A/N: Thanks for the reviews. And to LostPuppy1998, the chrysalis is canon. Check The Amazing Spider-man comics for more information.

Being homeless in a city that Peter didn't know much about was unsettling. He quickly became acquainted with the Wayne Foundation, however. Peter was surprised that the man behind it all actually seemed to genuinely care about the citizens in Gotham. So much so that Peter was lucky that charities that were sponsored by Wayne Enterprises provided him with food and a place to sleep. Though in order to actually be able to be assigned a bed, he had to wait in line for hours and Peter didn't have the patience for that. Instead, he made a hammock out of his webbing and slept high above the alley between the soup kitchen and the shelter. The one thing he did take advantage of at the shelter was clothing and being able to shower. He even volunteered at the soup kitchen and shelter to do small things like repairs, cleaning, and carrying heavy items. It made him feel better to know that he was giving back to those who were helping him. He couldn't exactly get a place or a job without any ID and having to pretend he had amnesia. He couldn't very well tell anyone that he was from an alternate dimension.

A few months into the strange new world Peter found himself in, the shelter received a visitor who wanted to speak to Peter specifically. Peter hadn't wanted to draw any attention to himself but having helped the soup kitchen create a filtration system to give the homeless clean filtered water without having to depend on the bottled water delivery service that never brought enough drinking water for everyone, he supposed it wasn't much of a surprise. Especially when the visitor happened to be one of Bruce Wayne's adopted sons. He was young—seemed to be in high school—and was very personable. Even still, Peter couldn't help feeling like the young man could see right through his lies. And Peter had been lying since he was fifteen to his Aunt May of all people. He was practically a master at it. But this kid just sized him up and seemed too perceptive for Peter's liking.

"We have ways of finding a person's identity so it won't be a problem in getting you set up at Wayne—" young Wayne was saying but Peter lifted his hands up to stop him.

"I appreciate you coming down here and taking the time to speak with me, but I don't need more than what I've been receiving from these wonderful people. Uh," Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "And I suppose I owe your family a thanks, too. But there are others that are in more desperate need for a hand out. The job, housing, and medical care you were offering me would benefit them more. They've been homeless for years. If you help anyone, you should help them first." The look he received from the young Wayne was indescribable. "Now, if you'll excuse me," Peter told him in a serious tone that didn't leave room for argument before he turned to leave.

It was with a heavy heart that he hid away in the alley and scampered his way up the wall before anyone noticed. He knew that it had to have been the director of the soup kitchen who had called in that favor for him. But he really hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself. Going from homeless to having a job at Wayne Enterprises only a few months after disappearing from that lab was a sure-fire way to place a target on his back.

Peter still hadn't figured out how he wound up in that lab or who was keeping him there. Not to mention, how he ended up in an alternate dimension where anyone and everyone he knew didn't exist. Even the superhero community in this world was vastly different from his own. As far as he knew, Batman didn't exist in his reality. And there definitely wasn't a Gotham or Metropolis with an alien superhero called Superman. Though that did sound vaguely familiar. Like something he'd read about in a comic book when he was a kid but he wasn't all that certain. And now, he had to find a new place to live and a new way to find food. Going from one Martha Wayne Foundation Soup Kitchen to another would only invite the young Wayne to come back and try to recruit him again and that was something Peter definitely didn't want happening anytime soon.

Peter waited until after sundown before he made his way to Robinson's Park. He'd become familiar with the bustle of the park and had successfully stopped a few attempted mugging and assaults. Thanks to the bad lighting and plenty of shadows the trees provided he didn't need a mask. A few of the people he'd saved did try to get close to him to thank him. But Peter was always quick to tell them to call the police and then hid from view. No one had gotten a good look at him. But the papers had given him the moniker as the Robinson Park Rouge Avenger. He found that ironic given that he'd only recently been working in conjunction with the Avengers prior to his… death/rebirth/dimension hopping? Not that the Avengers existed in this reality. And given that he only stayed at the park until it was dark enough to even scare stray kittens from entering, he never had a run-in with the local heroes who typically came out after park curfew. By then Peter was usually helping clean up and set up the soup kitchen for the next day before he called it a night. But he'd have to find a new place to hang his webs.

Peter walked aimlessly until he reached the end of the boardwalk. He was overlooking the bay and at a distance, he could see a city in lights that reminded him of Atlantic City. There were so many similarities to this new world from where he came that it gave him a weird sense of belonging. He couldn't say he missed Jersey, ever. But he did miss Queens and swinging up between the skyscrapers and the hustle and bustle of the city. Not the smell. Though Gotham didn't smell any better. Smog. Stale bread. Gutter trash. Cigs and coffee. Not to mention the car fumes. And the whiff now and again of wet asphalt that really hit home. He looked back towards Gotham and he realized how close to home this place really was. But why did it always have to look so gloomy? New York was bright, especially at night. But Gotham…

The sound of an argument reached his ears. Peter turned to look in the direction it was coming from and he started running. A woman's voice carried above the voice of two men. But it was the child's whimper that made him whip out a web string and propel himself above the nearby tree line. He perched himself on a building overlooking a pier. A woman and her son were being forced onto the dock where a speedboat was waiting.

This is like a bad plot point of a mob movie. The husband sends his wife and son to swim with the fish. But the son doesn't die. He comes back for revenge. And he takes out the entire familia and leaves his father for—

The sound of flesh hitting flesh stopped Peter from his mind ramblings and sent him into motion.

"You tell that son of a bitch—!" the woman was saying.

"Hey, now, that's no way to talk in front of a minor," Peter interrupted her tirade. The woman was the one who'd struck the man. And since they didn't have guns on the pair, Peter didn't think they were actually trying to kill them. Probably just forcing them to leave Gotham. But that was just wishful thinking on his part. Especially when the two goons turned to face him and whipped out a pair of guns in his direction. "You really should put those away before someone gets hurt."

"Yeah, someone like you," said goon number one.

Typical bad guy banter.

"That's—" goon two began to say in shock. "But he's supposed to be dea—!"

But the guy couldn't finish his sentence. He was kicked in the balls from behind by the woman. He let out a painful groan and dropped to the floor. While Peter and goon number one were distracted by letting out empathetic groans of their own, neither was prepared for the woman to kick goon number one in the balls as well. And he was also down.

"Hey, don't turn that evil weapon on me. I just came here to help," Peter said with his hands up in a sign of surrender.

The woman laughed and took hold of her son by the hand. She kicked goon number one in the gut and spit on him before she said a few choice words and walked over to Peter.

"Would you mind escorting us home?" she said in a softer tone.

"Uh, sure, just let me—" Peter said as he rushed over to the two men. He took their guns and tossed them into the bay then used their belts to tie them to a nearby light post. No need to use his webs and give himself away. "Okay. All set. But are you sure you need my help? Looks like you can take care of yourself."

The woman nodded. Her eyes, Peter noticed, were filled with unshed tears. The boy let go of his mother and ran to Peter taking his hand. But the boy, other than a whimper, hadn't said a word.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll stay with you," Peter told the boy and squeezed his hand. The boy's eyes flickered to him for a sec then back to face forward. "What's your name?"

The boy looked away but didn't answer other than pulling his arm to get him to start walking.

"He doesn't speak much," the woman said and wiped the few tears that were shed away.

"So, what happened back there?" Peter asked carefully as they made their way to a car that was still running with the back door open. No one was inside.

The woman made her way to the driver's side and gestured for him to climb in the back with her son.

"My ex-husband's old associates decided Gotham wasn't big enough for the both of us," she said as she began to drive away. She looked at Peter through the rearview mirror. "I'm glad you were there. Thanks for your help."

"Uh, I didn't even do anything. You did all the legwork," Peter said with a soft smile.

"You distracted them. It was enough," the woman said. "My name is Mila Peter."

Peter gaped at her.

"How do you know my name?"

She stared at him with an unreadable expression. Then she closed her eyes and sighed. She made a rolling stop at a red light as she made a left turn. Red and blue lights flashed behind them before the sirens were heard. She pulled over and waited for the officer. They waited for a beat before an officer sauntered over.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" the officer said before he even got a look at the person behind the wheel. She waited until he was closer before she turned in the officer's direction. "Mrs. Cassamento—"

"It's Ms. Peter now, officer. I'm divorced," Mila said in annoyance.

Oh, Peter is her last name. I'm such an idiot.

"Right," said the officer. "Well, then, Ms. Peter, you ran a red light. I'm going to have to ask for—"

"No, you're going to get back in your car and escort me to my home since I'm in the middle of running for not only my life but also my son's. We need a protection detail until further notice. Inform the commissioner forthwith."

The officer sighed heavily and went back to his car while rattling off a few things into his radio. The sirens were back on but now they were ahead of them. Mila followed the police cruiser easily.

"I am feeling a bit redundant at the moment."

Mila laughed. "Your presence is giving me strength."

"Uh, sure," Peter said, not feeling like her words had any merit. Sure, he'd distracted the two men. But she'd done everything herself. The woman was strong. She reminded him of his aunt May. He looked at the young boy beside him and squeezed his hand a little. He looked a little scared and was saying something under his breath that Peter didn't understand.

"Your name is Peter," the woman said and Peter nodded. He didn't think it was wise to deny it. "Do you have another name?"

"Uh," Peter said and rubbed the back of his neck. Yes, he had another name. His last name. But he didn't want to share that. What if there was another Peter Parker in this reality? Or what if the people who'd held him in the lab knew his real identity?

"You don't remember," she said carefully but it wasn't a question. "Where have you been? You look like a hobo."

"Well, I—"

The woman frowned and sighed.

"You work for me now," she said quickly, not letting him finish.

Uh, what?

"I—"

"You don't have a name. You don't have a home. And you don't have a memory. I will provide you everything you need. In the meantime, you will stay in my home and help me protect my son. I will not take no for an answer," she said firmly.

"Then I suppose the answer is yes," Peter said with a soft smile. This woman was in trouble. It wasn't the first time he stayed close to someone to protect them. It was just the first time he'd be doing it from inside their house instead of perched on a rooftop across the street.

Mila pulled into her driveway behind the police cruiser. "Aiden, wait for me in your room." The boy nodded. Mila looked at Peter. "Please stay by his side while I talk to the police."

Peter nodded and allowed the boy to direct him into the house. He looked back as Mila invited the officers inside. He couldn't help but think that even though it seemed he lucked out tonight that it was just the beginning of his Parker luck. It always seemed like things were going right before they went very very wrong. But no matter what happened next, he would protect this woman and her son with his life.