Summary: May Parker receives what remains of her niece's belongings after the Incident.
stitches
The box weighed heavy in her shaking hands.
May had carried it all the way from Hell's Kitchen. From the rubble that had once been Hedy's home since college, to her own apartment, emptier with its own tragedy.
The funeral had been a week ago, after aid workers uncovered the body. It wasn't until now they finally released the personal belongings of those who had lived in the building. May didn't know why; they only cited the search and removal of "contraband material", whatever that meant. An alien thing had destroyed the building, so May assumed it had to be something to do with it.
It was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. May had half a mind to throw the box in a dark corner and never look at it again, never relive the memories it brought. But she couldn't. She couldn't risk Peter finding it and letting him deal with that discovery on his own, knowing she hid it. She should take care of it now, before he got home from school.
It took her a solid half hour to find the will to open that box. In the meantime, May did what she usually resorted to when avoiding difficult tasks, which was doing chores. The dishes, the laundry, vacuuming, even made some coffee for herself. Like she had to present a clean home for the memories of Hedy and Mia that lied within the flimsy cardboard box.
She didn't know what else to do. And then, standing in a clean apartment, May had nothing left to do but to open that damn box. So she did.
The kitchen was silent except for the sound of the cardboard flaps scraping together as she pulled them open. One at a time, May pulled out what remained of two lives cut short.
A purple sweater neatly folded, once Hedy's favorite; a pair of cracked glasses, Mia's, which had fallen when she collapsed in their home; a couple of old records and tapes which had survived with little damage. An encyclopedia on bees. Hedy's apron for work. A pair of shoes, well worn. Some jewelry, in a little baggie.
And, at the bottom, Stitch.
The sight of it made her heart lurch to a stop. For some reason, that was what punched a hole through her chest. Holding the toy gingerly, May could still remember helping Peter pick it out from a storefront, something to give to Mia while she had been stuck in the hospital. Now it was well worn and loved — and covered in dark stains. It wasn't until May's hand came away rust-colored did she realize it was dried blood.
They had not told May how Hedy died. But they had said where they found the body. In what was left of a child's bedroom.
May tried not to imagine what her last moments must have been like.
And then she was turning to the sink, the faucet gushing cold water. May felt like she was running on autopilot as she held Stitch under the water, soaking him in. She pulled out a bottle of soap and a brush. And started to scrub.
And scrub and scrub and scrub. Until the patches of rust started to melt away, the sink filling up with pink bubbles, a morbid bubble bath for a dead little girl's toy.
May had to remind herself to be gentle as she went over the floppy ears, worn over the years. Too hard and it would tear and she'd ruin everything. She couldn't do that. This was Mia's favorite. She'd be so upset.
Stitch became heavy with water in her hands, sagging, his little black eyes shining wetly. The wide smile, naive and oblivious to what he meant.
May didn't even know what she was going to do with it when she was done. All she knew was that she could not leave the toy like that, covered in blood. Then she was filled with some insane notion that he had to be nice and clean and fluffy again for when Mia came back. Because she had to. After everything, she had to.
But she couldn't. She was never coming back.
None of them were. Not Ben. Not Richard. Or Mary. Not Hedy. And not Mia.
They were gone. One by one, taken away, all too young. Too soon.
What did she have left?
"May?"
She looked up in surprise — blinking away tears she didn't know she was crying to stare at Peter, standing in the doorway. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder, bruised knuckles he quickly tried to hide under too-long sleeves. She didn't even hear the front door opening. Peter's eyes were wide, face pale, shoulders tensing at the sight before him. His eyes drifted down from her face, to her hands, back to her face again.
May sensed the moment before Peter started to cry; she knew her boy well, knew that sudden fragile look in his eyes, the hitch of his breath, the moment before the tears began to fall.
And Stitch was already falling into the sink, her arms wrapping around Peter, pulling him to her just as a sob wracked its way out of his throat.
Her hands, wet and soapy pink, ran through Peter's hair as his sobs filled her shoulder. He clutched at May with a desperate strength that surprised her, but it just had her holding him tighter, whispering soothing words in a cracked voice; rocking him back and forth, like she used to when he was four-years-old.
May Parker had lost so much. But she still had her boy.
A/N: based on a tumblr ask I got about character/story information that never made it into my fic. This was regarding how Hedy died.