinging onto the little life force he had left. He reached out a bloodied hand which Peter clung onto for dear life, he never wanted to let go. "It's okay Pete..."

"We'll get you help, d-don't worry." He cried out holding on tighter. "You're g-gonna be a-a-alright."

"It's too late for me." His eyes searched Peter's – the son he never had.

"Don't say that. Everything is going to be okay..." The crowd watched on, but Peter didn't care. The police began signalling to the bystanders to back off slightly. Their hearts ached along with Peter's, but he hurt more than anyone.

"Look after her."

"No, no, no...you're fine, please don't go...don't leave me!" Peter sobbed, thoughts raced through his mind. This was all his fault. He let this happen.

"Peter..." His chest fell but did not rise, the grip on Peter's hand now limp. The noisy streets of New York cease to be. A high pitched ringing engulfing him in a state of disbelief. His head hung low and his fists clenched at his clothes. The life in his uncle's eyes fading away, the stillness was chilling and eerie. A person with such life and personality – all gone within a second. How could something so devastating and distressing only happen within such a short amount of time. Peter's throat was dry and scratchy as paramedics began to move in. But they were too late.

"Perp came from that building, shot this man and took off with his car when he refused to give it up." The officer began explaining the situation to the other government workers who knelt down by the body. Peter couldn't think straight, it was his fault. The crime he could have stopped resulted in taking something so precious away from him. But that wasn't the end of it, guilt was too stronger of an emotion – perhaps stronger than revenge. It was eating away at Peter, their last conversation, their last argument. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't chase the criminal, Peter could barely even move. He pulled away from the body and stood on shaky knees. His world spun and the flashing lights and screaming sirens overwhelmed him. There was nothing he could do, if only there was a way to stop things like this from happening...

---

Peter stood outside his front door, memories echoing in his mind, dried tears staining his cheeks. He didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, but he had no choice. It had to come from him not a police officer. He needed to look after Aunt May, it was his uncle's final request and he would stay true to it. He turned the knob slowly and was greeted with a smiling face which quickly changed once Peter began to speak. It was as if Peter wasn't even there, words fell out of his mouth as he let his subconscious take over.

---

You scanned your surroundings, your eyes darting left and right at everything and everyone – anything that could be a potential threat. You quickened your pace down the busy street and covered up the bloody stain. It hadn't quite sunk in how close to death you came, you only hoped that you hadn't been followed.

As the adrenaline began to wear off the wound began to throb with a stinging sensation. You winced and gritted your teeth trying to hold in a cry of pain. Pedestrians eyed you as you walked by, looking at the sad sight as if they had seen it all before. I should have listened. You kept telling yourself over and over until it was the only thing that consumed your mind.

"I can't go home like this." You utter to yourself gazing down at the slice in your jumper. Gotta find a chemist otherwise it could get infected...shit. Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You certainly weren't dumb, why else would you go the Midtown tech. If the knife wasn't clean I'm at risk of getting a disease. I should get a blood test...but then David will know I've snuck out. You sighed frustrated with yourself and pawed at your face internally groaning about what you should do. You knew you should do somethingabout it – even go to the police but you took the stupider option of not getting yourself in trouble.

After a few quick taps on your phone you were on your way to the nearest chemist following the directions on your screen very closely – making sure to not take any suspicious or clique dark alley ways this time.

You pushed open the glass door to the pharmacy where a rush of cold air hit you from the air conditioner. It was already quite chilly outside, but you supposed it was more for the medication rather than human comfort. You paced past the shelves lined with consumer grade general health products until you reached the isle with first aid equipment. You skimmed over the items for a good minute or so before bending down and selecting a bandage and bottle of disinfectant from the bottom shelf. It was as simple as that – select, pay, leave.

---

Locking the door behind you in the handicap bathroom of Grand Central Station you laid the bandages and antiseptic out on the bench next to the sink. You figured the privacy would be more appreciated then doing it out in the open of the public restrooms – at least this one had a lock to the whole thing.

You flinched as you slid off your jumper and lifted up the side of your shirt. The blood had begun to congeal already, and it was not the most of prettiest sights, you were just thankful that the cut was shallow. You prepared yourself mentally for the oncoming pain as you drenched a cotton bud in the antibacterial solution.

Sucking in a short breath of pain you held the bud to the wound and gently moved it over the wound making sure it was clean.

"Dammit!" You cursed inaudibly. "Gah, it hurts more than when I was stabbed...stabbed." You twisted your expression. It was only now that the realisation hit you, what happens if you had died, you would never get to see Peter again. You paused your gentle motions and starred at yourself in the mirror momentarily before returning to the painful task.

"Argh, why is he the first thing I always think about...oh my god." You looked back up before laughing at yourself. "You have a crush on him, don't you?" You began interrogating yourself.

"No."

"Sure thing (Y/N), sure thing. Believe whatever you will you moron." Yeah, you were pretty pissed with yourself – mainly for the fact of your close call with let's see if god is real death experience but also the fact that Peter was always on your mind. You weren't obsessed with him – not one bit...he was just...

"Perfect in every way..." You groaned and pawed at your face. "Why do I have to be like this..." You began to tie the bandage around your torso the pain fading away ever so slightly with each thought. "Anyways, I got no chance. He's in love with MJ...really in love...super in love..." Your rolled your head back and leant your hands against the bench supporting your weight. "And here I am...Talking to myself...in front of a mirror...in Grand Central Station...after I got stabbed..."

You tied the jumper around your waist and secured your backpack onto your shoulders. After wiping the blood away from the sink and discarding the rubbish into the bin you stared at yourself once more. You weren't the type to admire and gaze at yourself but rather this was a stare of...you're a complete and total idiot.

The train ride home was long and crowded, the carriage packed with people. You were lost between the sea back coats of the nine to five daily grind, time had gotten away from you and you only hoped that David wouldn't be home soon. The train wheels screeched and whined as it slowed with continuous jerking motions pulling up to the next station – your station. The doors open, and you step out onto the platform along with half the other passengers. You look left and right gazing over all the tired faces, their briefcases and backpacks swaying with their movements. That's when you saw him, the lonely dark blue eyes, the clean shaven face and the tussled brown hair – David.

"Shit." You turned around as he looked your way hoping that he didn't see you. You weaved in and out of the other civilians of Brooklyn and bolted for the stairs, skipping the unnecessary ones. You had to be quick. David was a surprisingly fast walker and you knew if you didn't find some sort of miracle shortcut you'd be toast. You hit the ground running accidentally knocking a few people off balance as you passed them. You knew you couldn't go the normal way, he'd easily spot you – you had to be creative. Making a sharp turn you duck into an alley way, the brick wall separating the buildings at the end is smaller than normal and is accompanied by a convenient bin. Gaining speed, you push off the ground and jump onto the bin then gracefully over the fence into the next alley.

You pushed yourself harder and harder, your lungs hurt, and your wound stung. Making it to the opening you make a break for it and run out onto the busy street. Narrowly missing passing cars and dodging between traffic. You ran as fast as you could, but you began to slow as weariness took over. Your legs were going numb and shaking violently as you zigzagged between buildings and roads until you finally reached yours.

Suddenly, you came to a stop and leant up against the red and brown brick wall. You had taken every shortcut you could possibly think of and had pushed yourself beyond your limits. Your chest heaved as you gasped for precious oxygen. Pedestrians shot you strange looks as they passed by, something you had learnt to be accustomed to today. But your troubles weren't over yet. That precious minute you had was up and David rounded the corner. You had to look twice as it felt like you were about to pass out or even have a heart attack.

"C'mon man...this is so unfair." You grumbled annoyed as you stumbled towards the fire escape deciding to take the quicker way up. Gripping at the cold red metal you trudged your way up the stairs and eventually when you reached the outside of your apartment you looked over the edge and stared down below to see David go through the main entrance. Slipping through the window you switched on the lights and just as you slammed the door shut to your room the front door creaked open. Your hear picking up its pace once more you stripped off your shirt and dug for a clean on. Throwing your backpack to the corner of your room just as a knock rings through your ears. "Yeah?" You call out and take a seat on the edge of your bed.

"Just letting you know I'm having my boss over for dinner..." He said as he appeared from around the door but quickly trailed off as you looked at you. "Why's your face so red? And why are you panting?"

"I, uhm...I was just doing some exercise."

"Exercise, you? Never heard of such thing."

"Shut up. Anyway, you were saying..." You quickly changed the conversation.

"My boss is coming over for dinner along with a colleague, we need to clean the place up."

"I was gonna say, you're never home this early."

"I'm aware, I'd rather be out too." He swings the door open further and crosses his arms across his chest. "Well...You going to help or what?"

"Yeah, just let me cool off." You wave a hand in front of your face fanning the cooler air towards it.

"Right..." He says slowly as if he had a growing suspicion. "Five minutes." He closes the door behind him. Once you know he's gone for sure you collapse backwards onto the soft covers and let out an exasperated sigh.

"That was too close..." You stare up at the ceiling spotting the spider from earlier. "And that's what I shouldhave been taking care of, not a friggen stab wound." You groan and place a hand gently over the bandage. You had done a good job in making sure it was as clean as possible but the risk of getting sick was still too high for your personal liking. But you would take whatever challenge was thrown at you head-on.

Five minutes passed quicker than you would've liked but soon enough you heard your name being called through the door. You opened it and stepped out into the lounge room to see David holding a large black bin bag and rubber gloves.

"Here." He tossed it to you.

"It isn't a nuclear wasteland, David." You held up the bright yellow gloves.

"Have you ever seen behind the back of the couch."

"No?"

"Then I'd put those on."

"What could possibly be so bad that...You know what, I was gonna ask but I think finding out on my own will be less disturbing."

"Exactly." You haul the bin bag with you and pull on the gloves which are too big for your hands and pull the couch away from the wall. You twist your expression in disgust.

"Oh my god that's rank! What the hell is back there!" You cover your forearm over your nose.

"Dunno." He replies from the kitchen. Wanting to barf you move closer to the crime scene and bend down examining where the stench is coming from. You were just surprised that you'd never noticed it before.

"Well then...here it goes for nothing."