A/N) Finally! Again, late. I know, I'm an idiot, I should update more often- but at least I'm here, right?

I would just like to thank you guys for 32 reviews, 55 followers, and 35 favourites! It means a lot more to me than I say.

But ugh. Guys, it's Sunday. Dawn of the last day; 24 hours remain. (Less than 24 hours, actually. It's way past dawn).

Chapter 8

Spider-man wooped as he swung up and around one of the taller buildings. The way the wind swept past his body, and the constructions zoomed by. The tiny cars below him seemed akin to toys, and their flashing lights were calming, in a strange way. It helped him ignore the insisting voice in the back of his mind.

It was still early in the morning, and things were moving slowly. Most crimes happened at night, or late into the evening, but there was always some daring crookies in the mornings.

And just as he thought that, a muffled shout came from a back alley. Immediately, Peter lunged in that direction, nose-diving into the alley, and just barely coming up short of the ground, (thanks to his webs).

He quickly took note of the situation, noticing that the two crookies had not noticed him. Both were male, and young. The victim had noticed him. He was about fourty or fifty years old, and was wearing similar clothes to what uncle Ben might have worn...

'Miss him?' Snickered the voice of his aunt in the back of his mind. 'Well, he doesn't miss you. Why would he miss the one who killed him? You useless boy.'

The Man had his eyes fixed upon him, looking at him almost knowingly, like he knew what Peter was going through.

Before he could get himself even more wrapped up in his thoughts, Peter shook his head, and put on a cheeky grin. It was more for himself than the crookies, no matter how he tried to convince himself. "Heya fellas!" he said in his usual cheerful voice. "You get a kick from bullying the elderly?"

The crookies froze in their advancement, but only one dared to turn and look at him. "Aww." He adressed the one who still had his back to Peter. "Don't be like that. You know I love ya!" He said like a friend might to his best buddy.

As the second crookie shook in his boots, he turned around to look at Spider-man. "H-hey, w-what's up... man?" Asked the first.

Peter chuckled. "'A' for effort, man, but you're still a bully. And you should know... I don't like bullies. They suck." He commented, and crossed his arms. "So then, what's it gonna be? The easy way..." He paused here and cracked his knuckles before saying in a lower, more dramatic voice, "Or the hard way?"

The crookies stood stock-still for a full two seconds, before scrambling away, snatching the middle aged man's bag as they went. Peter sighed before turning to the senior. "Please wait here for a sec; I'll be right back." and then he leaped up into the air, and used his webs to chase after his quarry.

He caught them both with ease; too used to their type of baddie to have any trouble. He strung them up against a wall by their arms and legs. He grabbed the man's bag, and made a quick call to the cops, before looking at the two men. "Now don't be too much trouble 'fore the cops get here, alright?" he said, as if he was scolding some children. "Be nice!"

He faintly heard the two grumble before he swept himself up into the air and aimed a well placed flip into the next alley, where the older man was still waiting patiently. "Sorry for the long wait!" he said, as he handed the man's bag over. He expected the man to snatch it out from between his fingers, and sneer at him, but the man did neither.

The middle-aged man thankfully took the bag from him and fixed Peter with a grateful stare. "Thank you, Spider-man. I know some people think you're not all that good, but you are really helping this city."

Peter felt his heart swell with joy at his words. He hadn't known it himself, but... he had really needed to hear those words. He had wanted to feel needed by the public, and the fact that this man had just said that... Peter just... he couldn't explain it. He just felt incredibly, and utterly happy, throughut all of his being. Even the voice in his head shrunk back at the man's kind words. This man... He... he really was like uncle Ben, Peter thought.

"... Th-... thanks..." He mumbled uncertainly. "That's... really kind of you..."

The man smiled kindly at him. He even had the same twinkle in his eyes that uncle Ben had... "That's no problem, son. Not many people appreciate what you do."

Peter- yes, not Spider-man, Peter- smiled shyly at him. "Thanks..." he said again, awkwardly. But before he could get really emotional, the man walked out of the back-alley, and didn't turn back. Peter didn't move for a long time, just thinking over the man's words.

Eventually, he realised that it was getting late, and that he should probably head back to the home before Thomas woke up...

.o0|O|0o.

As Peter passed the kitchen, he realised that he was indeed a little off-schedule, because Mrs. Mason was already out of the shower.

She was an old woman, who he had learned had three children; two sons and one daughter. Two of which had children themselves. Mrs. Mason seemed to enjoy the presence of younger children, which might be why she was a social services worker. Despite her old age, her eyes had the same sparkle in them that children's eyes did. Maybe that was why she was so likable.

She smiled kindly at Peter as he picked an apple out of the bowl of fruit on the table. "Ah, Peter. We hardly ever see you these days!" She exclaimed pleasantly, and clapped her hand on his shoulder.

Peter was slightly unsure whether he should anwer that. He hadn't really had much interraction with people recently, (apart from the conversation he had had with Ricky two days ago. But that was more of a monolgue on his part, so it didn't really count), so he was a little out of touch. He came to a compromise with himself and decided that mumbling was the best course of action, for now. "... I guess..."

Mrs. Mason dug her hands into the cereal cupboard and pulled out a box of Cheerios- which was strange, because Peter had never seen Mrs. Mason eat cereal before. "Oh, Peter..." She paused in preparing her breakfast, "Do you want to visit your aunt today?"

Peter didn't even think. "No, thank you, Mrs. Mason." But he said it absently, because as soon as she said 'aunt' Peter's thoughts had been re-directed towards the middle-aged man from his patrol. He wanted to see that man again...

But it wasn't as though he could just swing around the corner and see him. But... there was always the next best thing...

Should he do it? Would he do it? Could he do it? Peter wasn't sure if he could, but... he had to try. That is what uncle Ben would have wanted, right? To protect, to try... after all, with great power, comes great responsibility. With his decision thought out, Peter corrected himself, "Actually..."

Mrs. Mason looked up from pouring some milk into the cheerios, and turned to him. "Yes, Peter?" Her eyes looked so happy... so hopeful. He hoped aunt May's eyes would look like that.

"Um... I think..." Ugh. Peter groaned internally- why was this so hard? "I... I do want to see... aunt May... today." And with that, Peter sprinted out the door before he could see Mrs. Mason's reaction.

Little did he know, Mrs. Mason's smile was a shade brighter the whole day.

.o0|O|0o.

Peter was afraid of what would happen when he walked through these doors. Instead of thinking about it, he tried to examine the door itself... it wasn't working very well.

Mrs. Mason had taken Peter straight to the hospital after school (she had been waiting right outside the school yard). She hadn't said a word on the way, but she had smiled at him comfortingly whenever he looked at her. The hospital staff were strict though, so she couldn't follow him to aunt May's hospital room. He had told her that he could walk home, and that she should go check on the other kids.

So here he was, alone in the dim corridor, pulling at his sleeves and trying to gather up the courage to walk in. There was a surpring lack of nurses running around here, (although he could hear mumbling in the room down the corridor) not something he had expected a hospital to be like at all. Aunt May loved to watch hospital dramas often, and the corridors in the hospitals there had never been this quiet, or not that he had seen, anyway. But the fact that it was quiet was a little unnerving, to be honest.

Peter's thoughts were interrupted by the opening of doors, and a small chatter between what sounded like a young female, and an older male. The male's voice was deep, and a little familiar- although he couldn't think of where he could have met this person's voice before.

The chattering stopped, and the male and female went in different directions. Silently, Peter hoped that the man would go in the opposite direction, but he could tell by the strides that it was the male. He just hoped that this person would go straight passed him; after all, why wouldn't he? They were complete strangers.

His hopes were completely crushed when he felt a large, strong hand on his shoulder.

.o0|O|0o.

Steve opened the door to the hospital room, with the nurse right behind him. It was an average visit to the hospital (he went there often, to cheer up kids), and nothing was going wrong so far. The nine-year-old in the other room was fast asleep, (mostly due to morphine) and the nurse and himself had gone out, so as not to disturb her sleep.

The nurse turned her thankful brown eyes to his own blue ones. "Thank you, for all you do, captain. We all really appreciate it, and the kids love you."

Steve shuffled his feet nervously. No matter how many times he got these compliments, it always felt embarrasing. He wasn't really used to it, but he supposed he would have to be, soon. "Uh, thank you, miss..." he mumbled, and felt his cheeks light up.

The woman chuckled. "Oh, it's no problem! You are so sweet with them- you're a natural parent, I can tell!" She smiled brightly at him, before waving. "Well, I should be on my way. Bye!"

Steve nodded quickly, recovering from the compliment. "Uh, yes, bye!" He smiled pleasantly, but she had already turned on her heel, and was walking in the other direction. Steve followed in suit, and continued down the hall.

But he frowned slightly when he spotted a skinny, brown haired boy just a few feet away. He was staring intently at the door before him, and he looked to be... frightened? Nervous? One of the two.

Steve wasn't sure what was wrong, but the lad was young, and he looked so lost... he would just check up on him, and then be on his way. Hopefully nothing was too wrong, and he wouldn't break down right on the step of this door- there was no doubt a patient or two on the other side of the door.

With that in mind, Steve placed his left hand on the boy's shoulder. He was surprised when his fingers splayed off of his shoulder, and he could feel that the shoulder was a lot thinner than it should be. He seemed to be marginally under-weight, and he could feel the boy's shoulder bones jutting out. It was a little worrying.

But something more than that, the boy visibly flinched when he laid his hand on him. What did this mean? He tried to ignore it, and act friendly, but Steve couldn't shake off the way he had flinched; as if he had been struck.

"Hello, son. Are you alright?" He said gently, and calmly removed his hand. It would not do alarm him further.

The boy stayed silent for a long while, but his eyes had widened slightly, and he seemed all the more nervous. "Yes..." he said, after a while. "I'm fine." he mumbled.

Now, if Steve hadn't said those words in the exact same way, a million times before, he might have believed him. Heck, he might have even believed him, even if he had seen the boy's eyes widen, the flinch, the under-weight-edness, even his general posture. Because the way he had said it was practiced, and well done. It was an automatic, practiced, well done, lie.

Although, on the other hand, it was a relief that he had someone to lie to. That meant that there was someone who cared about him, and someone he cared about enough to lie to. It reminded him of his and Bucky's relationship... although, Bucky could always see right through him. He wondered if this boy's friend could see right through him...

But the notion still stood; it was a lie. "No you're not." Steve said simply. The boy tensed."I've seen pleanty of people say the exact same thing."

Curiously, the boy turned around, to look at him scrutinisingly. He seemed to be looking for something, but what he was looking for... well, the possibilities were endless. And Steve didn't really want to look through all of them. The most likely one was probably identity,but who knew; maybe the boy would surprise him.

The boy seemed to have found what he was looking for, because his eyes widened, and he took a step back. "C-... Captain America?"

.o0|O|0o.

"C-... Captain America?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them. He was panicking slightly, (although he prided himself in being able to hide his panic, thanks to all those times he had fought formidable foes as Spider-man), and he tried to tell himself that Captain (Freakin') America was not right in front of him because of Spider-man.

Even though it had been weeks since the incident with Hawkeye and Black Widow, he wouldn't put it past them to try and find out his secret identity in that time. And of course, use it as leverage. But did they really have to do it while he was having mental struggles, at a hospital? Seriously?

Then again, he tried to convince himself. Then again, it might just be a coincidence. For all he knew, Cap was just here because he liked to cheer up hospital children. He had heard rumours about that before, although he couldn't remember where.

Cap sighed, and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah... but you can call me Steve, if you want."

Peter froze, and blushed. Oh. Oh yeah. Who wanted to be called by their superhero name while not in superhero mode? Sounded exhausting. Peter hoped he would never have to reveal his identity. "Alright... Steve. I, uh... I'm Peter." He mumbled. "Sorry..." He too rubbed the back of his neck subconciously.

"That's alright." Steve responded quickly. "I get it a lot." There was an awkward silence. It was not as long as some of the awkward silences that Peter had experienced before, but it was awkward. Way, awkward. "Um... so... are you... are you sure you're alright?" Steve asked again. "I mean..."

Peter quickly picked up the conversation, before another silence could breakout. "Uh, no... you were right... I'm not... completely... okay." Ugh. Peter groaned again. He had been on a roll at first, but then he lost it again. He really needed to get out more.

Steve fixed him with a strange stare. He was probably trying to figure him out. Good luck with that, Peter thought. "You... wanna talk about it?" Steve asked.

Peter actually considered the question, and what his answer might be. Did he want to talk about it? No. Should he talk about it? ...Yes. "Al-... alright."

Steve smiled, and put on a comforting smile. Really? would this person, who tried to make him feel better, tried to help him, tried to... comfort him- would this person really try to kidnap him, like Hawkeye and Black Widow? Would he?

Steve gestured to some benches across the hall. "Would you like to sit?" he asked.

It couldn't hurt, right? Peter thought to himself. He nodded slowly, and began to walk over. But not before Steve put his arm around his shoulders, like uncle Ben used to. At this thought, Peter turned his eyes down-cast, and let his shoulders fall in on themselves.

When they sat on the bench, Peter didn't say much. He tried to sort through his thoughts; put one in front of the other, try to order them into a line to explain... but it was hard. He couldn't do it. Peter sighed and slumped into the bench, lowering his head into his hands.

A comforting hand lowered itself onto his shoulder, but Peter didn't look up. "Hey," came Steve's low voice. "How about we start with why you're here. Who's behind the door?"

Peter looked tiredly up from his hands, and into Steve's eyes. "My aunt. She... she was hurt in a fire." That you abandoned me in!' cut in the voice, and Peter winced internally.

Steve scrunched up his eyebrows. It wasn't often that nephews went to see their aunts. It would make sense if she was Peter's mother, but an aunt? Why an aunt? He hadn't been all that close to his aunt, back when he was younger. Perhaps this Peter was just very kind? Even with his super hearing, he couldn't hear anyone else in the room, (other than patients) so this boy was the only one.

"She... she's my only relative left." Ah. That would explain it. "The doctors said that she would get better, but... the hospital fees are quite big, and we don't really have all that much money." Peter rubbed his hand over the creases on his forehead, trying to make them go away. "And I'm not sure if she even likes me anymore..." he mumbled that last part, like it was a secret.

Steve's eyebrows lowered into a monobrow, and looked at him with concerned eyes. "What do you mean by that? I'm sure she loves you; you seem like a good kid."

Peter sighed. This was the hard part. "I... have a secret. She wants to know... what I'm doing, but I don't think she should, and we kind of got mad at each other, and... yeah. Now she's hurt, and I'm not..."

To his surprise, Steve's eyebrows relaxed and he looked at him in understanding. What? How could he understand what Peter was going through? Although, it would make sense, he supposed. Uncle Ben had read the Captain America comics to him as a kid, and despite his memory of them not being the best, he did remember relating to him, strangely enough.

"I think," Steve began, but he paused, as if second guessing his words. In the end, he continued anyway. "I think you should go see her. You two probably need to figure this out, and it won't be easy." He warned. "But, you can't spend the rest of your life thinking 'I should have done this'. Do it now, and you you won't regret it. Trust me." For some reason those last two words stuck out to Peter. Trust him? No, he culdn't do that. No matter how much he helped, he was still Captain America, the first Avenger. And Peter could no longer trust an Avenger.

But, he did know that this man probably had experience. He probably knew what to do in a situation like this. So, yes, Peter would do as he said. But he couldn't trust Captain America.

.o0|O|0o.

When Peter stepped through the door, he only sent one glance back to Steve. Steve gave him an encouraging thumbs-up, before the door closed behind him. He was now alone, in a dark hospital room, with groaning and sleeping patients.

One patient was awake, and she stared right at Peter, with her mouth open, and her eyes wide. Peter didn't waste any time- he raced over, and gave his aunt May a big hug.

Yay! And now they are back together again!

... Also, foreshadowing! I ain't telling you where it is, but it's there.