Chapter 2: In Which Lies are Spun

"Thanks for coming so quickly." Recognition crossed May's face as she opened the door. "Oh. It's you."

Catherine shifted her weight on her feet. "Yes, it does appear to be me."

Exhaustion was written across May's face as her plastered on smile shook. This was not what Catherine wanted. She wanted to be in her office. That was a good place.

The next couple minutes were spent confirming facts. Yes, she was Peter's nurse when they had first met. No, she did not typically do house calls. Yes, it was a pleasure to re-meet her too. The cheeriness in May felt forced as they chatted.

The apartment kept grabbing her attention. It was odd to see where Peter lived in. It was the complete opposite of hers. They lived in a small place but homey. Pictures and Peter's art lined the walls. Magazines were stacked on the dining room table.

Catherine's apartment suffered from a certain blankness. They could probably try to sell her place and no one notice that someone was still living there. It didn't matter. She didn't spend time there anyways. Work kept her busy.

May leaned in, drawing her focus. "This whole superhero thing…I'm not sure what to think. Is there a manual on it? Did I miss a footnote somewhere?"

"If you missed something, I missed an entire class." The smile hurt against her face.

May's eyes went towards the back. "Do you treat him when he's…on the job as well? Or only afterwords?"

She felt this going places that she didn't want it to go. Peter was getting her exactly where he wanted her. Catherine stood her ground and adjusted her medical bag against her shoulder.

"I'm there when he needs me. Speaking of that, should we go see him?" She turned to head in deeper but May stepped into her way.

"I want to be the cool aunt but I need to ask, how much danger is he in?" She took a second, the happiness slipping from her face and her arms crossing over her stomach. "I'm supposed to protect him and now I see the news and all the things that he's doing…"

Catherine didn't get to respond. She didn't get a chance. May's face brightened, her arms fell and she ran over her last statement. "I don't mean this to be awkward for you. On the brighter side, at least some things make sense now. He's been eating me out of food for months. For a while, he wouldn't look me in the eyes. Now he sleeps in the morning. He used to be my little morning bird."

May laughed. It was hollow.

"He's still figuring this out too," Catherine said.

May leaned closer, the whispering loudly. "But I thought that he would trust me with anything. I could help him with this or convince him stop. Instead he's shut me out. I've been relaxed about so many things. Was that a mistake? I've just wanted him to have healthy teenage years, teenage angst and all."

Catherine felt pinned between a rock and a hard place. "I can see how that would be frustrating."

The beauty of that phrase was that the more you thought about it, the more the substance of it melted away into nothing. It was empty.

"I thought that the hormones thing was bad enough. Now he's a superhero?"

There was a snort followed by a round of high pitched coughing from another room.

Aunt May threw up her hands, all seriousness dropped. "I may still ground you for life, little man."

"Oh noooo…" The whine wavered in pitch.

"Come on." She passed Catherine. "Now he's come down with this super-cold so quickly. Peter insisted that he was fine but he mentioned you. I want you to just look at him. I don't know what I'm looking for anymore."

"Sure."

Peter's room was small and as messy as she expected it to be. There was a stack of kicked off shoes in the corner and a sweater thrown over the desk chair. Peter himself was in bed, wrapped up over his head in a blanket with a sprinkling of food and drink surrounding him. A larger circle of used Kleenex ringed the floor.

The suit was hung up in the open closet. It was odd to see there. It was an exposed nerve. If she touched it, this careful illusion of casualness would shatter.

"Hey Peter."

"Hey Ms. Catherine. Sorry, Aunt May wouldn't take no for an answer." He squinted at her miserably. What a great little actor.

She settled down in the chair that had been pulled close to Peter's comforter cocoon. "What seems to be the problem?"

"He's running a fever and coughing." Aunt May cut in. A smile almost flickered across Peter's face. He hid it by hacking into the blanket. He barely pulled this off.

"A fever huh?" She pulled on gloves and found her pulse oximeter and thermometer. "Finger and open up please."

He wheezed. "I'm really okay ma'am."

Catherine gave him a serious look. "I'm here to take care of you. It's my job. Now finger and mouth please."

"Really-"

"Why don't you stop fussing before I give you a diagnosis just on sight?" Her voice went sweet. "I'd hate to give you a steroids shot or set you up on an IV when I might not need too. That's a lot of pain and hassle for both of us."

A pale face, a real one this time, greeted her. A hand appeared from underneath the covers. She clipped on the heart monitor. Peter accepted the thermometer. He looked anxiously between both of them as the machines clicked and beeped.

Catherine looked at the numbers, sighed and set the equipment down on his bed. "I'm sorry Mrs. Parker but I need to speak to Peter alone to ask him a couple questions."

"Superhero questions?" May's arms returned to cross her stomach. Her voice was higher pitched that she wanted. "I'm in the know now."

Catherine swallowed. "Yes, but this is a patient confidentiality."

"Oh."

Catherine could see May looking at her kid, tiny under the sheets, and trying to imagine what needed to be said. Catherine had used the big words, the official ones that created a solid concrete wall. Catherine hated to shut her out. It was exactly what May didn't need but all Catherine wanted to do was politely ring Peter's neck. That couldn't be done with an audience.

"Of course…" May's face wavered on insisting and then the smile came across her face again, broad and filled with illusionary understanding. "Of course. I'll try my hand at some boxed chicken noodle soup. Maybe this time I won't burn it."

The door clicked closed.

"What do you think you are doing?" Catherine turned on him, hissing the words out. "If you think this is funny. It isn't. You are as healthy as you were yesterday. This fever is normal for you. Your internal temperature is always warmer than average."

He sat up, the covers falling from his shoulders. "Did you talk to her? Tell her that everything is going to be fine?"

"Why don't you do that?"

He hesitated for one remarkable moment. "Because…"

"Because it's hard, isn't it Peter?" It came out sharp, bitter and cutting.

"Ms. Catherine, can't you see how worried she is?" His face fell and he circled the spaceships on his comforter. "I want her to not worry about me. I want her to think about her job and the bills and everything else. Like she used too."

There was something breaking in him, a stress fracture, the lines grinding against each other.

She could comfort it or tell him the truth.

She sighed and zipped up her bag. Neither option was good. She shouldn't be in this position. His eyes followed her movements as he probably tried to guess what she was going to do. Nothing she said was going to be right.

"This is part of it." She said slowly, "You made the decision to be Spider-Man. That means a lot of things. Some days it is going to be fun. Some days it is going to hurt the people around you. Stark pays everyday. You know that."

She saw that man in his office silhouetted against his desk, the room smelling heavy of whiskey.

Now she saw a shine in Peter's eyes and a wobble in his voice. "I can't stop being Spider-Man."

Damn, he was too young for this.

"We both know that." She put a hand on her shoulder. He leaned into it and something in her wavered. She couldn't soften now.

"If you are honest with her, she'll listen. If you sugarcoat things, she'll know it." She looked him in the eyes. "Okay?"

There was a nod. She squeezed his shoulder a little before releasing. Contact was strange between them. She did it because it was what he needed but it wasn't comfortable. He was still her patient in part of her mind.

He swallowed a few times before he asked again. "Can you talk to her first?"

She rolled her eyes and stood. "You drive a hard bargain. Only if you never pull this kind of trick again. Okay?"

"Okay."

She shook her head and started towards the door. "I'm going to prescribe that you stay in that bed for the rest of the day and drink lots of water. You're a little dehydrated anyways. Miraculously recover overnight. Okay?"

"Yes ma'am."

Aunt May was hovering in the hallway as she left. Her promise hung over her head as they talked about Peter's condition. Catherine diagnosed exhaustion. May's questions were strictly practical, what she should do, how he was doing, etc, but under the surface Catherine could see the real ones. The ones that only Peter could really answer.

She didn't want this. She was already so involved in this kid's life. Mediation wasn't needed on top of the flaming heap that was her life.

At the door, Catherine forced herself to stop, to turn back, to look May in the eyes. "Look, Peter loves being Spider-Man. It's good for him."

The facade crackled. May's smile turned into something different. Sorrow crept into the wrinkles on her face. "That's good to know."

"He's…" she realized how meaningless May's response was and added, "he's a good kid."

"He is."

Catherine pulled a business card from her medical bag and gave it to her. "Here's my work number and email. It says I'm a nurse for the technical department but you know it's a little more than that now. Give me a call at work if you get in a bind. This stuff is a bit tricky, especially at first."

"You're telling me." The smile returned but it wasn't real. It looked like a bandaid on a wound that was bleeding through. She tucked the card in her back pocket. "Thanks for helping him. I know this is dangerous."

"No problem." It was all she could think to say.

The door closed abruptly and Catherine stared at the paneling for a few minutes. May's footsteps faded away. The wood was worn and Catherine listened to the silence. She turned away and started back to the parts of her job where everything made sense.

I feel like the alternate title for this chapter should be "In Which Everything Goes Slightly Wrong". What do you think? Was there a way where Peter's plan could have gone right? Some part of me doubts it...drop a review letting me know.

Thank you for reading as always. -Quin