After spending a quiet evening with Mary Jane in the park, Peter made his way back home. It was a small, cozy house, filled with memories and warmth. As he entered, the familiar scent of Aunt May's cooking greeted him, though the house was quiet at the moment. Peter could hear the distant hum of the television from the living room.
Uncle Ben sat in his usual spot on the couch, the soft glow of the TV reflecting off his glasses. He looked up as Peter walked in, setting down his newspaper. "Hey, Pete..." Uncle Ben greeted him with a smile.
"Hey, Uncle." Peter responded, his voice light but still carrying the subtle exhaustion of his day. He dropped his bag near the door and made his way over to sit down beside his uncle.
Uncle Ben leaned back in his seat, looking at Peter with a knowing expression. "How's your day been? You seem... a little out of it."
Peter gave a soft chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "Nothing too crazy, just... you know, fine." He tried to downplay the weight on his shoulders, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
Uncle Ben glanced at him for a moment, sensing there was more under the surface. "You know, Pete... if there's anything I can do to help you with all that extra responsibility, you can always talk to me."
Peter shook his head, managing a small grin. "Oh, come on, Uncle Ben. I told you, I've got it under control. It's my responsibility now. Just like the legendary Spider-Man always said."
Uncle Ben's face softened with understanding, nodding slowly. "With great power comes great responsibility." he said, repeating the familiar words that Peter had heard countless times before.
Peter nodded in agreement, though his smile faded a little. "That's right... That's why it's on me now." There was a pause, and Peter could feel the quiet pressure of it sinking into his chest.
Uncle Ben leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. "Pete, I'm proud of you. Truly. You've done more than anyone could have ever asked for."
Peter looked at his uncle, appreciating the words but still feeling the weight of the missing presence in his life. Before the silence grew too thick, Peter changed the subject. "By the way, where's Aunt May?"
Uncle Ben chuckled, the light returning to the conversation. "She's at the grocery store, buying up half the place, no doubt. You know your Aunt May—always making sure we have more than enough food."
Peter laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah, I know. She always goes overboard with the groceries."
But as the laughter died down, the familiar sadness crept back into Peter's expression. His thoughts wandered back to the man who had been his mentor and his brother in all but name—Michael Wilson, the legendary Spider-Man. Even after all this time, his absence was still a gaping hole in Peter's life.
Peter murmured under his breath, barely audible but full of longing, "I wish he was here…"
Uncle Ben glanced at him, hearing the longing in his voice. He didn't need to ask who Peter was talking about. Instead, he placed a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder, giving him a squeeze.
"He'll come back, Pete," Uncle Ben said softly, his voice filled with hope. "You're not alone in this. You've got us... and you've got him, wherever he is. Just keep believing."
Peter nodded, though the ache in his chest remained. "Thanks, Uncle Ben."
The two of them sat there in a comfortable silence, the warmth of family wrapping around Peter like a safety net. But no matter how strong that net was, the absence of his mentor lingered like a shadow over his heart. He could only hope, like Uncle Ben said, that one day Michael would return.
And until then, Peter would keep carrying the responsibility—the one passed down to him, along with the hope that somehow, everything would be okay again.
As Peter was lost in his thoughts, the sudden sound of his mcall device buzzing brought him back to reality. He glanced down at the screen, seeing the name "Mary Rose Wilson" pop up.
"Excuse me, Uncle," Peter said quickly, already moving toward the corner of the room to take the call. "I gotta pick this up."
Uncle Ben gave him a knowing nod. "Go on, kid."
Peter stepped away, feeling the familiar tightness in his chest that always came when talking to Mary. She was like a sister to him, Michael's wife—his brother figure. As he swiped to answer the call, he expected Mary's soft, comforting voice to greet him. But what came through the line stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Hello, Pete." came a deep, familiar voice.
Peter froze. His heart skipped a beat. He knew that voice. Even after all these years, he could never forget it.
"...You... you..." Peter stammered, his throat tight, words barely escaping his lips.
The voice on the other end chuckled softly. "Yes, Pete. It's me. Michael."
Peter felt his world tilt on its axis. Tears filled his eyes, the overwhelming shock crashing down on him like a wave. His mentor, his brother, the legendary Spider-Man—Michael Wilson. After four long years of searching, of hoping, he was finally hearing his voice again.
"Where are you?" Peter managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Come to my house." Michael replied calmly, as if no time had passed at all.
Peter wiped at his eyes, trying to steady himself. "Don't move! I'll be there soon!" His voice was choked with emotion, but the urgency was clear.
He turned, his mind racing, heart pounding in his chest as he looked at his Uncle Ben. He couldn't explain it now, couldn't waste another second. He had to go.
"Uncle, I gotta go!" Peter shouted, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and disbelief.
Uncle Ben, though unsure of what was happening, could see the importance in Peter's eyes. He gave a nod, his voice calm. "Go, Pete. Go."
Without wasting a moment, Peter activated his watch. "Hero on!" he called, and in an instant, the familiar red and blue iconic Spider-Man suit covered his body. The comforting hum of the nanotech wrapped around him, a transformation he'd done countless times, but this time with a fire inside him that hadn't been there in years.
His Spider-Man mask settled over his face, and with a final glance toward Uncle Ben, who gave him an encouraging wave, Peter shot a web at the nearest window. The glass slid open, and in one fluid motion, Peter leaped into the city sky, swinging between the buildings with renewed energy.
As he soared through the air, his heart raced with anticipation. His mind was flooded with memories of Michael—the man who had trained him, fought alongside him, and guided him through the toughest of times. And now, after all the waiting and searching, Peter was about to see him again.
The wind rushed past Peter's face as he zipped through New York's skyline, his focus solely on one destination: Michael's house. The familiar streets blurred beneath him as his heart pounded with a mixture of joy, fear, and hope.
As Peter arrived at Michael Wilson's house with his heart pounding, barely able to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions inside him. As soon as his feet hit the ground outside the door, he sprinted forward, not even bothering to knock. He burst into the living room, the door swinging open with a rush of wind.
Inside, the scene was warm and filled with laughter. Mark Taylor and his wife Emily sat together on the couch, laughing with their son Daniel, who was playing with a toy on the floor. Mary Rose Wilson stood nearby, smiling as she watched the scene. But what made Peter freeze in place was the sight of a familiar blond-haired man kneeling on the floor, gently patting a young girl—Marsel Rose Wilson, Michael's daughter.
Peter's throat tightened as he took in the scene. His breath hitched, and before he could stop himself, the word slipped out.
"Captain..."
Michael was still the same as he remembered him, hardly changed. His sharp, confident posture and that unmistakable air of leadership remained, as if no time had passed at all. Yet, there was a subtle difference. Just a little older—maybe 4 years at most—but everything else about him, the way he stood, the way he smiled, was the same. It was as though the years had barely touched him.
"It's been a while, Pete." Michael said, his voice rich with warmth and nostalgia.
Peter's vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. His body trembled with emotion, the reality of seeing Michael again finally crashing down on him. Without another thought, Peter muttered, "Hero off.." and in a flash, the red and blue Spider-Man suit retracted into his watch, leaving him in his normal clothes.
Before anyone could react, Peter dashed forward, closing the distance between him and Michael in an instant. He threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly, unable to hold back the flood of emotions any longer. The embrace was full of relief, joy, and years of pent-up longing. Peter held onto Michael like he was afraid to let go, as if by doing so, the man might vanish again.
Michael returned the hug, strong and reassuring, like he always had in the past. He patted Peter on the back, chuckling softly. "You've grown, Pete." he said with a quiet, affectionate tone.
Peter didn't care how he looked, tears streamed down his face as he whispered, "I missed you, Captain... I missed you so much."
Michael's smile softened, and he pulled back just enough to look Peter in the eyes. "I missed you too, kid. I'm sorry I was gone for so long."
For Peter, in that moment, everything else faded away. It didn't matter where Michael had been, or why he was gone for so long. All that mattered was that he was here now.
....
....
....
....
.....
"Everyone... Let me tell you all, this story… it's not just about me. It never was. It's about us—me and my teacher. It's about the lessons that go beyond the mask and the powers."
"It's about him, Michael Wilson, teaching me what it really means to be Spider-Man. Not just the fighting, or the swinging through the city. But the responsibility, the heart, and the hope that never dies, even when things get tough"
"Who am I? I'm Peter Parker, the kid from Queens, but more than that…"
"I am Spider-Man."
To be continue
(Last Epilogue left)