Wow! Thank you all for keeping me motivated :) I will say the last chapter was a bit of my humor needing to just get itself out of the way in a very real fashion. This chapter is of course going to be the flip side and sort of dealing with something very personal to me and how I experienced it.
I will note that I have not gone through the foster care system, so I've done some limited research and tried to come up with what I assume the best case is. We know things aren't always what we find on TV, not every foster home is perfect, nor are they all horror shows. Below is my attempt to find the balance.
Biggest chapter to date but I do have some pretty crazy work days coming up so the next one might not be as quick, As always your reviews are truly loved, especially with some of these emotional chapters.
The next week- Peter would like to say it was a blur, but it wasn't. Every moment was in excruciating detail. Each minute spent in that house that was not his, the room that was not his. Each meal made that tasted like nothing at all despite all the flavors and spice. The funeral that seemed far too short and at the same time, an eternity too long.
Funerals themselves were odd affairs. He was sad, there was a moment when the eulogies and stories about May were being shared and he cried. There were also happy moments. Ned and MJ- so many classmates even some teachers made appearances. Not for May, most of them didn't know her, but to show their support. May's co-workers came, some with their families, others without.
There were some funny work stories he heard, kind words about how sweet his Aunt was. He knew. He knew how great she was. It wasn't fair.
Neither he nor May were overly religious, so in lieu of having a minister speak it was more of a grass roots affair. Mr. Leeds was able to keep an even keel while speaking words prepared about May, then opened the floor up for others to come up and share their stories, to say a few words. Peter wasn't the first. He wasn't the second. He sat there in the front with Ned beside him and Mrs. Leeds on the other side. Emma was there too but she politely remained in the back.
No one would force him to get up and speak- he knew that, but they were all waiting for him to. He also knew, somewhere deep down, that he had to muster the courage. This was May's farewell, she deserved every ounce of his will power no matter how torn and tattered it left his soul. The speakers dwindled down, longer between each person standing to share kind words or a story. When the silence seemed to stretch he finally pushed himself up, before Ned could sit down from having shared his own words about May.
He approached the little stand they had set up, hands sweaty; he was sure even if he tried he couldn't stick to any wall. His throat was dry, breathing impossible. He looked out over the sitting crowd, some eyes kind, others red and puffy and still more looking at him with sympathy. None of that bothered him.
A glance to the side, where her casket rested, had his breathing hitching, hands tight to the point of almost breaking the stand had he not reigned in his control at the last second. A hand was on his back, Mr. Leeds, Peter glanced up, tears already on his cheeks. "Take your time." He nodded, shifting and wiping his face with the back of his hand despite the tissues there on the little stand for speakers to use.
He didn't remember what he said. There were some laughs, some jokes trying to capture her wonderful spirit, there were tears as he talked of missing her and how a light had gone out in the world- he didn't really say something that corny of course but he'd said just as much in his own way.
Tears ended up free falling as he struggled through before thanking everyone, letting them know how much it meant to him, and to May that they were there. He'd joked at some point about eating her out of house and home as any teenage boy would do so it seemed like the perfect way to close, by mentioning the wake and food. Mr. Leeds gave him a nod before Peter returned to his seat where Mrs. Leeds was ready to envelope him in a hug and he continued to cry into her shoulder.
He cried for May. He had cried for May, but in a selfish way he cried for himself.
The funeral did little to help him overcome the fact that May was gone. The chapter wasn't over, the book wasn't closed. The funeral had brought two facts to light.
First- Emma wasn't meant to house him permanently so following the funeral he'd been given information about his upcoming transfer to a more long-term group home for teens, wards of the state.
Second- Tony wasn't coming.
It hurt, it hit him like a ton of bricks...or maybe a thousand tons of bricks given his abilities. Whatever, it hit hard. He'd called, he'd left a message...surely Happy heard, he'd let Tony know right? Peter knew Iron Man was busy but surely, he'd come to the funeral? Peter had been seeing all the posts, the UN wouldn't let the Avengers take action so...so it wasn't like he was busy on missions… Unless they were secret missions but still...Wouldn't...wouldn't he come? Or call? Or text?
Nothing.
Tony wasn't coming, that meant his relocation was a reality. And it hurt. Ned had brought it up once or twice, asking if he'd heard from Mr. Stark and Peter was ashamed of the fact that he'd hung up on his friend. He couldn't take it. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to face the truth. Tony had given him the suit, but...but that was it. An exchange of a good for a service, for his help in Germany, it was the only explanation. Who had he been fooling? The idea that Tony Stark would come to his rescue?
There wasn't much time before the funeral to worry about it, and afterwards things were moving too quickly. He was told to pack up- assuming his suitcase and backpack would be searched again- wherever he was going, Peter did the only thing he could think of. Wearing the suit under his clothing wouldn't work- it rode too high up on his neck and the gloves were attached. He did however wear it under his clothing, pressed between his front and his outerwear. The legs ran down his pants, the suit held in place by a snug waist line with the arms wrapped around his chest- not knotted as that would stick out but wrapped around as best as possible. The mask had been shoved down inside the chest of the suit and Peter was thankful his shirt was a bit loose and wrinkled, it would hide proof of the suit's existence. He hoped.
Did it matter? Of course. Was he still Spiderman? He...wasn't sure. Well, he was, he could still climb walls and all, but his webbing...he'd been running low, meant to make some in school… But that was before. He shook his head with a sigh, staring out the window as the woman (turns out his social worker's name was, ironically Karen) drove him to the group home he'd be staying at. She'd told him the place was run by a mother son duo and that he was very lucky, she'd pulled some strings to get him placed into the house. She told him of percentages, how the kids who were there ended up successful. She talked about the positives and he knew what she wasn't saying, how easy it would be to fall into the system. Ha, he was in the system. It was a twisted sort of funny.
She told him that the estate was being handled, that any revenue from the sale of the estate would go into a fund that he would receive when he turned 18, something to help him out. She used those terms, but he knew what she meant. Their apartment, everything that had been left behind, May's things, it had been sold. He was numb to it.
The drive would last hours, headed upstate from the city and he wondered how close they were to the Avenger's facility. It didn't matter of course, his heart sank. Two sides of him at war. He was in every way still the hopeful kid- but the moment those thoughts came to the forefront of his mind they were trampled under the harsh reality of his situation.
Eventually the one-sided conversation would taper off, Karen turned on some music and Peter shifted trying to get comfortable.
He had no idea where they were when they exited the highway, he hadn't been paying enough attention to the signs, and before long they were rolling up to a...to a building. It was on the border of what appeared to be residential and business areas. Not really business looking...but certainly not a house. It was a two-story building that sorta resembled one of those rent- a -halls Peter saw on some of May's Hallmark movies. Where they had baby showers and all that boring stuff.
The building itself was in good condition, there was some basic seating outside in a small but well-kept yard. Some plants and flowers lined the outside of the building, disappearing around the back where Pete assumed they continued all the way around. It wasn't a horrible building by any means, showing its age but in a maintained sort of way. It didn't matter. It wasn't home; but there wasn't a home to go back to.
"Come on Pete." Karen requested as she got out of the car. He adjusted the suit under his shirt before getting out, grabbing his things as he had before and following her inside.
The moment the door opened for him he was assaulted, like a wall, invading his senses and setting off his spidey sense. He stumbled, eyes wide on alert but unable to pinpoint the direction of the danger. "What...what is that?!" He wondered, a bit panicked.
Karen only chuckled, "Oh...yes I'm sorry, I forgot to mention. Mrs. Henly likes to use natural oils and other things, completely harmless and I'd say way better than the smell of the city wouldn't you?" She wasn't aware of his senses going crazy and Peter focused hard to keep it that way. For all Karen observed he was no different than any other teen boy she'd brought to this house, instantly assaulted as if personally offended by the sweet smell of peppermint oil, lavender or other fresh (albeit feminine) scents.
"Karen is that you?" Another voice called from within. Peter was getting his bearings, realizing they were in a large open space of sorts. To one side a decent sized flat screen tv with a few couches and chairs, the other end seemed to be lunch room style seating with a few round tables and folding chairs. Beyond that a wall with a pass-through window which seemed to lead to a kitchen. If something was cooking he couldn't tell over the smell. Peppermint, it was...had it always been so nasty? He was pretty sure he'd had a candy cane at some point and wasn't this disgusted but...then again, he and May liked the Sweetart ones. May.
"We're out here." Karen called back as another woman came out. She had brown hair in a sort bob cut, Peter wasn't sure how old she was, he didn't exactly go around guessing women's ages, but she was certainly older than Karen or Emma. She was a little on the heavier side with crow's feet at the corners of her eyes. As someone who never had extended family to reference he'd say she was either an old mom, or a younger grandma. Maybe, it didn't really matter. She was the adult and he was, well he was the kid.
"Oh hello, you must be Peter," She gave as she neared them, having left through a side door off the kitchen. "I'm Abigail Henly. The boys just call me Mrs. H." Was offered, not going for a handshake or hug, instead offering just a little wave. Like Emma, she'd dealt with all sorts of cases and touch could be a trigger. "My son, John- He helps me with the house. I think you'll like it here Peter. John's out running some errands, but I can help you get settled and then maybe you can help me finish up dinner before everyone gets home from school?" He nodded deftly. What would refusing earn him? Nothing in the long run. "Alright why don't you say goodbye to Karen."
He blinked, glancing between the two. "...bye." He didn't feel any sort of attachment, not that the other had done anything wrong but he didn't think it was that big of a moment. Karen remained polite, letting him know she'd be checking in on him but saw herself out before Peter's attention turned back to Mrs. Henly.
"This way Peter." She instructed, leading him through a doorway that led to a hall with a few doors. "The showers are here, my room and John's are also located on the first floor. There's an office- John mostly uses that but there's also a computer for school use." He had his laptop so he wasn't really worried. There was another door or two but they didn't pass them on their way to the stairs so for now they remained a mystery. Mrs. Henly moved up them slowly, leaning heavily on the handrail. Bad knees, she'd explain to Peter as he followed her up.
She would go on to point out the various bedrooms here, naming some of the boys. Who Peter might like, who is a little troublesome. She spoke affectionately about all of them. Peter wanted to hate her, to simply loath this whole situation but she wasn't evil, and he didn't have the mindset for that sort of thing. He was too distracted to focus on his emotions anyway, his spidey sense continued to flare. Normally it would alert him, duck, dodge, behind you, look up, look down. It would go off and instinctually he'd be able to take action to avoid danger even if he didn't actually see it yet. Here and now it was going off as if danger was in every direction but no matter where he looked there was nothing. It wasn't painful so much as it was persistent.
"You're in here dear, with Toby." She motioned for him to set his things down on the twin sized bed and he did. "He's a good boy." She offered, "About your age." As she spoke she would 'help' him unpack, very similar to how Emma had. He didn't fight it, didn't argue. It was demeaning and degrading in a way, why was he being treated like he'd done something wrong? Still, his biggest secret was well kept and that was all that mattered.
When she was done she turned to him, assessing. He could be carrying something on his person but Mrs. Henly didn't think him the type and there was nothing in his file to indicate such so instead a quick luggage check was all he got. Trust but verify and don't tighten the noose until you were given reason to. That's what her father had always taught her and that was how she ran her house.
"Alright dear, John will go over some of the formal rules for the house but keep your nose clean and we won't have any reason to revisit them. We're the reasonable sort, we'll be nice just as long as you don't take that for granted and we'll do everything we can to help you as long as you work with us okay?" He nodded, still silent. Did she...did she not smell that? Was it not overwhelming? Was this what those noseblind commercials were talking about?
"Everyone should be home in a little while; would you like to help me downstairs?" She wondered, giving him the choice.
"Can I... Can I just stay here?" He wondered, she nodded.
"Of course dear. I expect you to join us for dinner, we'll introduce you to everyone then. I'll send Toby up to get you when it's ready if we don't see you sooner." With that and a reminder that she would be right downstairs- she stepped out, moving down the hall before slowly descending the stairs.
He sighed, moving to the window and immediately lifting it, it only opened about half way but it was enough for the fresh air to give him some relief. Peppermint. Bleh. After a few deep breaths that did little, the scent still thick in the air, he straightened up and glanced around the room. He needed somewhere to hide the suit. Chocolate brown eyes would search but this facility was meant to keep hiding spots to a minimum and if Tony Stark had proved anything- he was terrible at hiding his suit.
Unless.
He glanced towards the window kicking off his shoes before moving over to it, it wasn't open super wide but wide enough. Several long minutes were spent looking to see if anyone could see the window but thankfully, this side of the building opened up to the back of some sort of large cement building over an alleyway, some business located on the other side. Deciding it was now or never he only paused to grab a black t shirt from his things before crawling out the window and onto the roof. He breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't hear or see anyone catch sight of him.
The roof was flat, with a lip about knee height which blocked him from view if he stayed towards the center or crouched down. There was an access door but from the looks of it, no one had used it in some time- felt a flood of relief. He spent a little while looking around for signs that anyone came up there but was satisfied in the end. The suit would be wrapped up in the black shirt to make it less noticeable and stuffed into one of the corners behind a pipe coming out of the roof. A bit of debris was added just to help keep attention from it- just in case, before he carefully made his way back down and into his room.
Secret safe-ish. He sighed and collapsed onto his bed, feeling like the mattress itself was soaked in peppermint. He groaned as he pulled the flat pillow to his chest, hugging it there. He missed May. He missed her so much, but he didn't have the time to sit here and mourn her. He knew he was alone. He was alone, no one was going to help him, he had to make this work. He had Ned- Ned's family, but he knew they couldn't take him in, if Tony Stark wasn't going to help him how could he expect anyone else to? He wouldn't cut his friend out of his life, but he also wasn't going to expect that they be able to do anything to save him from...from his situation.
His spidey sense continued to flare and he curled around the pillow. What was it? Why was it giving him trouble? There was nothing here! The danger couldn't be everywhere! That didn't make any sense.
Whether he fell asleep or blacked out he wasn't certain, but the next time Peter came around it was to someone knocking on the opened door, "Hey new kid! Dinner's ready let's go!" He blinked, sluggish, his head was pounding. His spidey sense didn't seem to be bothering him as much but that could just be due to the headache.
"I'm up...I'm up." There were voices, so many voices coming from downstairs. It was too loud. He shook it off. He'd fought Captain America- he couldn't let a headache get the better of him. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he rolled out of bed, pulling his shoes back on if only to feel a little more confident before making his way downstairs, following the other teen who introduced himself as Toby.
The other teen wasn't much different than him, on the thinner side, slightly lighter hair and skin but otherwise an average teen. Peter didn't much pay attention to those sorts of details. The others he saw crowded around the tables ranged in ages- all maybe thirteen or older if he had to guess with varying shades of skin and hair and eyes. Introductions were quick, they were a wild pack of teenage boys and Mrs. Henly was a saint to be keeping them.
John introduced himself, he was around May's age, maybe a little older, he offered out his hand for a firm shake that Peter returned before he was guided to a chair. After the semi organized introductions, dinner- which was lasagna with garlic bread, was served. The noise level increased as the conversations started back up. He flinched but focused on keeping his breathing calm through the headache and simply turned his attention to the plate of food he was offered. He was hungry but quickly noticed that once everyone had a wedge of pasta and a piece of bread, there was no more, unless it was hidden in the kitchen. The food was enough- would have been enough for him before coming into his powers but now he knew he'd be counting the hours until breakfast.
Questions were tossed his way. How old was he, where did he live before, how long had he been in the system- Mrs. H shushed a boy for that question. What sort of movies did he like, music, all the easy things with no one needing to ask why exactly he was there. This, today, here and now, it was the beginning of the rest of his life.
He must have zoned out at some point, "Peter?" he blinked, glancing over to the older man. "Peter I was asking if you're feeling alright. You've hardly touched your food." The man sounded kind and concerned, nodding towards the plate in front of the teen.
Peter followed the gesture before blinking as he looked around, almost everyone was finished, he was hungry, how had he spaced out so bad? "Ye-yeah it's fine...Sorry. I just...I've had a headache." A growing one, if it wasn't the pain it was his spidey sense going off and distracting him. He didn't want to risk losing out on the meal and despite feeling uneasy he would wolf down his dinner in record time.
"Brad, Des. You two are on clean up." Two echoes of 'Yes Mrs. H.' Were given when all the teens began to disperse after the meal save for the two tasked with cleaning off the tables and doing the dishes.
John stood, his focus remaining on their newest addition, "Peter? Will you come talk with me?" The teen hero nodded and followed him to his office. John made sure to leave the office door open while motioning for Peter to sit. It wasn't a very fancy room, an ikea style desk with an older but decent computer on it, another smaller desk against the wall held a second computer, messy stacks of paper rested here and there about the room gave it a very lived in feel.
For a moment, the smell of peppermint drifted away and Peter let out a sigh only to have his senses assaulted by another. He must have made a face because John chuckled, "Is it the smell? Sorry. Mom goes a little over board with the natural remedies and cleaning products. Peppermint oil has a million and one uses according to her and having grown up with it I can't really argue. My office, my smells though. Let's be honest Pete, peppermint isn't the most manly scent."
"What is it?" He wondered, the different scent, part of it smelled good, like really good, but part of it seemed to make his stomach flip, or maybe that was just the headache brought on by his spidey sense acting up- or maybe the spidey sense was acting up because of the headache? Which had come first? He couldn't really recall.
"Citronella oil. I think it smells like lemons." Peter liked lemonade but...there was something that was just off about it. John didn't focus on it too much, most of the kids that came through were equally confused and surprised. Then again most of them weren't used to three meals a day and a bed to call their own, not all came like Peter- with no living family. Most came from abuse situations, some came from parents mentally no longer able to care for them, some from drug houses and more. Each kid had their own story and John would personally say that Peter's situation was a bit rare.
"So Peter. Let's talk, a lot has happened. I've been told that you're a smart kid, going to a science school in the city?" He wondered, he had the file but this was to get the conversation going.
Peter shrugged, still modest. "Science and tech...I wasn't the smartest though."
"Still, that's something to be a little proud of. I'm sorry about your situation and honestly, I can't promise you everything's going to be amazing and better instantly. What I can promise is that while you're here, I'm going to do what I can to help you. That's a two-way street, you understand? I get that you're going through a lot right now, I've seen it before and I don't want you to think the first time you screw up is the end of the world, but I need you to be smart about your actions. There are a lot of places teens end up when they have nowhere to go and I think you're smart enough to realize that this place isn't so bad." Objectively, everything John was saying made sense, from the outside looking in it was a clean building, in good repair- if lived in, he had a bed, food, even some creature comforts like the TV he'd seen and could hear being watched in the other room. It didn't make him feel better though, so he only numbly nodded.
"We have some major rules but mostly we've got guidelines, you're old enough to make decisions for yourself, you just need to decide if those decisions allow you to continue living in this house or move you to a facility that will make decisions for you." Was that some sort of warning? A threat? No...Peter understood, this place was probably the best he was going to get, it was friendly advice, screw up and he could end up in one of those horror story places. He didn't want that. He had to make the best of this. No one was coming for him.
"Do you have any questions for me?" Did he? Peter shook his head. He had a million questions and none of them John could answer.
The next hour was spent listening to various bits of information. Where he would go to school and when, what the routine of the house was, how everyone chipped in for chores. School was walking distance, so he could choose to walk as some boys did, or John dropped them off and picked them up with the large van he had parked out front. Peter hadn't seen it yet, but he could imagine the sort it was- one with twelve seats or so like churches used.
Peter would have his share of the responsibilities and when he turned sixteen he could work on getting a job. John was somewhat happy to say that there were several places in town he worked with willing to give the boys a start, fast food and the grocery store for examples.
It was an important conversation, but Peter struggled to take it all in. His head hurt, his stomach was doing flips, there was a ringing in his ears that grew deafening. Breathing came short as John continued to calmly explain how life in the house worked until the older man snapped his name, "Peter?" Panicked brown eyes met the call of his name and John shifted out of his seat, "Easy… Easy Peter just breathe. Okay? Just breathe. Come on, tilt your head down, hands up…" John moved around his desk to help the other, bending him a little at the waist and helping him lace his hands on top of his head before John rubbed at his back while Peter struggled to breathe through his panic attack.
It could have been seconds or minutes later he wasn't sure but eventually the world came back into focus and he could once again hear John's voice, calm and encouraging. "That's it. In and out. It's okay."
"I-I'm...I'm sorry…" He blurted out, shaking as arms went around his frame.
"It's alright Peter. Nothing to be sorry about. Why don't we get you to bed okay? The weekend is coming up, there's no rush to do anything but get used to things alright? Don't worry, we won't give you toilet cleaning duty your first week here." John tried to offer a small joke, squeezing's Pete shoulder but it fell short as Peter merely latched onto the idea of ending the conversation.
Standing and following John out he caught sight of a few others near the entrance to the large living and dining space, freezing for a second, they all stared before he caught several expressions and dread set in. The door had been open. They knew he'd had a panic attack and from the looks of it, they weren't as okay with it as John was. He was already the outcast among outcasts.
He felt the sting in his eyes, tears threatening to well up. He didn't care, he shouldn't care- It was high school all over again- but it was different, he lived here, with them. There would be no escape and he was just being pathetic. He tried to remind himself that he'd faced down Captain America. He was stronger than this, but as John stopped at his room, Peter barely managed to offer a good night without his voice cracking before muffling his sobs against the flat pillow. He could only be thankful that Toby came back to the room sometime after he'd cried himself to sleep.
So that's it, another chapter done. How many times can I have Peter cry himself to sleep?
Opened my back door this morning to realize the gate was open and one of my dogs was gone. Felt sheer and utter terror until I spotted her across the way at the neighbor's. Going to use that motivation when Tony catches up to the 'what's happening with Peter' story.
