Hey y'all! So, here is chapter numero tres. I'm really glad y'all are enjoying this story. I'm having so much fun writing it and the amount of follows and favorites and reviews has really bumped my urge to write. So, here it is!

The time was going on eight o'clock. The boys were in the guest room where Peter slept while visiting. Peter was in an old baggy shirt and listening to his Uncle's tales of the life of an electrician—Peter loved to listen, and Ben loved an audience to tell.

May and Ben had extended their nephew's bedtime so that he could talk to his mother after she landed in London; about nine o'clock their time after taxiing and deplaning.

The master bedroom door opened as May exited in sweatpants and a tank top with wet hair. As she walked through the kitchen towards Ben and Peter the landline rang.

Her brows furrowed together as she wondered who would be calling at this hour—Mary wasn't expected to land for a bit longer. Unless, of course, her flight managed to get in early.

May picked up the receiver. "Hello?" She asked.

After a moment she spoke, "No, this is his wife. Can I help you?"

A minute later, the color had drained from May's dark skin and her eyes shined bright with tears.

The details of the news flowed in one ear and right out the other. Finally, May's suffering was put to ease as she said, "Thank you. Goodbye."

The phone dropped from her hand and the line was too long to save it from bouncing onto the floor below.

Ben shouted from the next room over asking if everything was alright. After he got no response, he left Peter alone to check on his wife.

Ben located May in the kitchen, her knuckles white as she clutched the island's counter and tears leaking down her face.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked in a concerned tone.

After a moment, May formulated a sentence, "It's your sister."

Ben tensed. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Ben. But there's been an accident. The plane . . . it went down over the Atlantic. T-They haven't located any survivors . . ."

Ben's face crumbled, his features sinking as the news struck. Tears glistened in his dark eyes before rolling down his cheeks. May embraced her husband in a tight embrace, the two holding one another together as they sobbed over the loss of a beloved.

Time slowed to a halt and the seconds felt like minutes until they really were.

The couple was so lost in their breakdown that neither noticed when young Peter entered the room. Confusion washed over the orphaned boy's face as he crept towards his Aunt and Uncle sensing the tension in the room.

"Uncle Ben? Aunt May? I'm tired . . ."

May, responding instinctively to the whispers of the small child, pulled away from her husband. Her face was stained red with the weight of loss. However, she understood Peter would need her more than ever right now.

As she stepped towards the boy, Ben's hand wrapped around her arm. As May glanced at her husband, shocked by the raw emotion on his face, he spoke: "Not tonight. In the morning. Let him have one more night of peace."

May contemplated arguing; however, her heart gave in when she turned back to Peter. His expression was so innocent, and she didn't want to corrupt it. May lifted her nephew into her arms, shielding him from the truths of reality.

"I know, Peter. Come on, let's go to bed."

"What about my Mom?" He inquired.

May's voice cracked as she forced out, "She's not gonna call tonight. But, I promise she loves you very much."

Ben nor May slept that night. The two gave into their grief and comforted one another. Ben's heart ached for his little sister who would never celebrate another birthday or laugh at one of his corny jokes or see her own son again. At least with his parents he'd been expecting it—his father, old and frail, taken in the night and his mother, suffering but happy, to cancer—but Mary's was too sudden; so undeserving.

Out of the two of them, May managed to bury her sorrows the best. She understood the responsibilities looming in the future and didn't have the time or effort to properly deal with the loss.

In the morning when Peter woke, he could sense the disturbance in the atmosphere. Everything suddenly felt different and wrong at the same time. He located his Aunt on the couch with an empty box of tissues on the floor.

"Aunt May?" He spoke cautiously.

May's head whipped around to face her nephew and she forced a smile onto her lips. "Hey, Peter. Did you sleep well?"

Peter nodded and neared his Aunt.

"Listen, kid, I've got some news to tell you."

Peter stepped closer, not knowing what to expect. May lifted the child into her lap, running a hand through his hair. She searched his features for any signs of his mother, but Peter was his father's son—whoever the mystery man was. The only connection May could make between Peter and Mary was the thin lips and arched eyebrows.

"Peter, last night, when your mom left for London, something happened. Her plane took off and it . . . it crashed in the water," May explained.

Peter locked eyes with his Aunt, barely comprehending her words. "Is she okay?"

May shook her head, holding in tears, "No, she's not."

"When is she coming back?"

May took a deep breath. "That's the thing, Peter. Your mother isn't coming back."

Peter furrowed his brows together. "Why not?"

"Because she's gone. Peter, when something really bad happens—like a plane crash—and people get hurt really bad, they die."

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes. May took her nephew's hands and squeezed them reassuringly. "It's okay, baby. Your mom is in a better place. She's in heaven, looking down on you with a big smile."

Peter looked at his Aunt through teary eyes. "Is she still hurt?"

"No," May said while shaking her head vigorously, "no, your mom is resting. Death is a natural part of life, Peter. It's nothing to be scared of. When someone dies, all their pain goes away and they're happy."

For the next few minutes, May comforted Peter as he cried softly. She wasn't sure he understood entirely where his mother had gone, but he'd gotten the general gist that everything was not okay.

Six days later the story of flight 724 had died down. Nobody, except the victims' families, seemed to care about the engine failure that had occurred three hours after the plane took off from LaGuardia Airport. The investigation had been closed by law enforcement on the second day after identifying a manufacturing issue in the right engine. The airline made a statement apologizing for the mistake that should've been identified before the loss of life as well as giving their condolences to the families who had lost loved ones.

No service had been held for Mary Parker. The loss was too great to conduct a day dedicated to her solely. May had spent hours consumed by the computer searching for proper ways to help a child deal with bereavement. Her mourning period was over, and now it was time to focus on raising her nephew.

Ben was going back to work on Monday and was handling his sister' absence well. Ben speculated that he had some practice with losing people since his parents and other relatives were all gone. After May suggested they be more active around Peter, Ben was surprisingly happy to spend as much time possible with his nephew. May suspected it was so that he could glimpse his sister in Peter's appearance and mannerisms.

May glanced over at Peter who was staring out of the taxi's window. In the past few days, the news had managed to sink in giving his skin a pasty color and sucking the happiness out of the youngster. His eyes were sunken, bags shadowing his face. He'd already withdrawn from them, closing himself in the guest bedroom and lying in bed all day long. May could count the amount of times Peter had actually finished a meal on one hand. And, at night when she got a glass of water from the kitchen, she could hear him tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep.

May turned her attention to Ben who was looking forward, his eyes dazed.

After several minutes of silence, the cabdriver pulled the car to the curb and looked back at the trio. "Card or cash?"

Ben paid as May and Peter shuffled out. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat as he eyed his home. The windows were covered by curtains, but no light shone through from the inside. It could be abandoned for all anybody knew.

As May climbed the stairs leading to the door, she glanced down at her nephew who was glued to the sidewalk. She quickly joined him.

"Come on, Peter. We won't be long. I promise. We're just gonna get some stuff from your bedroom, okay?" She aided calmly.

Peter took a deep breath and nodded, "Okay."

They entered the house followed by Ben. Though nothing was out of place, everything felt wrong. Peter felt a shiver tickle his spine as he stepped onto the carpet. He forgot to remove his shoes like always, but his mother wasn't around to remind him. May's hand on his back guided him to the bedrooms in the back and through the door on the right door.

Everything was exactly where'd he left it nearly a week ago. The floor was scattered with toys and socks missing their counterpart and doodles on printer paper. His twin bed was unmade, the comforter strewn at the bottom with the sheets knotted together. The dark blue walls were tacked with pictures of superheroes and drawings made by Peter.

"We're just getting some clothes and whatever toys you want, Peter."

The boy nodded as his Uncle tugged open the large duffle bag he's brought before wandering off to explore the rest of the apartment. It needed to be cleared out by the end of January so that the owner could rent it to new tenants.

For the next hour, May packed clothing as Peter shifted through his mess of toys only choosing to keep a few things. Somehow, everything felt connected to his mother and he didn't want to carry any of it into a new life. In the end, Peter ended up with a deck of cards, some action figures, a pen with the words Stark Industries inscribed on the side, and a photograph of him and his mom at Coney Island grinning happily.

May had a concerned expression on her face but didn't combat her nephew's decision. "Are you ready to go, Peter?"

The child looked up with a hazed expression, having been lost in his own world, before nodding. "Yeah."

May took the stuffed bag and loaded it onto her shoulder before going to find her husband. Peter slowly found his footing. Somehow, the small boy comprehended that this would be his last time visiting the only home he'd ever known.

May called her nephew from the living room and Peter knew it was time to leave. He walked to the door, making the executive decision not to look back. Ben, his back to Peter, was holding two small packages that he shimmied into the bag of Peter's belongings—the only things he had left in life.

"Come on, baby," May said, opening the door and stepping outside.

Peter followed his Aunt onto the landing. As Ben locked up, Peter couldn't help but glance back. The door was swinging shut as he turned, and all young Peter Parker saw was a sliver of the living room drenched in light that highlighted the dust coating the empty apartment.

Wow, wasn't that just heart crushing. You would not believe how much my neck hurts from peering over my shoulder to make sure nobody saw me Googling 'child bereavement.' Lol, but I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. I've got a fluff chapter coming up next that's just really cute and then we should be hitting the exciting incident of this story arc!

The next chapter should be up by Saturday. Bye!