Title: Just a boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

Warning: Spoiler-ish for Spider-Man 2.

Notes: bold italics are flashbacks.

Notes2: Follows the man who said: "He's just a kid… no older than my son"; and the black guy who says, "It's alright."

You feel the rippling muscles underhand as you and the others slowly set Spider-Man on the floor.

When you enter your house, you immediately call your son, Nick, to you.

You stare down on the boy – that's all he was – just a kid, just someone's son.

"What's wrong, dad?" Nick asks, lightly touching your shoulder when he sees the tears in your eyes.

You say nothing; just pull him into a tight embrace.

Spider-Man opens his eyes and you see the weight of the world resting in those light blue eyes of his. You see the stress and the pain as he struggles to even stand.

"Dad?" Nick pulls away and you let him. "What's wrong? You're scaring me. Oh my God, you weren't on that subway were you?"

You nod once.

You keep a hand on Nick, just wanting to make sure that he was real.

Spider-Man stumbles forward; you and the others don't let him fall. Then Doc Oct is back.

"Are you okay?" Nick is slightly panicked now.

"Yeah," you smile softly, "Spider-Man saved us."

He's your age, God help me, Nick – I thought I was looking at you for half a second.

You don't say it out loud.

Doc Oct is back and demanding Spider-Man and you feel the collective anger and defensiveness surge forward in everyone in that car.

You're still holding onto that ridiculously steel-like bicep when everyone is pushed to the side by Doc Oct's mechanical tentacles.

"Honey?" your wife is home now.

You take her upstairs and sit on your bed and place your head in her lap. You tell her what happened. You hear her start to cry when as you describe him to her.

Spider-Man doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to, just gently waves you away – he's still weak and not all there and damn it all, you want to protect this boy! But, but then he's gone and everyone is just looking at each other.

"I thought I was looking at our Nick," you say. "God, Mary, he was just a boy. He probably hasn't even had time to get into college yet and he's out there, saving the lives of people he's never met before and will never meet again. For what? So that the Bugle will call him a terrorist?"

"Do you think his parents know?" she asks.

You shrug and shake your head and fight tears.

Tomorrow, you'll see one of the men who had helped you set the hero on the floor of the train. You'll smile at each other softly, a knowing glint in both of your eyes, and you'll talk about the young man who saves and saves and saves.

You'll tell him how Spider-Man reminded you of your son and how much it scares you.

Then, then he'll tell you how Spider-Man reminds him of the younger brother who was in the Army and never really came home from the jungles of Vietnam.

You'll both wonder how Spider-Man got away, if he got away.

One week after the train, you and the man (you still won't know his name but you'll have found out that you've been riding the same train with him for the past two years) will see the Spider-Man flying through buildings.

It'll only be for a split-second – but the flash of red and blue is unmistakable as it weaves in-between the skyscrapers.

You won't be able to help the shout of joy and the stranger will laugh loudly and clap you on the back.

~End