Plot: Takes place after Civil War.

Ever since the accident that ripped her from her family, Cara Jones has been living on a thin line. Without warning, she is given something that can give her the strength to truly live. Or will it be the one thing that finally breaks her. And how does one Peter Parker fit into her ever-changing story?

*Story Warnings: attempt(s) of suicide, self harm, depression, anxiety.

Chapter 1

This was it.

My final day.

Not my final day of something, but my final day as someone.

Today is going to be the day I die.

I stared at my reflection in my bathroom mirror, dull brown eyes looking back, appearance kept up enough to warrant going outside of these four walls, but nothing more. I'm wearing dark wash ripped jeans, a grey long sleeve shirt that falls past my hands, a cropped black jacket and my favorite pair of black combat boots. Pretty much the same thing I wore every day.

I finished running my fingers through my hair into and let it fall over my shoulder, tilting my head from side to side letting a few strands of the jet black strands fall loosely. The pre-written letter I was going to leave in my room was burning a hole in my back jeans pocket as I stood there for a few more minutes, waiting until the clock struck a quarter til seven.

My backpack was ready for the day-has been for what felt like weeks. But not of books, as one would need for they're first day at a new school. No, it was filled with something different.

I finger the silver keychain that's attached to my bags zipper, admiring the C and J. A birthday gift from my family. The last gift they ever gave me.

I'll see you all soon. I promise.

I taped the letter to my wall, just above my bed, and headed for the front door, pulling my hood down over my face and not making a sound. It was easily a ten minute walk to the High School from my townhouse where I lived with my guardians Zach and Holly Nelson.

I took a detour towards where I would be storing my bag until that night. It was a dark alley and little traffic came and went. It was perfect because I knew I wouldn't be bothered.

The time on my cracked iphone read 7:30am on the dot. Only wondering if my reputation had carried over from the last school I was at about my semi bad-girl nature, I made my way back to the busy New York streets and headed for my new school.

Since Holly had stopped by the school over the weekend and grabbed my schedule, all I had to do was locate and walk into my last first class, get through the school day and wait until night fell.

"Good morning students!" a perky woman greeted the class. "Before we begin I want you all to welcome our newest student, Cara Jones."

There were a few murmurs around me but nothing more than that. Comes with transferring (after moving during the school year. Again.) to a school far from where you were from. I take a deep inhale of air, shrugging into my jacket and take a seat in the back of the room, by the window.

The rest of my classes went on much of the same: arrive, be introduced, avoid people, repeat. I don't even see why they felt like they needed to introduce me in every single one. I was uncomfortable already. And it was doing nothing to help my anxiety.

At the end of class, I quickly walked back to my locker. All around me were students holding various projects, talking about different things. Being enrolled into a science school is suppose to help me, so says my guardians, but it is just making me depressed. My father was an engineer. Always said that I got my brains from him and his side of the family. Mother said that my drive to help others came from her. I use to believe all that.

Not anymore.

While I was going through my locker I mindlessly went though my books, unsure of where I was going next. With a groan of frustration, my hand clipped one of my books and that book clipped a picture of my Mom, Dad and sister that I forgot to put in my other bag. I wasn't fast enough to catch either item but someone coming up on my left was.

"Here you go,"

I reached out for my things quickly, nearly snatching it from the person's hand. I muttered a thanks, hoping that this new person didn't see it. I pushed my locker door up a bit.

"I, uh, I've never seen you around before? Are you new here?" says a voice behind me. I hear a soft thud sound, followed by a low "ow!". When I turn around, bag clutched in hand, I see two boys, around my age, staring at me.

"Dude!"

"What? I was just asking-"

"Please ignore my idiot of a best friend. He must've left his manners back home. I'm Ned," says the other boy. "and this is Peter."

"Cara," I mutter in reply.

"Nice to meet you, Cara. Welcome to Midtown." says Peter as he offers his hand. I shake it once, and do the same with Ned, not wanting to give the impression of being open to making any friends.

"yeah, thanks."

"So, what do you have next?"

I reach into my pocket, remembering that that's where I put my schedule. "Um. Advanced Chemistry."

"That's where I'm headed. I can walk you." Peter pipes in. I inwardly groan but force a smile.

"There's no need to trouble yourself." I tell him. I wasn't up for any company or befriending.

"It's no trouble." There was a pause as he began down the busy hallway. I was focused on my breathing that I hadn't noticed the boy looking at me, as if he was waiting for a reply.

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "So. First day, huh?"

I clutched the books in my arms tight. Keep to yourself, Cara. They can't miss who they never knew. "Yeah."

"Where're you from?"

Don't say anything. Just. Keep. Walking. "Boston." Lie? Sure, that'll work. I purse my lips into a line. Why was he talking to me? I'm not worth it.

I see Peter nod out of the corner of my eye. "What brings you to New York?" I want to stop him before he can get started. I want to yell at him to stop asking questions, to stop trying to get to know me and to stop trying to be my friend.

I can't have it. I won't.

"Work."

He pauses for a second, then says, "Who? You or a parent? Well, it'd obviously have to be a parent, you don't look like your old end ugh to have a job. How old are you-"

None of your business. "No. Not me." The door to the room where our chemistry class is being held finally comes into view. I pick up my pace and find an empty seat in the back of the room. And thankfully Peter doesn't follow, opting for a seat on the other side of the room. I do, however, catch him glancing my direction before he sits down.

What our lesson was about, I know not. I chose to doodle in my notepad, one of my favorite pass times, with my hood pulled over my head.

It was lunch now, around one in the afternoon. I wasn't hungry. I hardly am anymore. So with my free time I went to the track to do some reading.

My last two classes were no different and soon I was back at my locker, making sure to pack the rope I forgot to pack this morning, swiftly shoving it into my jacket pocket.

By the time the final bell sounded, I had everything I needed for the night. On my list was one thing left. Tonight, I would be free.

"Hey, Cara." greets Peter as he falls into step beside me. I jogged down the front steps of Midtown High, trying to ignore him. He didn't get the hint.

"I was wondering if you wanted to get together to work on our chem project tonight."

I arched an eyebrow. "Sorry. Can't."

He made a face. "How bout tomorrow? Or Friday? I'm pretty much free anytime after school."

"I'm busy. Find someone else." Pulling my hood down over my face, I headed in the direction of Brooklyn.

"So I guess I'll just see ya tomorrow, then?" Peter asked me as he headed in the opposite direction. I didn't say anything else, not confirming or denying his question.Because you won't.

I stopped at a small coffee shop, needing to kill a few hours before I headed to the river. The sun wasn't going to set for a few more hours and I needed to wait until at least ten or eleven. Going back home wasn't even an option, even though I knew Zach and Holly wouldn't be there until the early morning hours.

I managed to munch on a muffin and sip some water when one of the staff members turned the evening news on. A reporter stood in front of a construction site with a look of sorrow on his face. Someone asked for the volume to be turned up. And second passed before I heard what was going on.

"...has gotten two of the workers down and out safely. The third is still unaccounted for at this time."

I watched the news reporter hold his hand up to his ear. Probably from an earpiece. I waited, like many others, for him to continue.

"Fire and Rescue are pulling everyone back before the building goes up." There was a loud crash in the background and we all watched as dust and debris fell. People screamed at something, I wasn't sure what until the cameraman panned up to what was the constructing buildings highest point. It had to be seven maybe eight stories above the ground and there, hanging by a chain, was the missing worker.

I couldn't tell how he ended up there; I really wasn't worried about that. I just wanted to see how they were going to get him down.

Then, it happened.

The chain snapped and the beam fell. Everyone gasped, waiting for the worst to happen, but something else did instead.

As the beam swung forward towards a window, the worker slipped or let go, and grabbed onto a ledge on the second floor. I guess he figured that the fall wouldn't kill him because before part of the building exploded, he let go and crumbled to the ground.

There, shaky but safely on the ground, stood the worker. He was looking around wildly as paramedics led him to a waiting ambulance.

"You'd be surprised at how often something like this happens here," said a voice. "It'd be safer if The Avengers could help out every once and a while."

I looked around until I spotted who was talking. A waitress stood by my table and gathered my dishes. "I don't know. I guess." I lifted a shoulder.

I tuned out whatever she said after that, nodding here and there before she finally got the hint and left. Around me people talked about what had happened. All I know is that I don't care about The so-called Avengers.

What good would they do for this city? They weren't around to save my family, why would they be around now?

It was finally dark. Save for a light that was dimming nearby and the cars that drove behind me across Flushing River, I was alone.

Ever since I've been in New York, I've been planning this; I needed the right spot, where I wouldn't be bothered, or stopped. This creek was all but forgotten by the city, which made it a perfect spot for me. A few weeks ago, I found an abandoned row boat. I could use it to get to the deepest area of the river, then the rest would be easy.

It was a cool night, the wind pressing against my body, I shifted back and forth with it, in sync, to the tune of the lapping waves.

This was it. The end of it all.

No more moving, no more pain, no more feeling helpless and alone and scared and worthless. Gah! I'm sick of it all!

With a huff I prepare myself, putting the final things in place.

I'm wearing my ripped jeans, and an heavy oversized sweater, my hair is tucked under a beanie, gloves cover my hands, my heaviest coat goes on top of it all. Finally, I stare at the worn backpack that holds fifteen pounds of bricks.

I pile everything into the small boat and push it into the icy cold water, and step inside, rowing out to the middle, open area.

This is the furthest I've ever gotten.

There is no going back now.

I slide my arms through the strap and begin to knot the rope through the bag and around my waist-

"Aren't you a little over-dressed?" the voice behind me comes so suddenly that I yelp. I turn over my shoulder, but with the moon having gone behind a few clouds, I can't see anyone. Which means that no one is there. Right? Right. Its just my mind playing games. Nothing that hasn't happened before.

"I mean, I know its a bit chilly here, but surely you don't need that much clothing. Unless you're from, like, California or something."

I grip the bag tighter in my hands, not wanting to let this moment slip away. I close my eyes, and mutter, "You're not real, you're not real. You're not real, not real, not-"

"Real? Uh," there's a small amount of shuffling. "nope. I'm not real. Wait, yes I am. Hi," there's a pause. I open one eye and in the dim moon lighting, I see a figure standing on the bank of the river, maybe thirty or forty feet away. I rear back, surprised. "I'm Peter-" he stops short, his eyes narrow in recognition. "Cara?"

Now you've lost it. You're seeing that boy from school, now. See, stuff like this happens when you've off your meds for so long.

"Just go away," I say lowly.

"I can't do that, Cara." there is a pause, the he continues. "W-what, uh, what are you doing out there anyway?"

I keep silent. It's obvious what I'm doing. Or trying to do. I will do it!

"Is there something you want to talk about? I'm a very good listener." there is a hint of humor in his voice. "I guess that happens when you don't do much talking,"

I flex my hands against the side of the boat, trying to build up my momentum."I don't need to talk to anyone, okay. Just leave me alone and let me-"

"Take a swim?" Peter sounds more like a child the more he talks. "Yeah, I'm not really much of a swimmer myself."

I grunt. "You aren't coming with me," So leave me to die in peace. That's all I want. Peace.

"You see, I can't just stay over here, Cara." he says. "Because if you take a dive, then I'll be forced to jump in after you."

"There's no need for that,"

"Look, I don't know what you've been though, but you don't need to do this. Just talk to me, Cara. Please,"

"I DON'T NEED TO TALK!" I'm now standing in the small boat. With the combination of the strong wind and crashing waves, I sway, each move threatening to send me over the edge. "Just, go away." Because you don't want to see this.

"I'm not going anywhere." Peter tells me. "I guess I could just wait until you jump, then dive in after you. But I don't want you to do this to yourself. Just come back over here and we'll talk."

For a moment, I consider his offer. He, Peter, seems sincere in his offer. More so than any other person who has tried to talk to me since the accident. I shake my head and release my left hand, then take a seat on the side of the boat. "I can't do this anymore. I don't want to. Please, leave me alone." I miss my parents, and my sister. If we just hadn't gone to Vienna for my birthday...

"Won't someone miss you? Friends? Family?" I can hear him moving closer to the waters edge, trying to to reason with me. But its too late. "I know we just met, but I'd miss you."

"There is no one to miss me! Not even you." tears are welling in my eyes. "I don't have anyone! I'm alone!"

"Look, I know you are thinking that this is the only way that would solve your problems. It's not." he says. "I had a hard time too, not that long ago actually, and I didn't know how I would get through it. But I did. You can't give up. You have to keep fighting."

"Why would I bother?" the wind has picked up even more. I adjust the bag on my shoulders and close my eyes. "I lost this fight a long time ago."

"Cara, you don't have to do this!" he tells me. I can hear him wadding into the cold water. But I'm done listening. "Cara? Cara, please!"

I'm about to dive into the murky waters when an explosion not to far from me lights up the night sky with reds and blues and greens and browns bleeding together in an odd colored rainbow. The shockwave of the blast shakes me and the boat, throwing my balance off.

I am airborne, falling into the dark waters before I can grab a breath. Right before the surface closes over me, I hear a distant "No!" before everything goes black.