Lieutenant Benjamin Parker of the NYPD never thought that his moment would ever come. However, as he and his wife were waiting outside of the hospital room that smelled like ammonia, he wondered how different this boy would be. Would he still talk Ben's ear off like he used to or would he want time alone? Had he been alone? Would he look like Richard or like Mary? Perhaps a perfect blend of both, like was when he was younger.
"How are we going to pay the hospital bills if it's Peter?" May whispered frantically. Her fingers worried on the rosary clutched in her hands that she had been praying with for the past two hours. She was shaking and her knuckles were white.
"We'll use the inheritance you got from your uncle." Ben assuaged her doubts. May didn't calm down, merely giving him a placating smile and continuing to let her fingers worry the varnish on the rosary beads. If this boy was really Peter, she was ruined.
"Mr. and Mrs. Parker?" There was a man in a clean and crisp suit with a voice as staccato as the beeps from the microwave. He had a job and he clearly did it well. Ben extended his hand. The agent took it, never breaking eye contact, as if they were making a covenant.
"Please," The police officer said. "Call me Ben, Agent….?"
"Coulson. Phil Coulson. I'm with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, but we call ourselves S.H.I.E.L.D." He straightened his suit jacket, and hesitated, unsure of how to tell them.
"This boy…" A pause. Silence in the empty hallway. "May or may not be Peter. They burned off his fingerprints, and then removed his teeth and his tongue. If you'd consent, we can do a DNA test."
Ben's hand was covering his mouth, and May leaned on him in shock. Agent Coulson nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face. "I'll let you decide."
They collapsed then, Ben shaking into May's shoulder as she stared out into the hallway in shock. Could it really be him? After all these years? Their Peter, with his curly brown hair that was always a rats nest whenever he woke them up early in the morning? Their little boy with the inquisitive brown eyes that idolized Tony Stark? Ben and May had seen themselves wanting to be parents. They wanted to adopt- maybe in their thirties.
Then Richard and Mary passed away, and Peter was only a baby. They didn't know what to do. It was actually Ben who had convinced May- "It's my nephew!"- but May had seemed to adapt quite quickly. It had been eleven years though. They were older now, in their forties, and it seemed like the window had passed to have any other children. The potential of adopting had always seemed like too much of a hassle, and it felt like they were trying to replace Peter.
"C-can we see him?" May asked. Agent Coulson nodded stiffly, and May took a shaky breath as she saw her hand reaching out to the garbage can to throw away the file. Peter's screams echoed in her ear again as she saw his little hand reaching out for her. She stood tall when the door opened, but collapsed against Ben in shock when she saw the pale figure on the bed.
He looked so young, and outwardly, he bore no striking resemblance to the Peter that only played in digital memories and their heads. The boy in the hospital cot had the same brown hair that Mary had been known for, tangled and gnarled on her worst days. His face looked nothing like either of his parents, but if Ben squinted, the nose was Richard's and the chin was just like that of Peter's grandfather, John. It was all just wishful thinking, sure, but it was heartwarming to see Ben's hope return as he forgot the face of the boy he had bumped into at the train system.
"It's him. Ben, I know it's him." May whispered, sure that it was not Peter. If she could convince him that a test was unnecessary. Grotesque scars marked the stranger's cheeks, highlighting the hollowness of the skin that seemed that it had been tanned, but hadn't seen sun for some time. Ben smiled, grasping May's hands in his own as her anxieties and secrets were occulted once more behind a thin veneer of relief.
"You must be the Parkers." A doctor in a white lab coat stepped in, extending his hand with an ingratiating smile. May shakily returned the gesture. If they did the DNA test, Peter was still in the air. The boy would bring light to the case, exposing the suspects to more questioning. Her to more questioning. Why had she done that? She'd been desperate, and that would be her fatal flaw.
"Are you Peter's doctor?" She asked. "I'm a nurse myself."
They conversed, Ben asking questions about the scars and the trauma that 'Peter' had received, asking if they knew anything. May resisted the urge to scoff at the idea that the medical staff would have any idea of the investigation, instead turning pleading eyes to the doctor, who began assuring them that it seemed like he had been well taken care of. There were no outward signs of long term malnutrition. In fact, Peter was tall for his age at just about 1.91 meters. No, the doctors didn't know when he would wake up, or even if he would. May tampered down her relief, instead nodding sorrowfully. The universe had allowed her mercy for now, but karma is a cruel mistress; For forgiveness is not a cowardice, and one must live with their mistakes.