Oh. My. God. We're here. We did it. THE LAST CHAPTER! I would like to thank each and every one of you who is here reading this right now. This was my first story on fanfiction. It took me 4 years to finish. 100,000 words, 150,000 views as of right now. I am so, so grateful to this entire site and everyone on it. I'm going to be honest; I am crying right now because this work is my baby. And now she's coming to an end. So, without further ado, welcome to the last chapter of "Horizon at the End of an Ocean."
Disclaimer: You already know
One year. Fifty two weeks. Three hundred and sixty five days. Technically. This past year had felt like an eternity. The idea that the Earth had only taken one trip around the sun while Peter's world had crumbled time and time again was almost impossible to fathom. That couldn't have possibly been true, yet here he was. One year later. The last Parker left.
May Parker died on a rainy Tuesday. July 18th, to be exact. That date was etched into Peter's mind for eternity. Not a day went by that he didn't think of it. How could he not? A swift slip of tires on wet cement, and more than just their 2002 Toyota had been crushed.
In all honesty, Peter only vaguely remembered the actual day of her death.
The accident had been replaying circles in his mind since the instant it happened, giving him nightmares and flashbacks, even during moments of perfect contentment. He remembered waking up in the hospital barely able to breath, with Tony waiting right by his side. Tony had told him what had happened, and his heart rate spiked so much that the nurses had rushed in to check his monitor. He had to practically be dragged from the hospital once he was discharged, too afraid he would never see his aunt again. Then, he made his way back to the tower.
But that was all before.
After was a time full of sympathetic looks, panic attacks, and an overwhelming feeling of uncertainty. Not knowing how long he would be able to stay with Tony, what he would do without his aunt, how he could survive after what had happened. Everything beyond that day had been a whirlwind, barely having slowed down ever since.
All of that, yet he couldn't remember what had happened on that day. He had breakfast with Tony, and he had gotten the call as he sat across the booth from him at a Waffle House in Queens. The second the words left Tony's mouth, telling him that his aunt was gone, his whole body went numb. And from then on, he felt nothing. Remembered nothing. He couldn't figure out if that was for the best or not.
That had been a year ago today.
Peter didn't want to leave his room. The second he opened his eyes, he was hit with a wave of grief and exhaustion. Even the act of rolling over and pulling his blanket back up made bile rise in his throat and his head spin. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to recenter himself, though it did nothing to stop the shiver from rising through him. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized how much he had to.
If there's one thing May wouldn't want for him, it was this.
He dragged himself out of bed, practically swaying on his feet once he left his bed. Knowing he only had so much energy and motivation, he opted out of brushing his teeth and changing his clothes. Instead, he headed straight to the common area, before curling up on the couch instead. It wasn't much of an improvement to before, but he counted it as a win that he was at least in a public space.
He wasn't sure how long he laid there, drifting in and out of sleep, before Tony found him. The man wordlessly moved Peter's legs and slid onto the end of the couch. He aimlessly scrolled through his phone, not looking up, but the firm comforting hand on Peter's arm told him more than words could. Tony was here. He couldn't lose himself again. He wouldn't.
"May…" His voice cracked on the name, though he forced himself to press on. "I want to see her today."
"Of course." He responded almost instantly, practically throwing aside his phone to give Peter his full attention. "Let me know when, okay?"
"Can we go now?" He asked, before he lost his nerve. "I just… I don't know if I'll be able to do it any later."
"Go get your shoes on. I'll get my keys."
Not even five minutes later, Peter was in the passenger seat of his car, while Tony slid into the driver's side. The second they pulled out of the garage, he wanted to beg Tony to go back. Instantly, his heartrate picked up at all the stimulation. Not only was he fighting the urge to crawl back under his covers and pretend he hadn't lost his aunt this time last year, every time Tony so much as flipped on his turn signal, Peter was gripping the sides of his seat. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to keep an eye on every aspect of the road at once. If a car pulled up next to them, Peter leaned towards the window to make sure they didn't get too close. He couldn't risk another car accident.
He thought he was being diligent. He and Tony had passed through an intersection, when he saw a car heading towards them from the left. It was just like with May. He opened his mouth to say something, but his chest was caught in his throat, and he couldn't form words. He wanted to yell out, warn Tony, do something, prevent this from happening again, but he was paralyzed with fear.
The car stopped at the red light. They didn't even pass the line. Peter still couldn't breathe.
After what had to have been the longest car ride of Peter's life, Tony parked on the side of the street in front of the cemetery. Now that he was here though, Peter couldn't decide where he'd rather be – in the car, or through that gate.
He sat in his seat, staring out the window and towards the small tree in the distance, which he knew was near the graves of May and Ben. Tony, to his credit, didn't say anything and let Peter sit there as long as he needed. After a few deep breaths and small self-pep talks, he was ready. His hands shook as he reached for his seatbelt, though after only three tries, he was able to get himself unbuckled. His legs trembled as he stepped out of the car, though he was relieved that he didn't need any help standing. He couldn't take that embarrassment on top of everything else.
His body moved to the graves as if on autopilot, though he had only been here a few times.
He pushed through the rickety metal gate and followed the few old cobblestones until he hit the grass. The day was warm, as it was June, but luckily hadn't reached the point of being uncomfortable. There was a nice breeze hitting his exposed arms as he made his way to the familiar spot. As soon as he reached May's grave, he sunk to his knees, no longer able to stand.
"Hi May." His voice came out practically a whisper. He heard Tony back away behind him to give him space and privacy, which he appreciated. "I miss you. I hope you know, wherever you are, that I love you so much and I think of you every day. You have to know that. Every time I get a good grade on a test, or make a good save as Spider-Man, or work up the courage to talk to MJ, I think of you. My first instinct is to run home and tell you, even still. One year later. I can't believe it's been one year without you, May. I don't know how I did it. How I'll keep doing it. I lost my parents, and then Ben, and then you. I don't know how much more I can take. But I do hope that whatever happens, you're proud of me. And I… I just miss you a lot. Happy one year anniversary, I guess."
Though he had said everything he wanted to say, he still couldn't work up the courage to leave. Surprisingly, Tony came up next to him and also began to talk.
"Hi, May. I know it's been a while, but we miss you. Peter here is… he's fantastic. Excelling at school, making waves at decathlon. God, you'd be so proud. You raised such a great kid. The best one, actually. Thank you for trusting me to take care of him, and we think of you every day."
He took a seat right next to Peter and they sat there in silence. Peter looked around, taking everything in and ignoring the heavy weight that rested in the air. May would've loved a day like this, where the sun was shining against their skin, keeping them warm from the inside out. She always insisted she loved the snow, but he noticed how she would light up on a nice day like this. She would break out her mustard colored tank top and bring him to the grocery store to get all the fruits that were now in season.
After a while longer, he decided he could leave. As much as he wasn't prepared to abandon May yet again, he knew there was nothing else for him to do here, and he was ready to curl back in his bed for the rest of the night and indulge in his self-pity.
He stood up, albeit hesitantly, so Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him back to the car. He was so worn out and exhausted, that he didn't even protest another car ride. He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, trying just to wait it out. Yet, when they pulled into the garage, he still sighed with relief and mentally kissed the ground. There would be no car accidents for them again. At least, not today.
As soon as they stepped onto their floor, however, Peter had stopped feeling like himself. He glanced around, as if in a daze, trying to place himself. Having dissociated before, he knew that's what was happening, but he didn't know how to stop it for the time being. He drifted over to the couch, Tony following close behind, clearly uneasy at Peter's glazed look. Peter tripped over one of his loose sneakers on the floor and Tony caught his arm to keep him steady. As soon as Tony's hand rested on Peter's arm, all of his thoughts and emotions flew back into his body, the touch having broken his trance. He practically fell on the couch overwhelmed.
Looking around at Tony and the tower, he began to panic. What had become so familiar to him over the past few months now became horribly strange to him again, and all he wanted was a home he knew he could never return to. He wanted his rickety bunk bed that he and Ned would hang from, even though Peter almost broke his arm. He wanted a kitchen filled with the smell of burnt Thai food that May made herself. He wanted his aunt back, even though he knew she was gone. It felt like all of his progress flew out the window as he sat there and cried on the couch.
"I miss her." Was all he could manage to say.
"I know." Tony told him, taking a seat across from him.
"I want my aunt, Tony. I miss her so, so much. I want her to be with me when I start senior year, and help me apply to college, and see me graduate. I need my aunt."
"I'm sorry, kid." Tony seemed at a loss for words, trying to comfort Peter, but they both knew right now it would be no use. Peter had worked himself up into a spiral and couldn't stop the words of a scared kid from flowing out of his mouth.
"I don't know what to do."
"We can figure it out."
"Tony." Peter sobbed, hugging himself tightly, trying to catch a breath. "How am I supposed to live in a world without her? How do I keep doing this? I barely got through one year, how long until it gets easier? I can't do this anymore."
"Peter." Tony reached out and gripped his shoulders, trying to look in his eyes. "I need you to breathe for me. I know this is hard. Trust me, I know. But you're hyperventilating and I need you to breathe."
Peter tried to repeat his exaggerated breaths, but every time his mind began to wander, he felt that familiar bubble in his throat, that made him unable to suck in a much needed breath. Before he could get a handle on it, he faced another issue. Barely having any time to react, he spun out of Tony's grasp, leaning over, and throwing up all over the hardwood floor. Tears and snot ran down his face, now with bile added to the mix. He cried harder with embarrassment, not knowing what to do.
No longer as cautious as before, Tony reached out and pulled Peter into a tight hug. Not caring that his shirt was now covered in various bodily fluids, he rubbed Peter's back trying to calm him down. He continued to exaggerate his breathing, until Peter finally managed to suck in a deep breath and regulate the expansion of his lungs. Now that that had passed, he felt himself calm down more, until he was practically asleep on Tony's shoulder.
"It gets easier, kid. I promise it does." Tony whispered the reassurance.
Peter didn't remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knew, he was blinking himself awake from curled up deep within the couch cushions. He looked down and realized he was still gross from his panic attack earlier, so despite his throbbing headache, he walked himself to his bathroom and started a shower. Once that was done and he had clean clothes on, he felt much better than he had earlier, so he set off to find Tony. He found him in the kitchen, making himself food. Peter assumed it was lunch, but a quick glance at the clock told him it was already past five o'clock.
"You showered! Are you feeling better?" Tony asked, looking up from his pot of sauce as Peter came around.
"Yeah, a little." He admitted with a smile.
That seemed to reassure Tony, as his shoulders sagged with relief and some of the tension left his body. "That's great. I'm-" He started to say, turning around, but his sleeve caught on the handle of the pan next to him, sending it towards the ground.
"Oh, dad, watch out!" Peter called out, managing to catch the pan before it hit the ground. Luckily, this one hadn't had anything in it, but an accident still wouldn't have been pleasant.
And then it hit him. Peter had called him dad. Again. Though this time… he didn't correct himself. And, for the first time, he didn't want to. He let it hang in the air, which Tony obviously noticed, if his fond smile was anything to go by.
Not commenting on it, Tony instead said, "Good save, kid." The sentiment was clear.
They worked in sync, finishing up their cooking, until they had a solid amount of spaghetti prepared. It actually looked pretty good, which meant his and Tony's skills had improved since last time. They ate in companiable silence, until Peter suggested they do something. They had a quick discussion about options as they cleaned up, until they finally reached the agreement of watching a movie. He didn't understand why they bothered to talk about it, when that's what they always decided on anyway, but he didn't mind.
Once everything was done, they took a seat on the couch to choose their entertainment for the night. Peter was trying to decide between rewatching his favorite Star Wars movie and one of his old favorite animations from when he was a kid, when he noticed Tony being uncharacteristically quiet. He kept glancing at his phone and towards the elevator, clearly bothered.
"What's up?" Peter asked him, pausing his deliberating.
"I'll be right back." Tony stood up, not elaborating.
Perplexed, Peter waited. A few minutes later, Tony returned, something clasped tightly in his hands. He took a seat back on the couch, laying what Peter could now see was an envelope, across his lap.
"Peter… I have something. Something good. But I don't know if this is the time for it. I have been sitting on it for the past few days, trying to think of the perfect moment but… I don't know. I know I'm being vague, but would it help to have something good for today?"
Peter stared at the manilla envelope in Tony's hands. He held it so gingerly, as if afraid it would break. Tony was never that careful with anything. He had wads of official documents shoved in his lab drawers and a bucket full of broken coffee cups to prove it. Which meant that not only did he have good news… he had important news. And it was in that folder.
Peter's heart sped up rapidly as he realized that it could only be one thing. This was it. "Show me. Tony, show me it, please."
Tony bit his lip anxiously, before thrusting it into Peter's hands. "No. I want you to open it."
Peter's knee bounced as he carefully flipped over the envelope and slid his thumb under the seal. He pulled out the paper, the words staring boldly back at him. Black swirly font told him what he had been waiting for for months. A year, even. His eyes watered, and when he looked up at Tony, he could see his face mirrored his. He placed it to the side as carefully as ever, before launching himself at the man in front of him. Tony was quick to receive his hug, his arms wrapping tightly around the boy in front of him.
One year. Fifty two weeks. Three hundred and sixty five days.
Certificate of Adoption: Peter Parker-Stark.
He had finally reached it. The horizon at the end of his ocean.