Wow! So excited about the feedback :) It's keeping me motivated.

This should be the last chapter that's a bit all over the place structure-wise. The jumble-ness is an ode to how quickly thoughts and feelings change in my experience with the grieving process.

Don't forget to drop a review if you enjoy!


They arrived.

Peter still didn't know the name of the woman driving him around he didn't really care to. He did wonder why he'd even gone with her. The car ride had given him time to consider. He could have run. Heck, he could open the car door right now and be gone before she could put it in park. Where would he go? Ned's? It seemed the obvious choice, but he knew in the long run his friend's parents could stop this…this whatever it was. Was he a ward of the state? An orphan from all family now? What happened to the apartment? What happened to May's things? What about May?

Where else was there to go? Was this a problem Tony could help with? What help was there? May was gone.

"We're here." She commented, and Peter blinked, realizing she'd parked the car. They were outside the city, not by far. One of the many dense suburbs, parked in front of an unassuming house. "Come on." She prompted, and Peter moved robotically, out of the car, backpack over one shoulder as he took his suitcase from the backseat and followed her inside.

A middle-aged woman greeted them at the door, she had a friendly smile, but it was reserved, trying to be pleasant but also aware of the trauma Peter had faced.

He was guided in, the new woman suggesting he leave his things by the door for now. Peter complied, still in some level of shock as he was moved to sit on a small sofa while the two women took up similar seats in the would be cozy living room.

"Peter. This is Emma Houts. She works with our agency for emergency placement. You'll be staying with her until we can determine a more permanent living arrangement." Neither woman had been unkind to him, both had and would prove to be well seasoned in events such as these.

He nodded. What else could he say? He could argue, throw a fit, what would it change? May was gone.

He blinked. "What's gunna happen to May?"

The two women shared a glance. Everyone handled loss differently so while Peter seemed to have himself well put together they knew it was only a matter of time before the loss truly sank in. The first women- he still didn't remember her name, shifted. "I will be looking to arrangements, it's our understanding that your Aunt did not have a will on file. If there are no funds or life insurance policies, the state will handle expenses until the estate can be handled."

Peter knew there wasn't money. He and May weren't poor but certainly didn't have a ton in the bank. He might not know the actual number, but he knew May had still been paying off Uncle Ben's funeral and there was no life insurance policy, at least he was pretty sure. Uncle Ben didn't have one and if May had decided to get one suddenly afterwards he was pretty sure she would have told him. He was the only one keeping a major secret in the house. Not her.

"Do I have to stay here?" Again, the first woman- no you know what? Sue. Her name was Sue. He was going to call her that at least. In his head.

"We understand you've got friends, but the state is now responsible for your care and we need to ensure you're in an approved home. That's why you'll stay with Emma until something can be sorted out. You've got your phone, right? We encourage you to call your friends, we're not looking to cut you off from your life Peter, this is a big change, yes things will be different but we're here to do our very best to help you. I don't want you to worry about that right now. You are safe, we are going to help you take care of everything." Her words were kind but well-practiced.

Peter didn't think she was lying but she certainly wasn't someone he instantly trusted. What Sue thought, and what he thought were in his best interest could be two very, very different things.

Still, he could only numbly nod as she moved to stand. Sue offered a simple, "I am sorry for your loss Peter." And with a nod to Emma she took her leave.

"Peter." Emma gave after a few moments, "Would you like something to eat? To drink?" He shook his head mutely and she didn't press the issue. "Alright. Why don't I show you to your room, you must be exhausted." He wasn't, was he? Maybe. It certainly wasn't late, school would just be letting out. His phone had stopped buzzing at some point and he was certain the battery had died but he didn't care. The one person in all the world he wanted to speak with, would never be on the other end of the line again.

Stiffly he'd listen to calm directions. She gave him the option of carrying his things and he did. Up the stairs they went to a room in neutral tones. It looked like a hotel- not that he'd stayed in many himself (outside of Germany), but he'd seen enough of them on tv. Just neutral a perfectly made bed and no personal touches. It wasn't a bad room, but it wasn't his.

Emma motioned for him to set his things down and he dropped both on the bed. "Peter, my duty is to keep you safe while things are sorted out and that means ensuring that I know what has been brought into my house. I'm going to help you put your things away okay?"

He was hardly thinking now but he did manage a weak protest, "I can do it."

"I insist." Of course her reasons were simple, Peter could have brought any sort of contraband into her house, she'd been doing this long enough to know to check for weapons, drugs or worse. Peter had protested but when she pressed he relented without another word as she opened his backpack first. Books and notepads were set out on the little writing desk and for good reason she found nothing of interest or concern.

Moving to his suitcase she unzipped it, showing him where he could put his limited personal belongings. The laptop and phone charger went to the desk, toiletries to a little basket on top of a small dresser before she started on his clothing.

His clothing.

The suit.

His eyes went wide with realization about the moment she started pulling out the blue and red fabric. He lunged forward, snatching it away and curling it against his chest, hidden as much as he could under his arms. "Peter?!" She questioned, clearly caught off guard. This wasn't her first rodeo, but she hadn't expected such a move for fabric.

He took a half step back, "Sorry…Sorry it's…they're…. just pajamas." What had Mr. Stark called them? "Underoos…"

Well, Emma was certain it was just fabric, nothing in the seemingly flimsy material and she knew when to push and when to cave. "Alright dear. I understand." He was at that awkward phase between child and adult and clearly from his books he wasn't the most…manly. Childish pajamas were likely a carryover from his tragic background what with losing his parents early and such. She'd seen his file.

"Why don't you put that away in the dresser?" He nodded, moving to do so, what else could he do? It had been a risk to leave the suit behind, but it was a risk bringing it too. Stuffing it as far back as possible he allowed her to hand him the rest of his clothing, she pulled each piece out and refolded it before passing it over to the teen.

When all was done she moved the suitcase over to an unoccupied corner of the room. "Peter? Would you like to talk about anything?" She questioned as she waited at the doorway.

Peter shook his head. There wasn't- what he wanted, what he needed- it was impossible to get back. "Alright dear. If you need anything I'll be right down the hall." She offered before mostly closing his door, leaving it open just a crack.

Peter instantly sank to the bed, his head was in his hands and his back bowed forward, hunched over.

May was gone. She was gone.

His breathing came quickly, short little hiccups of air- the precursor to sobs, wretched sounds from his soul tearing itself apart. Tears would fall into his hands, wiped away onto his jeans, the hem of his shirt, the collar or sleeve. There were tissues on the desk, unfortunately he couldn't for the life of him muster up the strength to stand and reach them.

Emma didn't return, she'd seen far too many in her life. Some needed a caring heart close while they grieved, others- those stronger or who thought they were, grieved alone, exactly how they felt with the world right now. Alone in it. If Peter needed, she'd be there, but she wouldn't force her sympathy on him.

The sounds were heart wrenching, hollow, a tidal wave of emotion that finally let itself go. He shook, fingers curled against fabric. He felt tense and boneless all at once. His stomach felt empty and hard. Oh God…May.

Peter didn't know how long he cried, he simply woke the next morning, throat sore, chest aching and head pounding. His nose was stuffy too, a reminder of what happened.

Was he done crying? He wasn't certain, but he didn't feel like crying right now. Hands were still shaking as he rolled-half stumbling, from bed. Ned. He needed to talk to Ned, to hear his voice. He moved across the room. Shivering even though it wasn't cold in his room. He fumbled with his phone but did manage to get it on the charger, letting it boot up to a stream of texts and missed calls. From Ned, Ned's parents, from MJ and others at school. He felt his breathing hitching all over again and set the phone down. He couldn't not yet, he wasn't ready.

"Peter?" Came a call from down the stairs, "Are you up?" He wanted to say no, or rather, to not answer, but his phone began ringing again the moment it was fully booted and there was no way to hide that. He silenced his ringer and left the device to charge before heading out of his room. Tense and sore as he moved to head down the stairs, following sounds to the kitchen.

"Good morning Peter. I'm making breakfast. Do you have anything against bacon or eggs?" She wondered unsure of his preferences. She could just as soon make a veggie or even vegan meal.

"That's fine." He still didn't feel like eating but there was no denying the emptiness within.

She nodded and went back to her task, speaking over his shoulder, "There should be two Advil and some water there on the island." Peter saw them, he wasn't sure if they'd do anything given his mutation, but if crying could make him feel this bad, maybe regular medication could make him feel better. He took them with ease and a sip of water to follow-murmuring his thanks to Emma.

"Have you spoken with anyone?" She wondered casually as she set a few pieces of bread in the toaster.

Peter shook his head and she glanced over catching the tail end of the gesture.

"Is there anyone you would like me to call for you? A friend maybe?"

He sucked in a breath, crossing his arms on the island countertop, it had high barstool seats and he was able to rest his chin against his arms. "Ned…I have…I need to…Can he…can he come over?"

"Ned is a friend…from school?" She wondered but was also establishing. Peter seemed like a good kid but that wasn't always the case. She had to be caring but cautious. When Peter nodded she nodded back, "I would need to speak with his parents first. If you're close, I'm sure they'd like to come visit as well. It would be supervised." Ned's family couldn't take Peter, but they could visit.

Pete nodded and Emma suggested he call his friend after breakfast, setting a full plate down in front of the teen as he sat up straighter. "Eat what you can dear." And despite feeling as though he should be swearing off food, his hunger would get the better of him, his metabolism needing constant and filling meals to avoid giving him any trouble with his powers.

After, Emma said not to worry, she'd do the dishes, Pete didn't even offer to help, he didn't have it in him right now. Instead he turned and headed back up the stairs. Staring at the phone for several long minutes before drawing in a deep breath and picking it up. He wanted to have the control necessary to make the call, but he didn't. The mere thought of speaking about the situation had him giving little stuttered breaths that threatened more tears.

Wiping his face with the back of his hand he instead opened the text box. He couldn't handle reading everything Ned had sent and so he focused only on sending his message.

P: Can you come? With your parents?

N: Yes. Where are you?

Peter blinked, realizing he didn't really know. Moving to the window he was able to see the mailbox numbers and the street name at the crosswalk a few doors down.

P: 23006 Wick…I don't know more. Can you find it?

He didn't want to have to speak with Emma again, not right now, not when he was trembling again. Ned, his ever-loving guy in the chair used a combination of google search and the phone tracking app he and Pete shared in case either of them lost their phones. Once he had the information he rushed downstairs to let his mother know, having stayed home from school given the tragedy.

N: On our way. Half an hour.

P: Thanks

N: Anything you need me to bring?

Was there? Yes probably, so much but above all.

P: No, just hurry. Please.

He didn't want to be alone, to be the only one in the house with these feelings of pain and loss.

Emma called him back downstairs after a few more minutes and Peter answered when she asked if his friend was on the way. "His mom…maybe his dad is coming too…I'm not sure."

She nodded, "That's alright. Do you have a number where I can talk to her on the way? Just to make things easier when they arrive?" Peter did, he had Mrs. Leeds number and wrote it down for her, after Emma suggested he take a shower, letting him know there was a fresh towel hanging and toiletries if he'd forgotten anything he needed in the bathroom as well.

Peter nodded, climbing the stairs and doing as instructed while Emma spoke with Mrs. Leeds.

Ned and his parents arrived soon after and, in a way, there was some sort of familiarity and that brought him peace. It shouldn't be, but it was; this was familiar because they'd been there after the news of Uncle Ben's murder. Still. Mrs. Leeds had kind words. Mr. Leeds a strong nod for Peter and Ned. Ned was there.

Apparently, there was already a gofundme started. Mr. Leeds didn't sound confident in using the term, but Ned bobbed his head to make everyone aware that he was correct. Peter's school and May's work were all chipping in, a fair amount already being raised with more pledges on the way. The coming days would see May buried, a modest but appropriate ceremony all paid for out of said account and with others handling the arrangements and only a question or two for Peter on what May would have wanted. That would be just fine with Peter. He wasn't ready to make all those arrangements. Was anyone? It would be hard to imagine, to really think about how someone could hold it together to plan a funeral, a burial, the wake after wards. Why did that responsibility fall on the people who were grieving the most? It was stupid and yet, Peter would find that it was a good distraction, kept him from spiraling in his own thoughts.

Of course, all of that was to come and was simply something Mrs. Leeds was letting him know, everything would be taken care of.

"Can-" Peter's voice cut into the conversation for the first time. Everyone in the living room falling silent and giving him their total attention. He wasn't used to that, "Can Ned and I go upstairs?" He wondered. He knew they were trying to make him feel better, letting him know the plan and how he didn't have to worry, but he simply didn't want to deal with it at the moment.

Mrs. Leeds and Emma shared a look before the latter nodded, "Of course dear." Peter was up the stairs with Ned fumbling to keep up a moment later.

"Dude-"

"You have to take the suit." Of all the things Ned expected Pete to say the moment the bedroom door was shut, that wasn't one of them.

"What?"

"You…you have to take the suit!" He whisper-shouted. "She…she went through my luggage, she almost saw it. I can't…I can't risk…" It was a focus. May, May's death continued to play in the back of his mind, his heart ached but humans coped in different ways and focusing on keeping his biggest secret- well, a secret, was taking the forefront.

"Pete…you're not…I don't think you're thinking clearly." Ned felt for his friend but could see his panic.

"No, Ned. I am. They…they said this is temporary. Where am I going to go Ned? What if they ship me off somewhere else and they find the suit? What happens then?"

"Dude…Listen okay?" Ned's hands moved in a downward gesture as if he could calm the other teen simply with the motion. "I don't know? This…this sucks. But…have you called Mr. Stark? He's gotta…like…he'll do something right?" He sounded worried and hopeful, had Peter already tried that last night?

The look on the superhero's features gave Ned the answer. No. No he hadn't tried that. Why hadn't he called Mr. Stark? Ned was right, wasn't he? Iron Man would not want his technology just out there at risk…Iron Man was well…was his mentor, right? Sure, they hadn't seen each other in what… months? Mr. Stark was just really busy and Peter had been doing a good job? The older man was dealing with the Accords and all that. That's all.

He nodded, "Ye-yeah good idea." It was.

Ned offered a small smile, "Hey, it's why I'm your guy in the chair." Peter returned the tentative smile. Funny how life worked like that. Mourning wasn't a constant, there were moments when it hit him, when he hurt, but others, like now, where it subsided, where he could almost pretend, forget that he would never see her again.

The rest of the visit Ned distracted him, catching him up, MJ had apparently punched Flash after Peter had been taken out of class abruptly. The teen had made a comment and upon learning of the truth MJ had, in Ned's words, literally made him eat a knuckle sandwich. Talking with Ned made him feel better than he had since he'd left school, but it couldn't last. Eventually they were called back downstairs. A hug given by Mrs. Leeds, a hand on his shoulder from Ned's dad with a look and a nod for his best friend that was returned.

Mrs. Leeds promised everything would be handled, and it would, but that night Peter had something to do. Fingers curled around his cell phone, pacing in his temporary bedroom long after Emma had made them both dinner that night.

Was this an emergency? He could put on his mask and simply ask Karen, tell her it was an emergency and to contact Mr. Stark. But...but it wasn't, was it? It was like coming home to find out you'd been robbed. You needed the police but it wasn't something you called 911 for, or had to. They didn't have to come in with sirens wailing. Right? He wasn't in immediate danger; his life wasn't at risk. Mr. Stark had been pretty clear about the reasons why and why not to use that emergency line. This…this didn't qualify, there were worse situations, right?

Steeling himself, he instead scrolled down his contacts, Happy. He would call Happy. For a moment he considered a text, as he had with Ned but before he could change his mind he'd already hit send. Some part of him was praying for an answer, praying that Ned was right and Happy would help him, that Happy would tell Tony and Tony would tell him what to do. What to do with the suit, with his life. With everything.

It rang out. That…that wasn't ideal, but it wasn't the first time he'd left a message for Happy right? Especially after they'd come to an agreement about his limits, the other always got back to him and it was a bit late to be calling.

"Hey…Hey Happy." He sucked in a breath, completely unprepared, "Could you, can you get this message to Mr. Stark? I uh…I have a question about the suit." He paused for a moment, a natural thing, as if he were somehow waiting for the call to be transferred but of course it wasn't, this was merely a voicemail.

Realizing he'd spaced for a moment he fumbled to continue, "I uh…I really need some help. See…May-" His voice cracked, he'd managed the call well until that point, but just saying her name out loud broke him, "May's gone…" There were stuttered breaths and it took him several tries to say that, struggling to keep his voice down so Emma didn't over hear. "And I'm somewhere...I…I don't know. They say I can't…I need to…Mr-Mr. Stark I don't know what to do. Please…please call me back I- I have the suit and I…I don't know what's gunna-gunna happen, please…May's gone. I don't wanna be alone. I do-"

The emotionless beep indicated he'd reached the end of the recording time, the call disconnecting as he hit the button, dropping it to the floor as he sank down to the ground beside his bed. Another night spent crying himself to sleep.