A/N: Whooo chapter two~ Hope you guys are liking it so far. Loki's name is going to be funky for just a little while guys, and same goes for his behavior- concussions don't leave you feeling your best you know. I spent a few hours on the phone with hospitals discussing hospital protocol for amnesia patients, but things were simplified a bit for the sake of getting on with the fic. Hopefully nobody minds.

Also, there will be Amazing Spiderman spoilers now. You have been warned- also, this takes place awhile after that movie, I'd say half a year or more? (Also yes, this will be the ordinary chapter length. The delay however, hopefully not regular. I'm going to be busy for awhile though- on top of camp we now have rehearsal, which is awesome but might slow down updates for various stories.)

"Peter, I'm pretty sure this is illegal."

"What gives you that idea?"

"Probably the twelve signs we've already passed that say "No entrance permitted past one AM, violators will be prosecuted". Or women's intuition, it's never failed me yet."

No kidding. If it came down to it, Peter would probably put Gwen's "intuition" above even his spider-senses in any situation where he felt caution was actually a necessity. In Central Park, however, he felt he was more than adequate protection for the both of them (the supervillains had avoided this place so far, it seemed like they all had a proper respect for tourism and tacky statues). "I think I've done the law's job enough times to merit harmlessly breaking it every now and again. Hey, Balto."

The dog statue had always been one of his favorites, just because it was so wonderfully out of place beside all the imposing war heroes and political leaders. Good for Balto. "You know, I'm ninety percent sure it doesn't work that way." Gwen replied, in that pretending-not-to-be sarcastic way of hers that was somehow ten times more sarcastic than he could ever manage.

Peter grinned at her, knowing she wouldn't protest now that they were looking at the interesting stuff. She had a soft spot for the park- everyone did- and had always despised the crowds, mostly because the sheer amount of untrustworthy activity made Peter's senses go haywire and she hated the way he kept jerking his head every which-way in search of murderous intent. So a nighttime stroll had to be the best decision, and really after all the times he had saved this city Peter thought he was more than entitled to an undisturbed date with his girlfriend, somewhere almost normal. It wasn't like they were alone, either- people "broke in" to the park at night all the time. New York really didn't sleep, thankfully, so the city lights were enough to keep the flowers and statues and what-have-you all lit up (also, unfortunately, enough to light them up, but Peter was really counting on nobody looking) enough that they could get a good look at things.

And Gwen wanted to do just that. Actually get a good look at things- a good, long look, that Peter figured would have gotten really, really boring after about forty minutes if every nerve in his body hadn't gone haywire after exactly twenty-two and a half.

He'd had trouble with the Sense before, but it had never actually made his head ache, not even when a bullet was headed for his chest. The pain lasted only about two seconds, but subsided into something more familiar and probably only minimally less dangerous. "Something's here."

"Anyone we know?" Gwen asked quickly, not at all stunned by the idea of a horrible threat stalking them through Central Park.

"It's not an attack or anything, it's just… something, here." No threat to him, directly anyway, but something all the same. He looked around, eyebrows drawn together and web canisters ready if anything got to close to either of them.

"Something." Gwen's voice had dropped, become not-quite-hushed in that way it always did when they were watching a movie either particularly horrific, or unbearably sad. (Not the Titanic though, she was always too focused on trying to figure out whether that thing Rose was floating on could have held them both or not to care much about the whole freezing-boyfriend thing.)

Peter groaned inwardly and followed her gaze, not all that startled to spot three specks of blood polka-dotting the floor about eight feet away. "Wait here." She nodded (he knew, even with his back turned), and he kept half his awareness on her and half on the blood as he walked forward.

Really, blood in New York wasn't as uncommon as he'd have liked. In Central Park, however, that sort of thing was almost unheard of, and the stuff on the floor was both fresh, and way dark. From down deep, then, as was the small smear of it (like a hand coated in the stuff had scraped over the ground, darker where the palm had pushed someone upright) just a few feet away. More dots, a few lines, one almost-puddle. It was like a macabre trail of breadcrumbs, and Peter beckoned for Gwen to keep within his sight but well back as he followed it, becoming slowly aware of the smell of burning flesh and hair. God, how he hated knowing what that smelled like.

The tingling stopped around the same time that the sounds of city traffic and distant drunkenness broke by a ragged sort of breathing, audible only because Peter was listening for it (and because he was, well, Peter and his ears could work like that). He rounded a statue of Alice in Wonderland (another misfit statue, but not one that really seemed to stand for much other than acid-trip literature), semi-crouched and web canisters ready, eyes trained on the ground so that he caught sight of the "something" as soon as he was within sight. Peter's first instincts (and yes, plural, the crime-fighter and the superhero, then the teenage boy and the photographer) were conflicting, telling him first to check for concussion, but also to take a picture before anything changed.

The scene was highly photogenic, in a really horrific sort of way. The stranger had landed not far from the edge of the first step (at the back of the semi-large circle of stone on which the statue rested) and his injury had left a waterfall of sorts down the stairs that gathered into a dark red pool around the bench leg. There was even kind of a ripple directly around the stranger's body where his shallow breathing must have disrupted the "puddle" of sorts nearest him and splayed it out by his head. It could have been cool aside from the fact that it was a lot of blood, most of which seems to be pouring from his left temple, which was gushing the stuff even then at a rate which was actually visible. Not good. The stranger's expensive, simplistic black clothes were ruined now with blood staining the entire left side and bits of the front, but at least he was breathing. That might make up for the loss of fancy clothing.

"Right. Safe to come over, Gwen, but it's um- it's not exactly pretty," Peter called. She peeked her head around the statue and gagged at the sight, ducking away for a few moments before returning, pale and a little nervous but purposefully stalwart.

She'd seen Peter looking bad enough, though, that she joined him crouched on the ground and only winced sympathetically when she reached out to feel the stranger's gaunt cheek. "He's freezing. Do you think he was mugged? I didn't see anybody else around here."

Peter checked the man's pockets ("Honestly, Peter?") and found them empty- no wallet, no phone, no cash. "Looks like it. Here, hold this to his head, see if you can slow that down." He pulled off his jacket and offered it over, waiting until his hands were free before bending forward carefully to slide open the man's eyelid. Pupils huge but uneven, and completely unresponsive to the light from his phone, the waving of his fingers, even being blown on quickly. "He's either dead, or he has a concussion."

"He's breathing."

"Concussion then."

Gwen rolled her eyes, in a way he liked to assume was fond, and lessened the pressure she was applying to the man's head wound. He hadn't even twitched in response to the contact, so Peter assumed the injury had gone numb, meaning it was more likely to be fatal. Great. "Think he'd stick to it if I made a stretcher out of the webs?"

"Yes. We should probably check the back of his head too, in case he cracked it when he fell- I'll call an ambulance."

"Ambulance? 911 will not be happy that we were in here." At closer inspection the wound looked like it was from a blade, not a fall, and Peter wouldn't have trusted them to move him anyway. "Do you know any shady doctors who could do this for us?"

The obvious aside, there was more to worry about than the slash to the temple (which was too wide to be from any knife Peter knew of). There were cuts and scrapes all over his face, most of which looked older but had been torn open by… something. A victim of repeat abuse, maybe? And his hair was smoking, literally smoking, long and black and curling at the edges where three or four inches of it had already been burnt beyond repair. His neck had caught some of the effects, but none of the damage was too bad. Peter hoped the guy wasn't vain- his clothes were gone, his face battered and hair out for the count. That cut was probably going to leave one nasty scar, too.

Gwen had ignored his "protests", and her phone was out before Peter could make any pretend attempts to stop her. "Hello? My boyfriend and I found somebody, and he's badly injured. We think he has a concussion, could I get an ambulance out here, please? Central Park, by the Alice statue."

"We're going to get arrested." Peter whined, failing to ignore the pitiful little shudder of pain their mystery man gave as his breath began to lose whatever rhythm it had had. Yeah, he definitely needed to get to the hospital, quickly. "Or are we protected under the good Samaritan law? Doesn't matter, Aunt May's going to kill me whether I land in jail or not."

"No, we've never met before, Gwen and I just found him today. The park was deserted, but we saw him hobbling toward it and decided to follow."

Telling the story for a fourth time was making it a lot easier for Peter not to screw up the imagined details, and he didn't even need to glance at Gwen anymore to confirm that they were spinning the same yarn. The cops, the emergency response, the receptionist, and now the doctor- the dark haired stranger was going to be a celebrity by the time he woke up. Hopefully not, actually; if this ended up on the news Aunt May would probably kill her reckless nephew, or whoever had beaten this guy up would stroll on back to finish the job. "We wanted to make sure he wasn't covered in someone else's blood before we called an ambulance, you know? And her dad was with the police, we were pretty sure we could handle one mugger. I've taken Tae Kwon Do."

It was worth the whole story just to see the Doctor's astonishment- she must have been ready to cry when she imagined Peter's upbringing. Of course, he could have handled any trouble, but this woman had no idea that she was talking with her friendly neighborhood Spiderman. He just sounded like some moron kid who was wholly convinced he was immortal, and relied on the television to teach him how people took on the bad guys. "Right. Well, that's actually a horrible idea, but I'm glad you found him. We should be grateful your girlfriend knew what to do, at least."

Leg's up, body warm, lots of shaking and forced alertness (or a semblance of it, anyway). It had all helped, but Peter resented that the doctor just assumed all the protocol had been Gwen's idea. "We took a few first aid classes." More like they had common sense, but doctors never seemed to trust in that. "So, how is he?"

"Well, you were right about the concussion. He's also got a few cracked ribs, some internal bleeding scattered over his body, and a bit of a fever. But nothing fatal, he should be out of here in about two days." The doctor explained, checking her clipboard to confirm these bare-bone details. Peter was convinced they just did that to look more important.

Whatever, the guy was alive- he felt a surge of relief and smiled to show it, which had the doctor mimicking his mirth. Hospitals were way too sullen, a little smiling could do them good. "So do rescuers get special privileges, or do I have to wait for visiting hours?"

Peter wanted to get the whole story before he went home- Gwen was falling half asleep in one of those awful plastic chairs, but he was too wired for it. If somebody was following him, they weren't some simple thugs- the spider sense had made that clear enough. "Normally you wouldn't have been allowed past the reception area. But we need to observe his speech to see how badly addled he really is, and we think that if he's a victim he'll be more calm if his "rescuer" is there when his head clears up. You said he was conscious at points?"

"More like he couldn't decide whether his eyes were supposed to be open or not while he was asleep but yeah, he woke up for a bit." Even talked, though he'd been so badly slurred that it was almost an insult to coherent speech. The whole deal with concussion patients was keeping them awake for at least twelve hours, but it had been a lost cause from the get-go. Peter had his fingers crossed that there wouldn't be too many ill effects to thank for this.

"Well, if we're lucky he'll remember that. A familiar face should do some good," The doctor tucked her clipboard under her arm, and Peter felt strangely inadequate without one, like his thoughts couldn't be recorded and therefore were less important. No doubt that was the clipboard's true purpose, why else wouldn't doctors just get an iPhone like everyone else in New York? "If you want, you can go in there now- he's awake, but alone for the time being."

"He's up?" Peter glanced at the room, but it didn't do him any good. The windows were curtained and the door windowless- the doctors probably had a way of watching him, but they'd given their patient plenty of privacy. "Can Gwen come with me? She's a lot better with people than I am, and she's a pretty girl. That usually helps."

Gwen blinked open one eye, smiling slightly at the compliment but rolling her eyes at him for giving it. "Don't let him fool you, Peter's actually a bit of a genius. If you don't mind, ma'am? I wanted to ask him a few questions."

"It's a meeting, not an interrogation. Just get a basic story, nothing too stressful, and find out his name. Hopefully he has family nearby," the Doctor (Miss Kirby, according to her badge) lowered her clipboard at last, tapping it against the outside of her thigh. "Be prepared for him to have some trouble speaking- he's lucky he didn't go blind from a blow like that. If he seems too dazed or agitated give an excuse to leave, then send one of us inside. I'll be watching, but some people tend to find the sight of the coat unnerving when they first wake up."

The both of them took that as permission, so it surprised nobody when Gwen turned immediately toward the door barring her from the injured man. She had a bit of a protective streak that Peter found both adorable, and a little unfortunate- it drove her crazy how often he got himself hurt. A quick farewell "thanks" and he was following after her, making sure not to open the door far enough for the man to notice any doctors in the hall.

Then again, the man seemed to barely notice even them (again, to no surprise), nor did he seem to be all that disturbed by his surroundings. At first Peter smiled, relieved, but that morphed into a frown he shared with Gwen, because there was nothing normal about that reaction at all. Waking up with a killer headache, burns and cuts all over your body and bandages stuck to the side of your head in an unfamiliar white-washed room with an IV in your arm should have been terrifying for anybody. Their stranger, however, seemed mostly curious, and a little bit drowsy in that blinking-really-slow sort of way.

"Hello." He turned, eyes furrowed slightly toward Gwen as she spoke, slowly approaching the bed with her winning smile placating any nerves he may have had. "I'm Gwen Stacy- me and Peter here found you in the park. Your head doing okay?"

For a long moment it looked as if he didn't understand her, but then the stranger nodded. "I… it hurts but I think I am all right. I was in a park? Um, Gwen?"

Nice accent- Peter marked down British in his mental description of the man, along with rich because that voice was too cultured not to be. So at least he'd be able to afford a better haircut than the job the hospital had done- it was a little uneven in the back, badly disproportionate on the left and right, and as curly as sheep's wool. He had the strange urge to ruffle it, but thankfully didn't act on it. Becoming a superhero hadn't done anything to ease the awkwardness of introductory conversation."The park, yeah. Central Park. You remember going there?" He wondered, and only then did the man seem to realize he was there as well despite the introduction Gwen had made for him.

"No, what's Central Park?" Stranger-danger wondered, and then Peter knew they were really in trouble. Who came to New York City and didn't know about Central park?

"It's just a big park, lots of statues and trees," Gwen explained levelly, waving it off as if his lack of knowledge was perfectly common, and Peter mimicked her rather than give any potentially stressful clues about the stranger's so-far abnormality. "So you don't know why you were there, mister…? I'm sorry, I don't know your name. If you had a wallet or ID, it's gone now."

"Wallet?" The man blinked a few times, processing the rest of her question. "Ah, my name… no, I can't recall. A name- that's like 'Gwen', yes?"

"Yours would be closet to Peter, I think," Gwen offered, now looking at Peter with obvious concern. "Okay, so you don't know your name, that's fine. Do you know where you live?"

"I… No, I don't."

"Let's simplify things, what do you remember?" Peter cut in, moving over to get a better look at no-name's eyes. They were still a little cloudy with pupils that were dilated and slow to respond, but what worried him the most was how passively the man reacted to being inspected. He was completely nonchalant, maybe curious in a very vague sort of way but entirely unconcerned about having a stranger come up and prod at his head.

"Remember?" He took a few seconds to decipher what this meant, then shook his head once more. "Nothing, I'm afraid. English. Once you say it I remember it, anyway. Or once I speak it…"

There was definitely a slur still coloring his voice, and the stranger seemed to recognize it. He frowned slightly, and looked at Peter for the first time with real emotion- he looked scared, and young, but he must have been at least twenty-five if not thirty. "Don't worry, the doctors said there's no permanent damage. Though it looks like your memory's a lost cause. Um, pardon the accidental tasteless pun, I swear that wasn't on purpose."

"Nothing permanent. Do you know what happened, then?"

"We think somebody robbed you- your head was bleeding pretty bad, and it looked like somebody had tried to burn your hair," Gwen supplied helpfully.

"What- do you mean my hair burnt?" Nameless wondered, reaching up to paw at the ends as if expecting to find them on fire.

"Uh, yeah, but don't worry, burnt is past tense, that's hopefully all the fire you'll ever get on your head." Peter glanced helplessly toward the door, but no doctors came to their rescue just yet. Poor guy looked like he needed a lot more answers than either Peter or Gwen were going to be able to give him. "We need something to call you- what name do you want?"

"Do people usually pick their names?"

"Nope. Hey, you're special, how 'bout that?"

"I... don't know any names," he admitted, frowning wearily. He probably wanted to get back to sleep, but it wouldn't be safe and having something to call himself might make the waking world a little easier to handle.

"Well we both know plenty. Let's see… what about the hospital?" Gwen suggested, eyes turning away from a plastic cup with the name printed on it to smile encouragingly at Peter.

Not bad, actually- it would definitely stick until he remembered his actual name, but he couldn't resist some feigned misinterpretation at its expense all the same. "I don't know, "Permanente" seems a little mean, all things considered."

"Before he confuses you, let me explain that Peter is an illogical human being and nothing that comes out of his mouth should be trusted without extreme screening for the possibility of an attempted joke," She elaborated helpfully, and the stranger nodded without even a hint of a smile. "I meant Kaiser. It's not exactly conventional, but I think it suits him. What do you think?"

"It doesn't sound familiar. But very well, Kaiser is fine." The newly dubbed "Kaiser" nodded slowly, lazily, and his head stayed down a moment longer than was reassuring. "I don't mean to be rude- but can I go back to sleep, now?"

"Not yet, let the doctors get a quick look at you and they'll tell you when you can. They have to do some… annoying doctor stuff, but I don't think it'll take long. There questions will probably make more sense than ours did, anyway," Peter assured, though he had a feeling nothing would make much sense to Kaiser right now, and took a step toward the door.

Gwen took the same cue to exit, with a few warm smiles and a goodbye to serve for both her and Peter, then followed him out of the room just as the doctors crossed into it. She folded her arms, raised an eyebrow, and shook her head- all pre-emptive severity and Peter wasn't sure whether it would be safer to talk or let her get the first word. Damned woman's intuition. "Okay, you don't even know what I'm going to do yet."

"Yes, I do. You're going to go home, spin that same story for Aunt May, then adopt an amnesiac who's probably twice your age."

"No way, Aunt May gets the truth," Peter defended because honestly, he probably wouldn't be able to fool her anyway. "Look, whatever attacked that guy wasn't some normal mugger. There's something after him, I can tell, and whatever it is isn't human. If he goes off into some recovery program he'll be dead on the streets in two weeks, tops."

"Let me take him, then. Trouble loves you, you hardly need to invite any more of it. We have room since-" Gwen looked for a second like she might say more, but instead closed her eyes for a moment then raised them to look at Peter, pleading and worried. "For all you know, he could be the danger. He might just be playing you, waiting for a chance."

"No, no way. I'm not putting you at risk, Gwen- I shouldn't even be around you." Not to mention how awful he felt that he was, but Gwen wouldn't and couldn't be ignored, and it was better to be with her and have her in danger than to avoid her and have her in danger anyway. At least he could keep an eye on her this way. "Look, if he's at our house I can keep an eye on him and be ready if something comes after him. I don't want to put Aunt May in danger, but if she found out about Kaiser and heard that I didn't offer him a place to stay, she'd probably flay me alive."

"And what happens if they don't let him leave with you?"

"It's that, or they keep him here. Protocol says they have to circulate a description of him, but they only have to keep him in the hospital if he's got nowhere else to go. I asked the receptionist, they have a social services program here. So long as Aunt May and I can prove that we're able to provide any medical care he needs, it's legal. I'm not asking for you to do anything, Gwen. I don't want you to get involved in this."

They held gazes for a moment, neither of them challenging the other but each trying their hardest to work out what exactly was going on, what they should do next. At last she nodded firmly, folded her arms, and shook her head. "Nope, you're not getting all the fun out of this. Besides, I named him. I know plenty of people in the NYPD, let's go look up how to keep this legal."

Kaiser didn't like hospitals- though that felt less like a memory, and more like a discovery. Perhaps that was what he'd feel like whenever he remembered something, but he was distinctly certain that his dislike was a new development. Everything felt so detached, like everybody there was doing their best to assure everybody else that they weren't there even though they were, and he didn't need that at all. He wanted normalcy, he wanted somebody to turn to him and say, "You are here, in the hospital we named you after, and you don't know anything." It would be better than the fragile treatment he was getting now, like actually grounding him would make him break.

The doctors came to talk to him all the time, but they weren't telling him much. One asked if he had a family, and he'd hoped with each second that he would remember a father, a mother, an uncle or a sibling of some sort. But it wasn't until they asked if he was married that he even felt…. anything. He'd been left there, staring at his hand for twenty minutes until they had left uncertainly, letting him search for some discoloration in the skin, something to indicate he'd had a ring and lost it. He had no money, no ID, it was possible that he'd had an engagement or wedding ring stolen, right? But Kaiser took even that in stride and only shrugged, figuring that if he'd ever married somebody then they would be the first thing he remembered.

What first made him fearful, or nervous, however, was being told that if his memory didn't return or he had nowhere else to go the hospital may very well keep him there for months.

He found out, then, that he was very good with his words. His personal doctor- he didn't try to learn her name, he was far too scared of forgetting it- saw his distress and mentioned something, absently, of a family under screening that, with any luck, would be allowed to keep him under their wing. If he wanted, of course. Kaiser had spoken without thinking, smiled and half-veiled his eyes where he thought might be appropriate, furrowed his brow in pitiful confusion at other points, and widened his eyes with what felt like hope when the doctor seemed to be considering anything. He was rewarded just two days later (seven days, six hours, twenty nine minutes since he'd woken up in the hospital- time wouldn't leave him alone, he was far too aware of the rest of the world around him while oblivious to the one inside him) with one of the only two faces he could have known, and one he recognized only through similarity.

Peter was bearing bruises he hadn't had during any of the other times he'd stopped by to visit Kaiser, but he was smiling much more brightly. The woman beside him, whose features were gratefully similar to Peter's and therefore not unnerving to be introduced to, was smiling as well, softer than the boy. Kaiser's head was a constant bother to him, and it had been revealed that he was sporting a cracked rip- but he was no longer confined to bed, and the two of them found him engrossed in a book, thick-backed and only one of many he had torn through in his time there.

"I told you about my Aunt May, right?" Peter wondered in way of greeting, stepping aside to wave both arms toward the woman as though he were making a presentation. "Well, ta-da! Here she is, the prime candidate for "world's most amazing older woman"."

"If you just called me old, Peter Parker, you can spend the next week scrubbing every floor in my house," May warned, turning a scolding gaze on him that didn't look harsh, no, but… stern, almost protective? Kaiser wondered if he had ever seen it before.

"Um, right. World's most awesome woman… period?"

"That's much better," She patted him affectionately on the arm, which had him grinning once again, and turned toward Kaiser. She looked a little startled by the bandages all along his face, or the splint on his wounded wrist, but she only frowned sympathetically and offered a hand to him. "Hello, there. I'm sorry it's been so long- I had quite the fight before the hospital would let us keep you."

Kaiser's hand hesitated in hers, and all thoughts for A Tale of Two Cities lay forgotten beside the book, splayed sadly out on the desk he'd been left. "Pleasure to meet you, but… I am afraid that I don't understand. 'Keep me'?"

"Not in a literal sense. You're coming back to our place- you know, until you remember where you actually live," Peter beamed, holding out a wrinkled plastic bag with the name of what was probably a store plastered on the front and waved it when Kaiser only stared. He realized that he was meant to take it and did so with what he'd learned was a winning smile, nudging the bag open curiously. "They're mine. They run a little big, and you're a bit taller than me, so we figured they might fit."

"But- why?" Two people he didn't know, giving him clothes and letting him into their home- Kaiser looked them up and down, and registered that they were dressed no better than any other he had seen passing through the halls. Worse than many. Could they afford a guest, let alone a fully grown man with no legal papers or any sort? He'd been told that may be a problem. "I- the offer is greatly appreciated, but I would not wish to be a burden."

"Now, I won't hear any of that," May scolded, and Kaiser moved back an inch or so on instinctual surprise at her tone. "My husband told us once that if you could do a good thing for another person than you were morally bound to do it. As far as I can see it, he wouldn't be too happy with us if we left you here. Peter saw a man in need of help, and he wants to help him."

That didn't seem rational. Kaiser frowned, trying to puzzle out the logic in it, but supposed that was just another social tendency he'd forgotten- he'd already noticed people doing plenty of things that made no sense. "Then I thank you for your hospitality, but I am not sure I can accept it." A place to live was a much better thing to have than a room in a wretched white-walled building full of the ill and angry, but Kaiser knew better already than to accept the first, even second offer. If he wished to be living with these people, accepting their help, he wanted to make a good impression on the owner of the home. "Peter has already saved my life."

"Or maybe I mugged you, and this is all an elaborate cover-up," Peter suggested, which May didn't seem too happy about.

"Well if that's the case I'd like my wallet back."

"But the leather was embroidered and everything!"

"Peter," May scolded with something of a sigh. "We're helping you because Peter saved your life. Poor boy's been worried about you."

Whether her tone was joking or not, Kaiser couldn't help a bit of a laugh. Real hospitality… he would be a fool to turn them down. "Well, can't have Peter worrying. I don't know if he could take the stress."

"My poor heart would never survive the strain," Peter agreed, swooning dramatically and falling back onto the currently unoccupied hospital bed. "But really, we've got it all checked out. We have three or four bags stuffed with medicine and stuff that the hospital gave us for you, and we kind of converted the room next to me into something livable, instead of a horrible storage full of moldy books from our formerly flooded basement."

A room? They'd already made him out a room for him? They must have been so confident that he would come- but really, Kaiser had no choice but to accept. Not that he wished for a different choice. Peter was one of few people he was willing to even look at since waking up. "I- thank you. Very much, I don't know how I can repay you." The books the hospital had lent him often mentioned repayment, closing up debts. He'd have to do something like that, wouldn't he?

He wouldn't know how to do that, and there would be quite a bit to repay. Perhaps he shouldn't go- his head was aching with pain, so he wouldn't be able to give any aid that involved thought. He couldn't even help with the room they'd made, with his ribs and wrist like they were. Likely he wouldn't be able to do more than he was doing now at the hospital- read for those six or seven hours during the day that he was actually able to rouse himself from sleep. He'd asked the doctors why he slept so much after realizing through his novels that most people spent their days awake for as long as possible. Apparently his body was using that to recover, but they looked nervous when they said it- even now he was drowsy. Clouded.

"Don't be ridiculous," May scolded, smiling down at him in a very… calming sort of way. He smiled back, still feeling just as tired but much more like he was allowed to be feeling so. "We don't want anything from you. Now go on, change into those. Peter and I will be waiting outside."

She smiled at him again and turned from the room, seeming to understand that Peter would want to hesitate for a moment. "Look, Aunt May is going to be terrified if you don't come with us. I told her about you being attacked, she agrees with me that whoever went after you might try to come back- just, strength in numbers, yeah?" Peter gave him a rough thump on his back and grinned, waiting for Kaiser to do the same (sans thumping), before hurrying after his Aunt. He stopped in the doorway- or, rather, turned around so that he exited it while walking backwards- for one last comment. "It's freezing outside, so I'd put on the coat if I were you. And uh, yeah, that's it. So see you in a minute, well just be here."

He closed the door with a bit of a crash, and Kaiser grimaced slightly but couldn't help laughing at the muffled "Sorry!" that came from behind the door. The hospital was very strict about silence- he'd been moved to a room that was mostly secluded because of that, though he still didn't know what that meant. He never made much noise.

For a long moment Kaiser didn't move, but eventually he stood and changed out of the ill-fitting clothes he had been given by the hospital once it was clear he would be a long-term visitor. Peter's old clothing was too small, but it was much more comfortable, and the leather coat fit nicely around his body. He must have been cold without realizing it, because the weight was almost relaxing. He started toward the door with his hand extended nervously (he hadn't left the room except while half conscious when he changed his living space, what was he supposed to do once he had?) but stopped before he even touched it. His books- well, they weren't really his, but he had read them and didn't want to leave without them. He knew those stories better than his own.

But there would be more at Peter's house- the boy was smart, certainly the reading type. His backpack when he dropped by after school, which was apparently almost off on winter break, was always stuffed full of reading material. So Kaiser shucked off his longing and walked nervously through the door, clutching the bag of borrowed clothing in one hand.

May was speaking with a nurse, and Peter was playing with some small device in his hand- a phone, most likely, though Kaiser had yet to read a book that offered a physical description of the little machines. He shuffled his feet apprehensively, wondering what he was meant to do, but within moments everybody had turned to him anyway, and he could do nothing but freeze. He hated the nurses, the way they looked at him. It was more that he wasn't used to it yet, really, but he still didn't like it. They studied him, and he didn't feel like it was fair that they should try to learn things about him that he was still unaware of.

"Ah, so you're ready to go?" The nurse beamed at him and stepped forward with her hand extended. Kaiser took it with a bright smile, ignoring his unease. "If you ever feel unusually light-headed or ill come right back here. And never feel afraid to just drop by- we'll all be sorry to see you go."

Kaiser nodded, trying to meet her gaze steadily. He was fully aware that he'd become a sort of pet for the people who worked here, but seven days was not enough for him to consider them friends- not like he did Peter, who he liked not because he had helped him but because he was good company. Better than them by far. "I will. I- am I really going, just like that?"

"Just like that. Hospitals don't keep people longer than they need to be there," The nurse acted as if this were a bad thing, somehow, but Kaiser felt tension bleeding from his shoulders. He was leaving. "Remember, no exercise or lifting until we approve you, and avoid loud noises or bright lights when you can. And Kaiser; if you remember anything at all please come back here immediately."

Kaiser nodded, intending never to do anything of the sort, and waited patiently while May finished a few hushed conversations with the nurse, and a bit of tedious-looking paperwork. Peter finished whatever he was doing on his phone after a few minutes and came to stand beside him, but neither of them spoke. The younger boy hummed and tapped his foot in time with music that didn't exist, and Kaiser's lip twitched up in silent laughter. Peter certainly was a strange kid, wasn't he? Gwen was as well, in a far subtler way, but she hadn't been around more than once since that first night. Kaiser didn't mind, he'd been surprised to see her again at all.

"Kaiser?" He flinched, turning nervously toward the voice, and found Peter watching him with an odd expression. "When you space out you uh… you really space out, don't you? Okay there?"

"Of course, I am well," Kaiser replied slowly, smiling once more. He could hardly keep on his feet, but there was nowhere to sleep here and no sense in doing it. "Tired."

"Once we're home you can sleep the night away. I say night, but it's like, four o' clock. Head wounds take that much out of you?" Peter reached up to rub a bit of bruising on his cheek, as if he thought he too would find himself exhausted constantly as a result. The boy no doubt knew more about injury and healing than did most of the staff in the hospital, so Kaiser only humored his teasing with a brightened smile.

May must have heard them, or perhaps her glance toward them let her see too much of Kaiser's weariness, for concern flashed over her eyes and she was done with the nurse two minutes later. She put her hand on his arm, and there was definitely something familiar about the touch- which was unusual. He did not think he had any aunts. "I should call a cab, I don't think you're fit for the subway just yet."

The subway. Kaiser had read about it, and New York's was the site for many favorite scenes in the best of his books. He wanted to see it, but he knew it would be exhausting. "I can manage it. It is quicker, no? With uh… traffic?"

"Oh, do you remember driving?" The nurse looked hopeful, but Kaiser was not sorry to clarify.

"No, I read about it. And have heard the staff complaining of it."

All his knowledge came from books, but what did they expect? He could learn from conversations, but he had had very few of those yet. May seemed unsurprised however, and only nodded understandingly, but her hand never dropped from his arm, and soon Peter's had clamped over his shoulder. He realized he was swaying on his feet and quickly steadied himself before the nurse could notice. Both hands were removed at their own pace, for which Kaiser was more than grateful, and after a long stretch of silence he bowed his head in a farewell to the employee. Time to leave.

They made it through the building just fine (though there was more paperwork at the desk, and a few questions Kaiser had to suffer through answering), but exiting was not an easy affair. It was a simple problem with a not so simple solution-Peter could not, for all his and Aunt May's efforts, get Kaiser to actually step onto the pavement.

He'd already noticed that the guy was… well… unusual, but he figured amnesia could do that to a person and let it be. But now he was growing kind of worried, and he could see that Aunt May was too, hear it in her voice as she tried to draw Kaiser's attention. He didn't seem to notice. His eyes were darting everywhere, much too quickly, like the whole thing was an overload of the senses and his mind was just going to pop from all of it- Peter knew that feeling all too well, but Kaiser didn't have a super-powered spider bite to be moving his eyes so quickly, flickering over each individual face in the crowd as if he had time to memorize them before moving on. The streets weren't even that busy, not for New York. Peter vowed that it would be a long, long time before they brought Kaiser anywhere near Time Square.

It was probably to be expected that he would be a little overwhelmed, so Peter glanced at his Aunt and shook his head just slightly, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop her from worrying all the same. It was a few very boring and yet very worrisome minutes before Kaiser jerked back to reality as if he had merely been startled, and turned, blinking, toward Peter. He must have recognized his concern and deduced the reason for it, because a sort of frustrated embarrassment flashed through his eyes before he nodded apologetically and stepped forward at long last. He wasn't the steadiest on his feet and yet Peter was sure his help would do no real good, so he only stuck to Kaiser's side. Aunt May, however, had no such inhibitions.

She looped her arm in his, like she sometimes did when Peter was walking her home much too late at night, and steered him to the right when he turned in the wrong direction, allowing herself to appear the tag-along and not the leader. If Kaiser had perceived this the illusion would have been complete, but the man looked baffled by his sudden "captivity" and only consented to be pulled along without even a hint of his usual below-the-surface air of authority. So rather than helpful, he just looked kind of goofy."Prick your finger on the spinning wheel, Kai?"

Sleeping beauty grinned drowsily at the reference, and Peter wondered if he must have read it or if the classics had just survived his memory loss. Probably not, it didn't look like much had. "I've remembered something: concussions are exhausting."

"That doesn't count- discovery, not memory."

"Are we keeping score then?"

"Remembering your real name earns you a free experience boost."

Even without video gaming experience Kaiser chuckled at the concept of the joke and some of that twitchiness seemed to wash away, though he still looked dead on his feet. They'd expected that though, at least a few days of exhaustion before their new long-term guest would be up to something resembling ordinary life. Being hurt sucked, and even with superpowers Peter found himself wanting to just lie down and forget the world when some bad guy got a luck shot. Kaiser could sleep though, without any world-saving responsibilities to shirk. Sometimes Peter thought that must be nice, not having thousands or millions or more lives resting on your shoulders, but he always got over it pretty quickly. Nobody had forced him to take up the job (though the pay was nonexistent and let's face it, the health care plan was awful).

Kaiser didn't really enjoy the trip. The crowds were unnerving but not problematic, but people looked at him and depending on whether they saw Aunt May helping him or the bandages first either laughed or shied away from him. It wasn't as if injury could be contagious, and yet mothers seemed nervous about letting their children anywhere near him. Maybe they thought he was involved with somebody dangerous. That could have been interesting- had he been in a gang? It would explain a lot, and for a moment Kaiser spun himself a fake and somewhat violent history, but then realized that if he had angered any gangs then somebody would likely arrive at May's door with a gun, so he wiped that idea away as they descended through a hole in the street, which was apparently nothing to be worried about.

The hole led to an even more condensed crowd, and an absolutely awful smell of sweat, trash, and a few other things he didn't want to think about. The place was an absolute mess, in need of cleaning and some proper ventilation, but he suppressed his disgust well enough. Peter and May seemed unbothered- were they used to it, or was this a common state of things? The hospital, he knew, was cleaner than most things he would see, but this was a bit of an… extreme difference. All the same he followed the two, listening to Peter's instructions and explanations, through crowds, stairs, spinning metal bars, and muggy tunnels with gum-lathered benches until their transportation arrived.

Which appeared to be nothing more than a giant metal tube. No, it was fine, he'd read about subways- but he didn't want to get on the thing, even when the doors slid open in invitation. The amount of people inside that wretched machine… "How- how long are we in there?"

"Not long. Don't worry, next station's huge, most of these people will clear on out," Peter assured, thankfully making no physical attempt to encourage him forward. "Should we wait for the next one?"

No, Kaiser would not be treated like a fragile thing, some invalid. He could deal with this, some ride on a train. He shook his head, and met May's eye, unsurprised to see her mouth open- no protest waiting, but an assurance that he could wait if he wanted to. All the same his gaze silenced it, and with a smile that was far too knowing for somebody like her she pulled her arm away, leaving Kaiser feeling slightly alone as he stepped onto the subway beside them, moments before the door slammed shut.

"Bet you wish you'd gotten amnesia out in New Hampshire or something, huh?" Peter prodded, reaching out with almost unnatural speed to catch Kaiser by the upper arm when the subway jerked forward, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Hey, anyone got a seat for the concussion patient?"

"Peter."

"Kaiser. Wow, okay, your name is a lot more intimidating than mine, I think I'm actually going to shut up now."

Despite his embarrassment, Kaiser couldn't help a bit of a laugh. Luckily nobody seemed to heed Peter's comment, aside from one young boy who made the mistake of snorting and rolling his eyes from where he sat. A mistake only because May noticed him, and proceeded to give one of the most misleadingly-pleasant lectures Kaiser could ever imagine, let alone actually suffer through. The poor boy practically fled his seat.

He would have laughed, except she turned on him moments after and pointed toward the abandoned seat that nobody yet seemed brave enough to fill. "Arguing will get you nowhere," Peter warned, and Kaiser only nodded mutely. He sat down, slowly, fighting back an almost vicious sort of embarrassment. He needed their help, not their coddling.

Fuming in annoyance-despite the quiet thanks he offered both the boy and May- proved futile as well, apparently, because not even a minute into his somewhat-sulking he opened his eyes from a brief pause to find the subway car almost empty, the doors open and floor stilled. The world different, as it always seemed to be after sleep had claimed him. It was a familiar sensation by now, so he only blinked off the remaining threads of drowsiness and let Peter aid him to his feet without conscious protest. He was glad to see the boy hurrying afterward to offer a hand to his Aunt, who had thankfully found a seat at some point.

Peter doubted that Kaiser remembered even a second of what happened from that point onward. They got him home easily enough, asking a few routine questions on the way, and Aunt May even talked him into dressing properly for bed. But aside from relaxing slightly inside the home, he gave no sign to show that he was fully aware of where he was- except maybe when he hit the bed, because he was asleep within seconds of lying down.

"Is this… normal?" Aunt May wondered, standing beside him outside the doorway once she had shut it closed, determined to give the man some privacy.

"So long as he doesn't start sleeping for longer intervals at a time, I think we're good," Peter promised. That many injuries were bound to take a lot out of a guy. "He's just tired, it'll wear off in a few days."

She seemed skeptical but satisfied for the moment. "Well, so long as he's there for dinner. You make sure he's not late, Peter Parker, or neither of you is getting anything," She brandished an imaginary cooking utensil in his direction, a smile on her face all the while, and left him in the hallway to go get something cooked up.

Peter's work was simple, but not short. He got the medicine set up in the cabinet pretty easily- all of it marked for "John Doe" as per hospital policy, despite the name everyone had willingly applied to Kaiser- but spent a long while after calling up favors and video-chat counseling with Gwen, planning out something of a life for their not-so-little "adoptee".