A/N: O.K, I suck at titles, but I wanted to write a short(ish) story for the Festive Season. Enjoy!

Cheers, Apteryx

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A Christmas Tale

Chapter One.

It was one of the snowiest and coldest Decembers that New York could remember. A real contrast to the previous summer, which had been hot and muggy in the extreme; when people wished for cooler weather, maybe some ice... Well, now they had it.

Peter Parker struggled with bags and parcels as he left the subway at Forest Hills. The blast of frozen air that hit him as he climbed the steps made him gasp - that was worse; now he had a deep lung-full of the frigid air that made him cough and his eyes start to water. Luckily, as he grabbed at a slipping parcel, half-blinded by tears, his spider-sense warned him of a patch of ice he was about to step on. As he avoided it, he thought of others who weren't so lucky; his Aunt May was one. She had slipped on some ice earlier in the week and had cracked a bone in her hip. She was doing well for her age but was mostly annoyed with herself, for inconveniencing her nephew - who had temporarily moved back in with her to look after her - and her neighbours so close to Christmas.

"Peter?"

With a sigh, Peter stopped staring out the window at the parked cars encrusted with snow, and pulled the curtains shut before he turned to face Aunt May with a smile on his face.

"Peter?" she repeated, "I'm sorry to be such a bother to you…"

"Nonsense, how can my favourite Aunt be that? Anyway, I know you broke your hip just to make sure I'd be here for Christmas!" This was from a nephew who had never missed a Christmas with his aunt yet.

May picked up one of her crutches from where she sat in her easy chair, and waved it at him.

"Don't be cheeky, young man. I can still wallop you good with this!"

He grinned, then tucked the lap-rug securely around her legs solicitously. Things were easier between them now that Aunt May knew the other side of him that he had kept hidden from her for all these years. He no longer had to make silly excuses to get away whenever Spider-Man was needed as he did when younger, but he still had to wait until Anna Watson or a neighbour came to visit before he slipped off.

"I'll go put some potatoes on. Are you warm enough?"

"I'm fine, don't fuss." She pulled out some knitting from a bag. "Just turn the radio on, will you dear?"

"Sure thing."

Peter left the room.

Dinner was over and Peter was busy with the washing up. Aunt May was sitting in her arm chair again, feeling guilty that she couldn't at least help dry.

"I'll tell you what," said Peter, "You can think of a final present I can get MJ for Christmas; it needs to be something special. I've no clue…"

He finished and came and threw a couple more pieces of wood onto the fire and gave it a poke. Sparks hissed and shot up the chimney. He crouched down and stared at the flames, mind going blank, but seeing images of people from his past, some alive, some dead, flicker in and out of his consciousness. The room was quiet apart from the tiny snaps and pops from the fire, the ticking of the mantel-clock, and the click of knitting needles. Finally, May, who had been watching her nephew with a look on her face of both concern and fondness, broke the silence.

"Come away from the fire dear, It's not good for you to be so close."

Peter slowly stood up, letting his eyes, and his mind, focus on the real world once again.

"I'm sorry, I'll try to be better company for you. Do you want to play cribbage?"

"Bah! That's an old person's game. Talk to me. When's Mary-Jane coming tomorrow?"

"About midday. I think the only reason she's seeing me is she doesn't want to upset you…"

"That wouldn't stop her. Peter, she does care for you." May said gently, "Stop blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong - there is such a thing as free will and determinism. You don't have to be such a solipsist."

Peter was surprised, but hid it with a grin. "Where did you learn those fancy words?"

"I've been taking senior citizen classes in Philosophy, run externally through ESU. Very interesting…"

A kiss landed lightly on Aunt May's cheek. "You're wonderful. Your turn to talk to me! Tell me what you've learnt…"

Peter settled down in the other armchair - the one that used to be Uncle Ben's chair when he was alive. Peter had avoided sitting in it for many years, but now, he felt comforted there, as if Uncle Ben had him on his knee and were telling him a story. He listened to Aunt May, seeing her eyes sparkle as she got enthused about her subject. He relaxed; he could use his time here as a brief respite from Spider-Man. After all, what could possibly threaten them at this time?

"…and next year, I'm taking Aesthetics. I've always wanted to understand modern art, and this prom…"

Bring. Bring… Bring

"I'll get it." Peter jumped up and went into the kitchen to answer the phone. "Hello, Parker residence. Jeeves speaking."

"Peter, is that you?"

"MJ?" He was alarmed by the slight panic he heard in her voice.

"Thank God, Peter. Peter, I'm in the Wallis Building, in Upper West Side; the power's gone, and we're stuck in the elevator. The elevator alarm doesn't seem to be working…"

"Wait, have you called the…"

"Peter! My cell phone battery's running out. Listen, you have to contact Spider-Man, get him here fast. There's a woman stuck here with me - and she's gone into labour! ER won't b….zizz crck shz."

The phone went dead. Peter looked at the handset in horror, before slamming it down and running into the lounge.

What should he do? He should go after Mary-Jane but he couldn't leave Aunt May alone, could he?