an: so I'm almost positive this is going to be a one-shot and I'm not super happy with it but I also just couldn't physically go to bed until I wrote this so I figured I might as well post it. I hope someone out there enjoys it.
Fifty-two times. May had called Peter Parker fifty-two times, a monotonous rhythm of the dial tone—six rings—and then his voice, "you've reached Peter Parker. I'll return your call as soon as I can."
Beep.
"Peter, it's May. We've talked about this, you can't do this to me. Call me back soon. Please."
She'd hit the button again, listen to the whirring dial tone. Beep.
"Peter, honey, call me back. I'm worried."
Beep.
"Peter it's been an hour, I've called every single police station in town—New York is a mess, there's some kind of attack... please tell me you're not a part of that. Call me back."
Beep.
"Peter Parker if you don't answer your phone in the next two seconds I will march down to the Avengers tower myself and harass superheroes until I find you, and you know I'll do it. I'm not afraid to embarrass you in front of them, I swear to God Peter."
Beep.
"Peter, I just saw the news. Tony Stark is missing. Please, please, please tell me you are not with him. I swear to God I'll kill him myself if you're with him. Call me."
Beep.
May left no words on the last voicemail. She just listened to Peter's voice, "you've reached Peter Parker. I'll return your call as soon as I can." And then she cried.
The local news was still on the TV, and she watched in silent, motionless horror as videos of the destruction in downtown New York rolled in. And then his face was on the screen again. Not Peter, but Tony Stark. Even worse than that were the words scrolling under his image: missing.
It had been hours since Ned knocked on her door, wheezing, as he delivered the knock-out blow.
Peter had been on the bus. And he hadn't gotten off.
Her heart was beating so hard against her chest that she could hear the blood thump-thump-thumping in her ears. Or maybe it was her imagination. Either way, she had to sit down.
She called all the police stations in New York. Every last one of them.
No one had news on the situation, or they refused to say. I'm sorry ma'am, that is all the information I have at this time.
She called Tony Stark. When he didn't answer, like she'd expected, she called his emergency line.
Nothing. Radio silence.
May had never felt so utterly alone in her entire life.
Her kid, her kid, was God knows where doing God knows what and she had absolutely no way of reaching him. She had failed at the one thing she cared about: protecting Peter.
It couldn't get any worse. Until it did.
Screams pierced through the TV screen. She was hallucinating, she had to be, because there was absolutely no way that one of the news anchors had just disintegrated. This was all some kind of dark nightmare and she was going to wake up the next morning and Peter would be in his bed and none of it would be real.
Then the screams started coming in from outside, mixed with the screeching of tires. And wailing.
Just a dream.
But twenty-four hours later she was still painfully awake while the world was on fire.
News stations had no idea what to broadcast. The apocalypse had arrived, they said. And then even the news was silenced.
Everything shut down. The roads were closed, but it didn't matter, because there was nowhere to go anyway. The world stopped turning.
Two more days passed before she heard a knock on her door.
Tony Stark was a dead man walking. His clothes were torn, his hair was matted with blood and grease, and he was covered in dirt. Or ash. She couldn't tell.
"May."
"Where is he?" But she knew the answer. She'd known the answer since she'd opened the door and had seen him there. Alone.
"No," she breathed.
He couldn't meet her eyes.
"No, NO! You—we had a deal! He wasn't, he shouldn't have," she was screaming now, voice dripping with white-hot anger, eyes murderous. Tony had promised to keep Peter safe. And now he was gone. Her fists slammed into the shell of a man standing in front of her, fury bleeding in her veins as every last bit of energy she had was devoted to making Tony Stark feel her pain.
He didn't stop her.
"You—You... You bastard. You were supposed to protecthim. You were supposed to keep him safe! You promised me," her voice held so much rage that she almost expected Tony to just keel over right then, but he just stood there, taking the punches.
She'd been making an effort to avoid his eyes, but when she heard Tony's breath hitch, she made the mistake of looking up. Wrinkles sagged around his bloodshot eyes, and tears left ruddy streaks in the grime that dirtied his face.
In that second, all the fight drained from her body. Her throat was too sore to keep screaming, and she collapsed into his arms, sobbing, smothering tears into the filthy fabric of his shirt.
"I love him more than anything in this world," she managed to stammer in between ragged breaths.
"I know," he choked, "I know."
Tony just held May in his arms, desperately creating a fake display of calmness because it was her turn to hurt and cry and scream. Lord knows he'd done his fair share already.
He let her cry until she couldn't anymore, holding her until she fell asleep before laying her gently on the couch.
On the coffee table, he left two things: a sealed envelope, addressed to Peter, and a note addressed to May.
I'll get him back or die trying. –T.S.
And then Tony Stark walked out of May Parker's apartment for the last time.