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Glass windows plunged up into the clouds looking like they continued on into the heavens. The smooth intricate designs of metal and glass weaved together, embracing along the planes of Stark Tower. The steps leading up to the main doors stood erect before him. Peter gripped his backpack straps, scrunching the fabric in his fingers causing his knuckles to whiten. A hand fell onto his shoulder and he turned to smile at May. His heart swelled at having her beside him.

He watched as the throngs of people entered and exited the building as if it were nothing special and hoped that someday he would be like that. He hoped that he would be able to walk in confidently, wishing a good day to the front desk person. That the awe of the great architecture would become an after thought, something he would notice only when the sun hit the glass in the right way and cause him to look up. That would be something.

She brought her arm up and around his shoulder, knocking their heads together lightly. May had done the impossible and persuaded her boss into letting her take the day off. The whole day. It was ages since she had the day off and Peter was over the moon she was spending it with him. That after her disappointment in not being at the second round, she was going to see him in the finals.

She'd practiced her speech in front of Peter before she got the nerve to give it to her boss. Like when she helped him with her speech, Peter offered the same support and after some power poses and funny imitations of her boss she perfected it. The next day she came home with a smile on her face and a day free of work. In celebration they went out to their favorite Thai restaurant and splurged a little ordering dessert for them to split. Not even the empty spot next to May could deter their mood that evening

Everything would change after today. Being at the precipice of the final rounds brought back memories from his childhood. The memories of all the laughter and love and Ben's famous brownies offset the pang that the empty seat still brought. He was thankful that he had May and thought back to the time first time he met her.

Peter woke with a start. A beeping raced against the staccato beat of his heart as he blindly looked around the room. White walls and monitors with foreign symbols across them were the first things he noticed lining the room. He brought his hand up to try and wipe the sleep from his eyes but something stopped him along the way. A whimper escaped him as a sharp pain emanated from his arm and when he investigated found a wire that joined his body to some type of bag leaking liquid.

His eyes burned when he realized he was in some type of hospital, recognizing it from when he visited his Papa. Peter didn't like hospitals. The smell of sickness hung in the air and no amount of cleaner would ever wash it away. It was a place where people went and didn't come back. At least that was what happened to his Papa. And now finding himself in one set his mind uneasy. Soon enough nurses and doctors bustled around him making sure the bandages he hadn't noticed earlier encasing his leg were clean. They poked and prodded his body and with a sharp word from one of them to stay still; Peter forwent asking any questions.

The confusion was what he remembered the most upon waking. The frustration at not knowing what happened plagued his small body. All his memories seemed jumbled up and fragmented and all he wanted was his mom. The sounds of the hospital filtered into his dark room that night and when the people stopped impeding into the space he claimed as his, he cried into the sheets.

There were flashes of images floating around in his brain just far enough away that his small arms couldn't reach out and grasp them. He thought there had been some type of accident but something in his throat would catch every time he tried to ask. They said he had to wait for the doctor but the doctor said he needed to wait for someone else and no one would let him see his parents.

Peter flipped through a picture book one of the nurses brought him when a man knocked on the door. His large stomach protruded into the room before the rest of him entered and the blonde hair that sat atop his head was shockingly white. He threw a small package onto the bed in front of Peter, who slowly reached forward and looked into the clear plastic covering the front of it. The man gave him a cookie. Peter set it back down on the bed. His stomach was acting strange, rebelling against the thought of food, and the image of eating something sweet made it clench in unrest.

He grabbed a chair folded up near the door and dropped it down by Peter's bed. Much to close to the bed. The man shuffled around and sat down, pulling out a stack of papers hidden in his coat. The flipping of those papers and the clicks of a pen were the only sounds in the room until he spoke.

"Now, Mr. Parker. Can I call you Peter?" Peter stared at him clutching the thin blanket to his chest. His parents taught him to never talk to strangers but the large body blocked his way to the door so Peter sat quiet. The man looked at him before clearing his throat and shifting in the chair.

"Okay, Peter. You are going to be placed with the Parkers. Mr. Parker was your father's brother and his wife, May, are going to be taking you in…" Peter froze at his words. The dark cloud of what they meant lurked in the back of his mind and its mist condensed and seeped into the cracks in his mind tainting any hope he had.

"Sir?"

"Don't interrupt me, young man. Didn't anyone teach you manners?" His mouth snapped shut as a sharp itch entered the back of his throat and tiny pricks stabbed at his eyes. His arm jerked forward to wipe across his face before the man could see the consequence of his words. Peter didn't want the man to think he was a baby. He was a big boy and wasn't supposed to cry anymore but the man hadn't looked up from his paperwork the whole time. Peter twisted the sheets between his small hands noticing how stiff they were. The man continued to talk but Peter couldn't listen. He knew something happened. Before it was a mere feeling Peter had, not used to being separated from his parents for so long, but this confirmed it. He swallowed back the rest of his tears saving them for later. Saving them for when he was alone.

The man stood to leave and finally glanced at Peter. Unlike the nurses he didn't try to hide his pity but Peter could see a hint of disgust there as he viewed the dried tear tracks on Peter's face. The man made him uncomfortable and Peter tried not to flinch back when the man bent over to ruffle his hair.

"Don't worry little man. You'll be fine." Peter's cheeks blushed. What did he know? The blush turned hot as he stared at the man standing beside the bed. He wouldn't even answer his questions and was just carting him off to the next person supposedly going to look after him. Peter burned holes into the sheets. The man turned to leave unperturbed by the strange boy's silence but spied the cookie sitting on the bed.

"Are you going to eat that?" Silence descended on the room. Peter gazed at the man with all the hatred he could muster and wished him to disappear. The man didn't seem to notice and shrugged as he snatched it away, laughing all the while as if they shared a joke. "I shouldn't eat it really. Heightening the blood sugar and all that. Anyway, remember to be dressed for today. Good luck."

That's how Peter's bed sheets found themselves marred with moist patches and snot. Peter burrowed himself under the covers but the condensation was making it difficult to breath. He rubbed his head methodically against the sheets not caring he was getting the wet mixture all over his hair. The back and forth rhythm on his scalp was keeping him grounded. It was an attempt at some kind of comfort, even if he was the only one who could give it.

There was a loud knock on the door that had him falling silent, though his labored breaths still rung loud through the room. His breath out was shaky as he tried to remain as quiet as he could so the person at the door wouldn't know he was in there. But they weren't bothered by the lack of response and he heard footsteps walk into his room, straight for the bed. Peter squeezed his eyes shut wishing for the second time that day that the person invading his space would disappear. He hoped it wasn't the man from earlier again.

"Peter?" A soft voice broke through his prayer. The tone was light but hesitant. "Sweetheart? My name is May Parker. I'm your aunt. Do you mind if I sit down here and we talk?"

He sniffled and peaked his eyes out from under the covers. The only clue in his line of sight was a pair of jeans. The covers came back over his head as he tucked it to his chest before nodding not caring if she saw. The bed dipped down and he tensed for a moment. It was quiet while his ragged breaths returned to normal. The woman sat there in the silence and waited for Peter to be ready. She waited for him. Everyone else in the past couple days barged in and moved about in their own time. The nurses, doctors, and man from earlier did that with no regard for Peter and talked around him, not to him. Their goal was on their tasks and getting them done before bustling on with their day. Not caring for the boy they left alone in the cold room.

The lack of fresh air caused Peter to pop his head out from his shelter. Sunlight streamed onto his face and he curled tighter into himself in an effort to offer his body protection. From there he could see the woman's shoulder, which was petite, and the tips of her long brown hair. It fell flat across her back curling slightly at the ends to cover the pattern on her yellow shirt. If she heard him move she didn't respond in any way and just kept looking ahead.

There was something about her presence that set Peter's heartbeat at ease. Maybe it was the soothing quality of her voice or the fact that she was doing this at Peter's will. Whatever it was Peter, for the first time since waking at the hospital, felt curious. The gentle scent of lavender hit his nose now that he wasn't breathing in the stale air under the covers.

"What, what's your name Miss?" He asked hesitantly, aware that she had already said. A blush graced the back of his neck at his lack of attention to her words but he wanted to make a good impression on her.

Her eyes met his and instead of the pity that had spread to everyone else's face, her eyes gleamed. The smile she shared lit up the room sending the shadows he knew were lurking at bay. Her brown eyes weren't just plain brown. They held so many different tones of chocolate and honey that Peter was instantly awed by their multitude. The colors swirled around and conveyed so much emotion he couldn't read them all. He noticed that inside the frame of her beautiful smile her teeth were overlaid against each other, all vying for front row to see the world. Still, it was a lovely smile that set Peter more at ease.

"My name is May Parker. Your father's brother is my husband. You can call me May, Aunt May, or even hey you works." She said laughing and holding her hand out across her body and let it hover there in front of him until he decided how to respond. He slid his arm out and warm fingers gripped the offered hand. He couldn't help but marvel at the size difference between them. How much gentle strength she held in her fingers and how she only used it to set him at ease.

"Hi, May. I'm Peter. Peter Parker."

"Its nice to meet you Peter. News on the street is your going to get the best patient award." His brows quirked at her statement. He didn't think that he'd been a particularly good patient at all. The people tried to avoid meeting his eyes and always seemed to be in a hurry to leave the room. She cleared her throat and he looked up at her.

"I think someone was supposed to come earlier to explain everything to you?" The question in her voice was obvious and Peter stared down at the blanket. Should he tell her about the man that visited? He didn't want her to think he was rude to him but something about her quiet way disarmed him and he found himself nodding a little to her question.

"Did you have any questions? Anything I can answer I will."

He could bring up the man, could confide what made him uneasy. The way he had been more worried about the paperwork than Peter but something unplanned came out of his mouth instead.

"Where is, um, do you know where my-my parents are?" His voice quivered toward the end. He continued to stare down, fiddling with the sheets so he didn't see May's face drain of color or the way her hands clenched in her lap.

"Sweetheart? Peter?" She asked when he remained silent. "Did no one tell you?" He remained still afraid to see, to hear, whatever was coming. Already knowing what it might be. His forehead felt clammy against his hair and he moved so he was sitting up. That way he was less vulnerable and had a better vantage point of the woman at the edge of his bed. She looked toward him and searched his face.

"Sweetheart. There was an accident. You were in the backseat and, well, your parent's didn't make it. I am so sorry, Peter." The tidal wave that had been churning during his stay finally hit the shore of his mind and sent him adrift. The wave was pressing hard on his chest, compressing his lungs smaller and smaller. The tears he shed during the past days seemed to have dried up his reservoirs because when he went to hide his face, his fingers met dry surface.

The pillow supported his head and he pulled the covers up to his chin as he nestled into the bed. The blinking monitors filled the void of his eyes and distracted him from the pressure mounting in his chest. A hand fell onto his shoulder and he flinched under the weight. It squeezed once before moving to his back. The weight reminded him of all the times when he wasn't feeling good. His dad would come into his room at night and tell him wild stories all while rubbing his back. His dad would always make sure Peter was sleeping before leaving the room but sometimes Peter would pretend so he would be awake when his dad kissed his forehead goodnight. Peter missed his daddy.

This hand was smaller, softer than his dad's. His breath hitched and the hand continued its motion. He was glad she didn't say anything. That she made no attempt to say this was all apart of a grand plan or that the hurt would lessen after a time. That's what people said when his Papa went away and he learned to loathe those kind words.

May stayed next to him. Her warmth radiated through him and the whole situation was so right, yet so wrong. It should have been his mom sitting next to him, telling him it was going to be okay. Her light tickles and strong hugs always made him feel better and he could almost smell the aroma of the homemade Thunder cake they would make together when it rained out. Peter missed his mom.

The tears were fat as they rolled down his cheeks and into the deep set crevasses of his scrunched up face before absorbing into the bedding. They stayed like that until Peter was worn out and lay languid on the bed. The hand was motionless but sat against his back in stillness. His eyes closed and he fell into a restless sleep, thankful that someone was beside him.

When he awoke the room was empty. He tore the bedding away and leaped from the bed, not stopping though his sore muscles and scraps tinged from the unmediated movement. The leg was wrapped in a hard cast but his foot protested the pressure in its confines. His hands trembled as he checked the whole room finding even the closet empty. Had the woman been a dream?

Small hands wrapped around the silver pole that held the bags dripping liquids into him. After navigating through the room, getting caught on some ridges in the floor, and peaking his head out of the door he rushed out. His head whipped down both directions in the hallway and the only thing that met his eye was people in scrubs. On a whim he headed left and scurried away from the room. The pacing was off because of the cast but he hobbled along the corridor. One of the doctors looked at him funny but he paid her no mind. All his focus was on finding the woman who comforted him earlier. On making sure she was real.

He turned the corner and collapsed against the pole when his eyes fixated on a bright speck of yellow. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and he struggled to maintain a grip on the metal, which was digging into his shoulder. The muscles in his legs weren't used to so much movement and he felt like he was walking in honey. But he willed himself to keep going. The woman's frame was blurry from so far away and he sped up hoping his vision would clear. Her back was turned to him until the person motioned to her and her neck craned to see what was behind her.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the little boy coming down the hall. He was clad only in a too big hospital gown, which was falling down his shoulder leaving it open to the cool air. His hand was barely holding onto the IV pole dragging behind him. A small leg peaked out from beneath the gown and his other was armored in a cast that looked huge compared to his petite body. He was limping slightly and May was stunned at the determination engraved in his face. Peter stopped to catch his breath and all but collapsed to the floor, the IV pole holding him up. Peter could see the yellow silhouette moving toward him. Her face went blurry again but even though she was closer now he still couldn't see.

"I- I thought… You were gone." He whispered hoping she would hear. She dropped to her knees in front of him so they were the same height. Her hands came up to brush away the tears that blocked his vision and he could see the wetness in her eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. The doctors needed to talk to me." She raised her hands again in a slow motion but before she could move them any farther Peter let go of his tower and rammed his body into hers. His arms wrapped around her neck and he inhaled the lavender scent. May's hug was warm and secure. And he felt the grief and confusion that had swept him away leave for the first time in days.

That was the first time he met May and was one of only a lifetime of loving hugs she would give to him. Peter couldn't help but smile at her and thank whomever it was up there that he had found May. Or maybe it was that she had found him. He leaned into her soft body and felt her lips brush against his hair.

"You're going to do amazing sweetheart and I'll be there the whole time."

"Thanks, May. I love you." He clasped their hands together, the sizing between them much different than it was at the hospital that day and he was still awed by how much strength she wielded in her now smaller than his hands. They climbed the steps marveling at the beautiful design and entered the building that housed his future.

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