Hello everyone. Wow, it's been a long time since I've written for this Fandom. Over 4 years now. After my Whumptober project life got super busy, and then I got out of my writing habit.

I know I should be working on the next installment of my "Unacknowledged Cries" series, and believe me I tried. I spent the last couple of months trying to write up the next story but just couldn't get the inspiration. It didn't help when I reread the first installment and realize how rusty my writing has gotten. So I finally decided to just start a new story in hopes that it will boost my inspiration.

Sorry for the long AN. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Peter Parker stood in a rattling old elevator, back leaning against the side, mindlessly bobbing his head to the tune that came out of his headphones. An old school backpack slung over his right shoulder, and a brown paper prescription bag held in his left hand. The pills inside rattled every couple of seconds as his hand moved to the beat of the song. Peter normally would take the stairs up to the apartment he shared with his Aunt May; but his Spiderman potrol after school today had a bit more crime than normal. So he was a bit more tired than normal. Plus he had to stop at the Pharmacy to pick up May's Prescription before coming home, and that added extra time since he changed out of his Spiderman suit before going into the Pharmacy. It was just easier running home afterwards rather than taking time to find a spot to change back into the suit and swing back.

Or maybe that was all excuses to hide the fact that he was just feeling a bit lazy today. It's not like running up seven flights of steps was a challenge for him post spider bite. It would have been almost impossible before he was bit by that spider. He sometimes had to use the elevator for appearances, because who in their right mind would climb up seven stories when a perfectly good elevator was nearby.

The elevator suddenly gave a particularly loud rattle that would have alarmed anyone who wasn't familiar with the building. Ok, so many the elevator wasn't running perfectly, but Peter had heard that same sound so many times now, he didn't think twice about it anymore. It was just how the elevator sounded. It was old.

Peter pushed his body away from the wall he was leaning against, as he felt the elevator began to slow down when it approached his floor. The doors opened with a ding! Stepping out of the old clunker, the teen reached his free hand into his jeans pocket and pulled the apartment key out. By the time he reached the front door, the key was facing the proper direction to be inserted into the keyhole. "May, I'm back!" he called out as the door opened, and he stepped inside, closing it behind him.

He did not see his aunt in the front room or the kitchen, which meant she was probably in her bedroom. Peter walked into the kitchen, where he set the pharmacy bag on the table. The paper making a crinkling sound as it hit the surface. He then pulled the MP3 player out of his pocket to turn off, and tugged the headphones out of his ears. "May?" he called again with some confusion, since she didn't respond as she normally would have when he came home. This wasn't one of her work days, perhaps she was taking a nap.

With a shug, Peter opened up the refrigerator and stuck his head in, looking for a predinner snack. It was about dinner time now, being almost 7 in the evening; and since there wasn't any evidence of his aunt recently cooking, Peter assumed that it would be takeout for dinner tonight. Aunt May didn't always have the energy to cook dinner nowadays, not that she was ever really good at it. But it was at least editable most of the time.

Thinking about how late it was, Peter now wished he had called to ask if May wanted him to bring some dinner back before coming home. At this rate they'd be having a pretty late dinner.

"What the hell are you doing here!"

With his head currently deep inside the refrigerator, and not expecting his aunt's unusually sharp voice, it's not surprising that the boy's head banged against the top of the fridge in surprise. With a soft yelp, Peter quickly turned to face his aunt; using one hand to rub the back of his smarting head, and using the other shut the refrigerator. Aunt May was looking at him with a mix of shock, fear, and mistrust. She obviously didn't recognize him, and his heart sank down into his stomach. It was going to be one of those nights…

"Aunt May it's me, Peter," the teen calmly responded in a clear but soft voice. This has happened a few times before, and it usually didn't take too long to get her to remember. Sometimes all it took was just the mention of his name.

Unfortunately it didn't seem like it was going to be that easy, since no recognition filled her eyes at his declaration. "Leave this apartment right now, or I will call the police," May responded, her voice shaking unsteadily.

Peter slowly reached his hands out towards her, as one might do when confronting a frightened animal. "May, please listen to me. I'm your nephew… Peter. I live here with you. My room is right down the hall-"

"I don't have any nephews!" May interrupted and Peter could hear her tone quickly rising with fear. It was clear now, that he needed to calm her down, or she would start getting hysterical. It only happened once, but there was a time she became so frightened that the resulted screaming for help caused the neighbors to call the police. That was quite an embarrassing moment for the both of them. By the time the police arrived, May's memory was back to normal and they had to explain to the police about his aunt's recent illness. Even after that, the cops insisted on hearing from May's doctor to confirm their story before leaving. May was practically back to hysterics over guilt by the time they left; which meant Peter had to endure days of her apologizing and doing everything she could possibly think of to make it up to him.

To say the least, Peter did not want a repeat of that experience. In his previous experiences, when he couldn't convince his aunt with words alone that she was just having a memory lapse, showing her a picture of the two of them together would always do the trick. At least get her to calm down long enough for the episode to pass. Unfortunately he was in the kitchen, and there were no nearby pictures to show her. The closest frame stood on an end table in the front room, and he would need to walk past May in order to grab it to show her. That wasn't ideal when she was in such a state. But it was his last option.

"Please May, listen to me. I can prove that I'm your nephew. There is a picture of you, me and Uncle Ben just over here," Peter began to take slow tentative steps towards his aunt, so he could grab the photo frame. "If you would just let me-"

"Stop right there!" May shouted almost the moment he began moving. To Peter's shock and horror, his aunt suddenly pulled a small handgun that he didn't notice she had been holding, and pointed it right at him. "Don't you dare come near me!"

Peter instantly froze in place, a feeling of pins and needles running down his spine and a great fear he was unused to associating with his kind sweet, mild tempered aunt washed over him. Bullets were no laughing matter. Peter was made of stern stuff after the spiderbite, but he was far from bulletproof. In fact, even though he had accelerated healing now; a gunshot wound could be fatal if he was shot in the right place. That was a lesson he figured out a few months ago when he didn't dodge a bullet fast enough, and it ended up embedded in his shoulder. That was a new level of pain he wasn't keen to feel again. He'd somehow managed to swing his way to the Avengers Compound Upstate, but lost consciousness from the pain moments after arriving.

Luckily his suits AI Karen had already notified Mr. Stark of the situation, and was able to get Peter into emergency surgery to get the bullet removed. It took over a month for him to fully recover, which may seem like a short time for a bullet wound. But being used to his injuries and broken bones healing hours to days after the event, recovery seemed to take forever. May had almost banned him from his Spiderman hobby all together after that event. It took a lot of convincing from both him and Mr. Stark, along with many other safety upgrades to his suit before she was convinced to let him continue. His aunt had received her official diagnosis shortly after that event, and even though there was no scientific evidence to back up the claims; Peter couldn't help but blame himself for her sudden decline in health.

Peter's hands were quickly raised into the air, the moment his brain clicked into place that May was pointing a loaded gun at him. Where the heck did she even get a gun from anyways? There was a vague recollection from his childhood of occasionally hearing about a gun that his uncle Ben owned. But Peter had never seen it before, and wasn't even sure it actually existed.

At least until now.

"M-May… please," Peter weakly spoke, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

Up until this point Peter would have never thought his aunt capable of harming him. It was practically laughable. Even when she had these memory lapses, she never got violent to the point where the teen feared for his safety. She would normally fear for her own safety, which left Peter the task of calming her down enough to remind her that she was safe. Not this time though. She had taken a step up in her attempts to stay safe. "You get out of this apartment right now, or you swear I'll shoot you!" the woman shouted, sounding as scared as he felt. That probably made the situation ten times worse. Nothing good ever came out of a terrified person holding a deadly weapon.

"All right… all right. I'm leaving," Peter quickly informed her, slowly taking backwards steps towards the front door. May followed him just as slowly, making sure the distance between them stayed the same. She still pointed the gun right at his chest, its tip quivering in her shaking hands.

After what felt like an eternity, his back came in contact with the front door. Making sure he didn't take his eyes off of his aunt or the gun in her hands, Peter fumbled behind his back until he felt the door knob. He hadn't realized how sweaty his hands had gotten, until he felt his grip slick around the doorknob a couple times before he was able to successfully open the door and slip out.

Once Peter was safely out of the apartment, he walked a few paces away from the door before the mixed feelings hit him like a tidal wave. He felt relief at no longer facing down the barrel of a gun, terror that his aunt was willing to cause him harm, guilt for being the one to cause all this in the first place, and sorrow as the reality of what just happened. It all washed over him, making his knees give out. He collapsed on the dirty floor of the apartment hallway, as if he could no longer bear the weight of all those feelings. Tears began to slide down his cheek. What was he going to do now? He was just lucky that his phone was still in his pocket.

Oh no! What is wrong with Aunt May? Is it alzheimer's … dementia….or something else…?

Find out in chapter 2

Also this story takes place roughly 6 months after Spiderman Homecoming. And we are going to pretend that Thanos doesn't exist and Infinity Wars never happened. As much as I LOVE ❤️ Spiderman No Way Home (seriously it's my all time favorite Spiderman Movie. I refer to it as "everything I never knew I ever wanted") I still haven't forgiven Endgame for killing off our Irondad