May 2012

The next day was...awkward to say the least.

The Abbotts, Sarah especially, were stepping around Peter as if he were made of sugar and one wrong word would send him crumbling to pieces.

But Peter wasn't exactly helping them either. He deflected any attempt at communication they flung at him. He was trying, he really was; but he just didn't know how to speak with them anymore. He realized that the more the day progressed, the more he shut down on himself; but he couldn't help it. He felt bad every time he left a question unanswered, even one as simple as "Do you want cereals for breakfast?" He felt bad for every reply he didn't give immediately, and he felt worse for every second that went by coated in a thick silence, widening the gap between him and the Abbotts.

He felt sour on the inside. He didn't know where the negativity came from, and he was certain it wasn't directed at the Abbotts, who were just doing their best to help what they thought was a helpless child. Yet, words still wouldn't come.

For the Abbotts, it felt like they had regressed to day one, all the progress made in the last few days lost in that one, unfaithful night.

Peter didn't say anything when Bob screwed his window to the frame, sealing it shut.

He didn't say anything either when Bob checked on his injuries and looked baffled when he discovered under the bandages cuts that looked weeks old and scars almost faded. But Peter sure gave him a look that said 'I told you so.'

Peter was in the living room of his Aunt's apartment. Everything was just as he remembered: the comfy blanket rolled into a ball lying abandoned at the feet of the couch, the remote left on the dining table, too far from the TV to be of any convenience, the family pictures of him with May and Ben…

"Aunt May?" Peter called, confused.

"Peter?" answered May from the bathroom, surprised. "Are you back already? I missed you!"

She emerged from her bedroom, all smiles. Peter didn't realize how much her absence had impacted him until her fragrance filled the air. He flung himself into her arms.

"I missed you too May. Are you alright?" he asked, head buried in her shoulder.

"Of course I am," she chuckled, lighthearted. "Thanks for worrying for your old aunt."

Peter would never let her go again. He felt safe in her arms; it was where he belonged. He had missed her so much. So so much.

"I like what you did to your hair," May commented, softly running a hand through his locks.

Peter frowned, confused.

"What I did to my…"

He looked up, and met with his reflection in the entrance mirror. The blond of his hair was striking.

"It's not me."

Peter let go of May.

"Oh, I know! Are you on a secret undercover mission for Nick Fury?"

Peter turned to Ned. He was sitting on the couch, looking his usual enthusiastic self.

"Yell it even louder, I'm sure the tapped microphones didn't catch that," MJ scolded him.

She walked to Peter, gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Hi nerd. You look… smaller."

Peter looked up at her. She was towering over him by at least two heads.

His ears started rigging. He was alarmed by now.

"It's not me, I did not—"

Uncle Ben walked into the room, carrying grocery bags.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Ben stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed Peter.

"Oh hey little guy, you're back!" he noticed, a genuine smile suddenly illuminating his face. "What do you want for dinner?"

Any ability to function like a normal human being left Peter. All he could do was look at his dead Uncle smiling at him, as if nothing had ever happened.

The rigging in his ears turned into a low, deafening rumble. A crack appeared out of nowhere, the fissure in realty growing wider and wider. Tony emerged from it, fell to the ground. He struggled to get back up, one hand never leaving his stomach.

"Pete! Whatever happens, you must stop him!"

So much alarm in his voice. He was panicking.

He staggered to Peter, the giant hole in his stomach slowing down his pace.

Thanos walked through the crack in turn. His eyes locked with Peter's, and immediately Peter's mind was ransacked, every corner of it being ripped off by the giant's willpower. The blow was so powerful, so painful, it took all he had not to fall on his knees.

"I know everything there is to know about you, Peter Parker," said the Titan, slowly. The confidence of someone who knew he had already won was radiating in his voice. "Stay out of it, and you and your family might yet survive."

Tony looked at Peter intently. All the trust, all the confidence he had ever had in him was determinedly written on his face.

"You made a choice. We need to keep fighting. Do you hear me? We can't let him win."

Peter took a step towards Tony.

"I warned you," said Thanos ominously.

He raised his fist…

"No!" Peter cried, his spider-sense going off so strongly it blinded him.

…And snapped his fingers.

The force in his mind was so powerful it blasted Peter awake. He was still shouting. He was still blind. His breathing fast and shallow, he jumped out of his bed, this time managing to free himself from the comforter without getting tangled up in it. He rushed for his bedroom door and threw it open.

Part of him knew he was at the Abbotts; but he was still too caught up in his terror to be fully aware of it. It was the first time the nightmare came back to plague his sleep since the night he decided to go back on patrol. But if the previous iterations had toyed with his fears, this time it had flung them at him, varnished in an extra coat of realism, making up for the few calm nights preceding that one. This time, it got Peter shaking to his core.

As he ran through the dark corridor, his mind couldn't help but replay the snap in a loop. The nightmares had never gone that far before; it felt like he had failed for the second time.

He couldn't let the world end again. He had to do something.

"Benjamin!"

The slap of a hand on a switch and light chased away the darkness. Peter closed his eyes, suddenly blinded, but he kept going. Nothing would stop him.

"Benjamin, stop!"

The voice sounded distant, but the note of panic in it was perfectly clear. Running footsteps heavily slapped the ground behind him, growing closer. Peter reached for the door. He extended his hand. His fingers barely brushed the handle when strong arms took a hold of him, lifted him from the ground and spun him away from the door.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Bob all but shouted in his ear.

"Let me go!" Peter flailed in his grip, one arm trying to free himself, the other wildly hitting around, his heels colliding with Bob's shins. "I have to do something, I have to!"

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere!"

Bob walked away from the door, half carrying Peter, struggling under the boy's blows.

"You don't understand! He's coming! He's coming and I can't let that happen!" implored Peter, despair overtaking him.

"Who's coming?"

Peter put more strength into his struggle.

"Please, just let me go!"

Bob had to pause to try and shield himself from the blows while still holding Peter.

"Hey, calm down, it was just a dream!" he huffed.

"Let me go!"

"Benjamin, stop! You'rehurting me!"

The remnants of his night terror left Peter as he finally realized where he was and what he was doing. Peter stopped struggling, but kept his hold on Bob's arms, panting. He was feeling a mix of horror and relief at how close he had come to doing actual physical damage to Bob.

Bob waited until he was sure Peter had calmed down before he asked.

"You good?"

Peter nodded.

"You won't do anything stupid if I let you go?"

"N-no," Peter answered shakily.

"Alright then."

Bob warily opened his arms, unsure of how much he could trust the kid. But as he freed him, Peter proved true to his words. Apart from staggering a bit on his legs, he didn't move much. Sarah, who had been watching from afar, finally approached them and crouched in front of Peter.

"What happened?" she asked him, visibly shaken.

Peter turned his head away from Sarah, ashamed for having once more caused her trouble.

"Nothing. Just a nightmare, like Bob said."

"Benjamin, talk to us! You'll never get better if you keep closing yourself off!"

Peter squared his jaw shut.

"Why? Why won't you say anything?" Sarah pleaded.

Peter was determined not to say a word. However, he made the mistake of looking into Sarah's eyes when she cupped his chin and made him turn his head towards her. His shell cracked.

"Because— Because I can't make any sense of it myself."

Bob put a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder.

"We can help you sort it all out, you know."

Peter lowered his head, shrugged Bob's hand off.

"I— Sorry, I can't tell you," he refused, his voice small.

"Are you saying that because of what happened last night?" Sarah assumed.

Peter's head shot up.

"What? No, that's not what I—"

Sarah did not let him finish his sentence.

"I know I overreacted last night, I'm sorry." She nibbled at her lower lip. "I guess I owe you an explanation."

She shifted into a seated position, letting herself fall back directly on the floor.

Peter was dumbstruck by the sudden change of subject. It must have been on Sarah's mind all day long for her to take that unexpected direction.

"Honey, you don't have to," intervened Bob comfortingly.

Sarah went for it nonetheless.

"Yesterday, I… panicked. The state you were in… It was close to—"

She took in a shaky breath. Bob sat next to her and took her hand in his own, nudged her to go on with an encouraging smile. Peter felt a jab of homesickness; the couple's relationship reminded him very strongly of his Aunt and Uncle's. Sweet and caring and always supportive of each other.

"As I told you already, we fostered many children, each with their own set of problems," Sarah continued. "It's not the first time things are a bit… difficult. But the only other time one of our children was hurt as badly as you were yesterday…" Tears started to well up in her eyes. She blinked furiously to chase them away. "I told you about Harper, the girl we fostered before you. She was so full of anger, it was like she had a live fire burning inside of her. Working with her was not easy. She had never been placed in a family before; the only thing she knew was the orphanage and the bad company that went with it. These… guys kept getting her in trouble, and at first, she did everything she could to keep associating with them. But she had dreams," Sarah smiled. "She wanted to be an oceanographer. So we put her in a different school. She ended up dropping those people altogether and made new friends. She worked a lot, and hard. She was a changed person, you should have seen her. She still had her issues, but she was working on them. Her proudest moment was when she received a scholarship to ESU. She surprised everyone, but mostly herself. She was so happy, it was such a blessing to witness when only three years prior she wanted nothing else but to drop out of school entirely.

"But her past caught up with her. One of the gangs she had cut ties with wanted to settle some issues with her. They contacted her, lured her into some back alley." Sarah couldn't hold back her sobs anymore. "She was found dead a few days before graduation."

Bob squeezed Sarah's hand tighter.

For Peter, it finally made sense. Sarah's emotional state the night before. Bob's reaction when he learned about the crooks beating him up. He must have thought they were the same people who killed Harper and were now targeting him, as if they were on some kind of vendetta against the Abbotts' children for whatever reason.

Peter stood there, watching this couple mourn the death of a child, and he felt even more terrible for putting them through so much distress now that he had the bigger picture. He was comforted in his decision not to done the suit so long as he was under their care.

His stomach sunk so low the neighbors two stories down below might as well pick it up and sell it to the black market.

"I'm so sorry for your loss. It's not fair," was all Peter could say.

"Life is not always fair," Bob replied, bitterly. "Harper had a bright future and she was robbed of it."

"But you, you're here," Sarah pointed out as she rubbed her tears away. "Whatever happened that day, you survived it. You still have all your life in front of you. I know you're going through a hard time right now, but life goes on and I'm sure great things await you.

"I know you feel like we don't understand, but trust me… We know what it's like to have our world shatter, because that's certainly how it felt the day the police came knocking at our door to tell us the news. And I bet for you, it must have felt like the end of the world back there…"

"It did." Peter could almost smile at the irony.

Sarah grabbed his hand and gently pulled on it, inviting him to join them on the living room floor.

"Talk to us."

Peter tried to ignore her plea.

"I…"

Her hand kept pulling him. It wasn't forcing him to do anything; the touch was light, loving. He knew she would let go if he asked her to.

Maybe that's why he gave up on fighting them. Maybe it would lessen their worry if he talked to them.

He slowly sat down, facing them, and gathered his knees to himself.

"That day, I was with… a friend. The attack had already begun, but there was that thing he had to do. He didn't want me to, but I insisted on coming anyway. I wanted to help, you know? To make sure he would be ok. I…" Peter unconsciously lowered his voice, ashamed. "I did not realize the attack would be that dangerous. My friend got… hurt, because of me. Very badly."

Sarah gasped.

"Is he ok? We could go visit him at the hospital if…" she trailed off, not daring to finish voicing her thought.

"He's alive. I know that much." Peter rested his chin on his knees. He fought against the constriction of his throat. "But he doesn't remember me. There's something very important I have to tell him and he doesn't even know who I am anymore."

Sarah seemed to read him like an open book.

"You feel guilty about what happened to him, don't you?" She asked, her tone compassionate.

Peter nodded. His eyes were starting to water.

"I keep asking myself how things would have turned out if I hadn't been there. Maybe he wouldn't have been k— hurt. Maybe the situation wouldn't have ended as dramatically as it did."

Peter remembered clear as day Doctor Strange's prediction that they couldn't win; he knew they were completely outmatched by Thanos. Yet he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had not been there to get Tony injured, if Tony had still been able to fight.

"Yes, maybe," Sarah conceded. "But you don't know that. Maybe things would have gone way worse. It was so dangerous out there, with the Chitauri raining from the sky. If you had not been where you were that day, maybe you would have died. And maybe your friend would have lost his life…"

Peter closed his eyes before the tears could escape on their own.

"…and you wouldn't have been there to tell the story. Because you were there to see it, you know what happened. You can tell your friend about it when you see him again. There's no use dwelling on the 'what ifs', what matters is that you're here today. With us. What matters is what you are going to do tomorrow, not what you could have done yesterday."

"There's nothing I can do. That… story I have to tell him, he'll never believe it coming from me. I told you, he doesn't remember who I am."

"Well, you don't have to tell him yourself. You could find other ways to get the story across to him."

"Other ways to…" Peter's head shot up. He looked at Sarah, stupefied. "How?"

"I don't know, you'll have to think of a way that you know you can reach your friend. You could write him a letter, or give him a phone call? Or talk to his family."

Peter scoffed, defeated.

"He's not that easily reachable."

"But you are close to him, right?"

"He's like family."

"Then I trust you'll find a way. You're a smart boy."

"Benjamin, there's something I don't understand," intervened Bob. "What about your family?"

Peter pinched his lips, looked away.

"We… uh… got separated during the attack. I don't know anything about what happened to them."

He felt bad for lying again, especially right after having been the most honest he's been in days. But without a birth certificate to at least prove his existence, or anyone to vouch for him, there was no way—

Peter froze on the outside, but his mind was racing.

Maybe there was a way. He didn't dare keep his hopes too high, but maybe, just maybe… He had to check.

Peter hastily got to his feet.

"I should go back to bed, it's very late."

"Are you ok?" Sarah asked, concerned by this sudden fresh energy.

"Yes! You were right, talking to you helped. A lot. I shouldn't bother you any longer, you need sleep too. Good night!"

It took everything in Peter not to straight up run to his room; but his pace was still fast. He was already at his door when the Abbotts called good night after him, a bit surprised.

Peter closed the door behind him and turned on the light. He could feel his heart beating in his head as he crossed his room to the chest, unlocked it and looked for his ripped mask. As he put it on his face, holding it in place, he knew what to expect; but he tried nonetheless.

"Hey Karen, are you there?" he whispered, tentatively. "Pal?"

The lenses obstinately stayed opaque.

He put the mask down, only slightly disappointed, and picked his suit instead, to examine the circuits inside. He laid it on his desk, the tear on top.

Between his panic when he woke up and the damage the suit sustained in the explosion on Titan, the main circuits, as well as the alternate ones, had been cut off, effectively disabling Karen. But upon closer inspection, the mother chip seemed intact; with the tip of his finger, Peter followed the circuit to the USB socket. The whole thing's integrity seemed preserved. Which meant…

Excited, Peter fished out his phone from his backpack. He was welcomed by the discharged icon when he tried to turn it on, but it gave him hope. The battery was just dead; but the phone was still working.

This meant he could attempt to transfer Karen to his phone.

It was a custom Starkphone, made not only to be more resistant to his chaotic lifestyle than regular ones, but was also powerful enough to support an artificial intelligence. Peter had never deemed it useful to have Karen in his pocket — especially since he tried to keep his two lives separate. Any stranger casting unwanted glances at his phone would wonder how a random guy from Queens could have access to such technology; the Stark internship wasn't a good enough reason to explain the possession of a fully functional AI.

But this was an emergency. Peter needed Karen; alone, he could never leave the Abbotts without hurting them. However, with Karen's help…

He needed a phone chord.

The following day was long. Very long.

Not because of the Abbotts; their midnight talk had somehow unlocked something in Peter and, even though he didn't answer any personal questions they would casually ask him, he was more talkative than he'd been in the past few days. He also willingly engaged in every activity they suggested, if only to pass the time; they even went jogging in Central Park, which Peter didn't know he needed until he breathed in the cool morning air. Running was not as liberating as web-swinging or free dropping, but anything that would let him purge his accumulated frustration was good enough. He could have kept running a while longer, but the Abbotts had not "run in a while" and were "not that young anymore". None of them mentioned the strain the lack of sleep the last week had on them, and Peter's stamina was attributed to his youth.

No, the reason why the day felt so painfully long was that, during breakfast, Peter laid eyes on Sarah's phone charger on the kitchen bar.

Peter was tucked into bed a couple of hours before the Abbotts went to sleep. He waited at least another thirty minutes after no sound other than deep breathing could be heard from their bedroom before he ventured out of his own.

He quietly opened his door and tiptoed his way to the living room. After the chaos he previously caused, he expected the Abbotts to be a lot more vigilant, and he wasn't about to risk his chance. He carefully took the charger and successfully made his way back to his bedroom, undetected.

He fervently plugged his phone and sat on the floor, his back to his bed, and went back to waiting until there was enough battery to attempt a transfer. However, after a couple of minutes, — which felt like ten in Peter's defense — he had no patience left. The gleaned six percent of battery were not enough yet, so Peter had to content himself with turning his phone on and browsing through it while it charged.

He opened Instagram first. It loaded looking exactly the same as it was the last time he opened it, but the message 'Couldn't refresh feed' briefly appearing caught his attention. Peter frowned, looked at the top of the screen and bitterly scoffed. No phone services. Obviously. Guess his phone plan didn't extend all the way to 2012.

What he was seeing on his screen was the remnants of 2022, all held up in a few kilobytes of cache memory. Peter opened Michelle's story and was surprised to see that the last picture they took together was loaded. It was a selfie of them both making a face while holding sandwiches, captioned "grabbing a bite with the nerd." Michelle had framed the picture to only show one eye and part of her forehead, as she always did on pictures she intended to share online. The image felt bittersweet in light of the events that would change the course of history but a few hours after the picture was taken.

Peter didn't know why he screenshot the story, but he did.

He kept scrolling through the feed and the stories, curious to know what his friends were up to before the end of the world. He knew the idea was weird and felt wrong and made him feel anxious, but he couldn't help it. However, not all stories were loaded, and the further down he scrolled, the less pictures were available, until none were left.

Instagram had been a mistake. The trip down memory lane had left him starving for more. Seeing pictures of his friends had done nothing but remind him of how much he missed them. Of how alone he was.

He opened his gallery and explored his own aisle of pictures, scrolling through memories of family and friends ten years older than they currently were. Ned making faces at that conference held by Dr. Richards. Selfie with Aunt May after movie night. MJ flipping him off with a smug smile as she noticed the camera. May, Tony and him holding a Stark Internship diploma. Selfie with the Midtown-High decathlon team for graduation day, three years ago. His first date with MJ.

Peter locked his screen and let his phone fall on his lap. He rubbed his eyes with the ball of his hands, exhaling shakily. He knew nothing about how he got there, but he refused to believe there was no chance that this was all temporary and that he wouldn't get his life back. He wouldn't cry.

He gave himself a few more moments to let his emotions settle back before he picked up his phone again.

Forty-one percent. That would do.

Peter jumped to his feet, unplugged the cord from the charger and stormed to the chest. He all but threw his suit on his desk and exposed the USB socket.

He paused for a second in anticipation, pinching the extremity of the phone cord between his thumb and index.

"Alright. Don't let me down, please."

He took in an encouraging breath and plugged his phone into the suit.

At first nothing happened.

Then, a window popped up.

'Do you wish to download Karen to this device?'

Peter hastily pressed 'yes' and almost shouted the word himself as the loading icon appeared on the screen.

"I can't believe it worked," Peter murmured excitedly. "I'm a genius!" Karen would have his back from now on; he wouldn't be alone anymore.

The download completed, and another window popped up.

'Do you wish to switch to Karen's user interface?'

'Yes.'

His old theme vanished to be replaced by a red and blue one with a design similar to the one he had access to in his mask.

A familiar cheerful voice chimed in.

"Good evening, I am Karen your personal assistant. Please identify yourself."

Hearing Karen's voice instantly relieved a lot of tension in Peter's shoulders. Having a part of his past around, Karen especially, made him feel safer.

"Hi Karen, it's so good to hear you. It's Peter," he said, his lips stretching into a big smile.

"Voice recognition failed. Please identify yourself."

Peter's smile dropped as fast as it had come, sweeping along his heart to depths unknown as reality caught back to him.

"Oh no. No, no, no."

"Voice recognition failed. Please identify yourself."

"Karen, it's me! Peter Parker! You have to recognize me."

"Voice recognition failed. Please identify yourself."

Peter picked up his phone and held it in front of his face.

"Karen, scan my retina."

"Retina scan does not match data base 100%. Access denied."

Peter dropped his phone on the desk and took a step back. He would not panic.

Definitely not.

Karen was too close to his reach for him to give up on her now. His mind raced. Maybe she wasn't accessible from the user interface; but Peter, with Ned's help, had messed enough time in her code to know his way around it.

He needed a computer.

Peter silently went back to the living room to borrow Sarah's laptop. As he made his way back to his room with the forbidden loot in his hands, he hoped really hard the Abbotts wouldn't decide to come check on him that night, because he would have one hell of a time finding an excuse as to why he was on their computer at one in the morning.

Putting down the computer on the desk after he brushed aside the useless suit, Peter connected his phone, opened the command prompt and immediately got to work. He entered the series of passwords, passed all the security checks successfully and found the line of code he was looking for. He forced the system to add his current voice and retinas to his profile and restarted his phone.

"Good evening, I am Karen your personal assistant." Karen repeated at start up. "Please identify yourself."

"Peter Parker," he stated, determined.

"Hi Peter, it's been a while! I'm glad to see you made it."

Peter sighed, relieved, and the smile found its way back on his lips.

"Hi Karen, hi… Yeah, you won't believe when I am, though."

"You seem to employ an improper usage of grammar. Should I check you for a concussion?"

It had been a while since Peter had laughed genuinely.

"Wait, you can actually do that from the phone?"

"This smartphone device does not have the required scanners to execute an in depth check. As the suit appears to be offline, I would recommend a trip to the Avengers facility or to the ER depending on your state of emergency."

"No Karen, it's ok, I'm fine. I was actually using the word 'when' on purpose."

"Were you, now?"

"So much has happened; these last few days have been the craziest."

He marked a pause.

"I need an internet connection, give me a sec."

Peter quickly retrieved the wi-fi password from the computer and entered it into his smartphone.

"Ok, now, check online what today's date is."

It took a few seconds for Karen to process.

"There appear to be a contradiction in between the date I am programmed with and the date the internet is providing."

"That's not a mistake. We time traveled." Peter blanked out. "Wow. It's actually the first time I've said it out loud and I'd love to argue that it sounded better in my head, but honestly? It's just as bad. I guess it's one more improbable thing I can add to my surprisingly long list of improbable things that's happened to me."

"I've added time travel to the list."

"Thanks Karen," Peter scoffed.

"But, Peter? I'm not quite sure I understand… I thought time travel was fictitious."

Peter sighed.

"I don't really get it either. I can tell you all I know, but that's not much. Let me just bring that computer back before I get caught with it," he said, laying a hand on said computer.

He stood up and barely made three steps when Karen called after him.

"Peter, I appear to be unable to connect to the Stark servers."

Peter stopped dead in his tracks and spun around, computer clutched in his arms.

"Are you telling me you've been trying to get into their system since you've gotten access to the internet?" he asked, voice flat.

"Yes, Peter."

"Karen, no! Stop that immediately!" he whisper-shouted as he leaped back to the desk.

"Connecting to the Stark servers is an automatic process —"

"Override code: I am the captain of this ship!" he threw wildly.

Him and Ned had implemented this key years ago, when he wanted to get more autonomy, to bypass Tony's control over Karen without his knowledge. It granted him total admin privileges.

"Karen, do not attempt to connect to the Stark servers ever again. Not without my permission. Understood?"

"Yes, Peter."

Somewhere in the apartment, a door opened.

"Shit," Peter cursed.

He threw the suit back in the chest, hid his phone and borrowed properties under his blanket and had just enough time to order Karen to "Mute" before Bob slid his head through the doorway.

"Are you having nightmares again?"

"No. No, I'm fine. I just can't sleep. Did I wake you up?"

"Don't worry about me. Are you ok? Do you need anything?"

"I'll just go back to bed. Try to sleep. Sorry for disturbing you."

Peter made a show of lifting his covers.

"Alright. Good night."

Bob closed the door.

Peter waited until he was back into his room to fish his phone from under the blankets.

"Unmute."

"Peter, who was that?"

"I'll explain. Just…" he put his head in his hands. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"I'm not quite sure I understand," she answered, as confused sounding as the AI could sound.

"Karen, it's 2012. You're not supposed to exist yet. You don't have the authorization to access the servers. It means that, when you try to connect, it can be perceived as a hacking attempt, and the last thing I need is Tony tracing it all back to me."

"I'm sorry Peter. I didn't know it would be an issue."

"It's not your fault. I should have thought about it earlier."

"You'll have to update me on the events I missed. I fail to understand why you are trying to hide from Mr. Stark."

Peter cast a quick glance at his bed. There was no use bringing the computer back as long as Bob might still be awake.

"All right. "

Somewhere else in Manhattan, AC/DC was blaring through a workshop's speakers as a man was toying with holographic projections of the interior of a building.

"Sir, I must inform you that there has been an attack on our system," alerted a disembodied voice with a strong British accent.

The man didn't seem alarmed.

"Did they breach in?"

"No, Sir. They were only trying to gain access to the system by repetitive request. They did not seem threatening, but they were persistent."

"So I'm guessing they didn't do any damage to the system."

"None, Sir."

"Then why are you telling me? This sounds like one of the regular cyber-attacks. Surely you've noticed I'm busy."

"It is because of the signature, Sir. Their cyber-print was quite similar to the ones we use."

This gave the man a pause.

"That's… odd."

"My thoughts exactly, Sir."

"Are you sure it wasn't a glitch?"

"Positive."

"Did you track them?"

"No, Sir. They were too well protected."

"Umph."

The man got back to work.

"Keep an eye on this, Jarvis. And alert me immediately next time they try again."

"Yes, Sir."

"This is illegal, Peter."

"Karen," Peter pleaded. "I can't do this without you."

"You are implying that you wish me to hack the government to create a false birth certificate. I can't condone that."

"Not just for me; for you too."

"Peter…"

"I can't stay here. I've told you why. The plan won't work if I don't have proper ID. Nor you, for that matter."

There was a moment of silence.

"Ok, I'll try my best."

Peter could have kissed her had she been real.

"Good morning!" Peter happily clamored when he walked into the living room. "What's for breakfast?" he asked as he sat down on his chair.

Warm sun rays found their way into the lounge, giving off a golden hue to the room. The day promised to be beautiful, and Peter couldn't help the big smile on his face.

"Well, someone apparently had a good night sleep." Seeing the kid in such a good mood warmed Sarah's heart. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

Peter's smile widened.

"Yeah, me too," he said without thinking.

Bob walked in from the kitchen, a full coffee pitcher in one hand, a box of cereals in the other.

"To answer your question, on the carte this morning you will get a full bowl of Fruit Loops, with the option of adding a supplement of milk should you want to, young man."

"Sounds good to me," replied Peter as he bent forward to grab an empty bowl from the pile in the middle of the table.

Bob set the cereals down near Peter and sat on his own chair. He served a cup of coffee to his wife, to himself, and didn't say anything more until he had had a sip of the blessed beverage.

"This week, I will be the one taking care of you," he said, putting the mug down and looking over at the boy, who was drowning his fruit loops in milk.

Peter pretended he didn't already know it.

"Did you take the week off?" he asked, before stuffing his face with a spoonful of cereals.

"I did." Bob grabbed a piece of toast. "But neither Sarah nor I will be able to do it again next week. Which brings up another problem."

Peter looked at Bob from the corner of his eyes, but didn't react any more than that. He knew fairly well what the problem was, but he still acted clueless.

"You've been here for almost a week now, and we haven't heard a single bit of news about your parents. Maybe we should consider—"

"Bob," Sarah reprimanded him. She took over, using her softest voice. "We don't know where they are or what happened to them, but we'll keep looking. I wish for you to be back with them as soon as possible," she said, turning to Peter, "but… if you were to still be with us next week… We will have to get you back to school."

Here it was. The unwanted bomb.

However, this time it had no effect on Peter. If things went as planned, he would be gone by the following day. He still tried to push down the treacherous thought that things rarely went as planned and kept his composure.

"But you don't have to go to a new one. We can get you back to your old school, with your friends."

Peter saw the quick look the adults exchanged. They were seeing an opportunity to fish for informations from him about his school. But there was no school to go back to, and no past to dig into.

"Errr… I was homeschooled," he lamely said, hoping he was convincing.

Peter couldn't help the pang of compassion he felt when he saw them deflate. They were trying so hard to help him.

"Well then… We will have to sign you up in the local school," Bob announced.

"Is it… Is it a problem for you?" Sarah asked, worriedly.

"Oh no, no, not at all. I have been to school before," Peter tried to reassure them.

What Bob was about to reply got lost in the phone's ringing, suddenly chiming through the living room. He got up to answer, wondering out loud who could be calling this early in the morning. Peter buried his head in his bowl to drink the milk, the gesture being a poor attempt at hiding the big smile that took over his face.

"Hello? This is Bob Abbott speaking."

The answer on the other side of the line got Bob frowning. He quickly glanced at the kid and turned his back to him.

"How did you get this number?… I'm sorry, but why didn't CPS contact us first?"

Stage fright crept on Peter. His moment was coming and he had to make a convincing performance. Why didn't he choose theater club in high school?

Bob turned back to them and Sarah got to her feet; but he didn't look at her. Instead, he handed the phone to Peter.

"Benjamin? It's a woman. She says she's your mom."

Sarah's hand jumped to her mouth. Peter mustered his best surprised look and took the phone.

"Hello?" The boy inquired, putting the phone to his ear.

A few seconds went by, during which the Abbotts could witness the expression on his face morph from a reserved look to one of pure elation.

"Mom! It's really you!" Benjamin exclaimed.

He jumped to his feet.

"I'm so happy to hear you, I missed you so much. I thought..."

He turned his back to the Abbotts and walked a few feet away from them, for privacy.

"But are you ok now? I've been so worried," he answered with a slightly shaky voice after the woman on the other end of the line spoke.

The boy sighed of relief.

"Yes, they've been very nice. I even have my own room!"

He shuffled a bit on his feet.

"Mom, when can I go home?" he asked pleadingly, his voice a few notes higher than usual. "Yes, I know… Ok… I love you too. Bye."

Without ending the call, Benjamin turned back and handed the phone to Mr. Abbott, who immediately proceeded to discuss a time to drop the kid off.

"What a nice surprise. You must be so relieved," Sarah told Benjamin, genuinely caring for him.

The boy nodded.

"I am," he smiled.

Peter walked back to his breakfast, wiping an imaginary tear away under Sarah's benevolent gaze.

Later, when Sarah had gone to the office and Bob busied himself with some paperwork, Peter managed to steal a moment away in his room.

"Karen, that was great! I can't believe it worked!" he excitedly whispered to his phone.

"You yourself gave quite a performance," she complimented.

"I couldn't have done it without you. 'Make your pitch higher'... Where did you get that one?"

"I found that piece of advice listed on a few acting websites."

"Amazing. You're awesome, Karen. Thanks to you, tonight I'm free!"

Sarah managed to get off work earlier so that she could come with Bob and Peter at the point of rendez-vous. Karen had suggested a coffee shop to Bob from a well known chain in Queens to meet them; a coffee shop Peter had elected prior to the morning phone call as he was sure he would get the much needed wi-fi to proceed with his plan, as his phone had no service.

The little group arrived early to the meeting, and insisted Peter order some cake while they waited, deaf to his polite refusal.

As the Abbotts busied themselves with their own plates and drinks, Peter slid his phone out of his pocket to connect to the wi-fi. No sooner had he done so, Bob's cellphone rang.

"Hello?"

His brow furrowed.

"Are you sure you can't get through?"

He marked a pause as he listened to the answer.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I'm sure you can understand why I won't let a child go alone."

Uh oh. Peter stiffened in his chair. The conversation wasn't going as planned.

"I'm afraid we'll have to reschedule. Yes, I know, I'm very sorry about that. Bye."

He hungup and looked apologetically at Peter.

"It was your mom. She said she got off from the hospital in the morning, but she's feeling too weak to come."

"Why can't I go alone? I live nearby, I know the way," Peter pushed even though he knew the Abbotts' position on the matter.

"I'm sure you do, sweety," Sarah smiled compassionately. "That's not the problem."

"We can't let you out of adult supervision," Bob completed. "But you can take us to your place, and that way you can go see your mom tonight. What do you think about that?"

A normal child would have been very happy and very proud to lead the way to his home, and would have taken any opportunity to see his mom again. But Peter had no one he could introduce as a parental figure to Bob and Sarah. Frankly, he knew that having Karen ask for him to go home on his own was a stretch, but he had counted on their benevolence to understand the need Benjamin would have to see his mom again. Unluckily for him, they were too benevolent.

Peter found himself in a tight spot.

However, before he had the opportunity to blow his cover by replying anything, Bob's phone rang again. Peter watched warily, absentmindedly playing with his spoon as Bob picked up once more.

"Hello? This is Bob Abbott speaking."

Just like the precedent call, Bob scowled. He asked a few questions, hummed in agreement and grunted a few times before closing the conversation.

"It was CPS," he informed them once his phone was tucked away in his pocket. "They say things have been sorted out with your mom, and that we can drop you off at your place."

"They did?" Peter asked, incredulous.

"Yes. Ms. Reilly is resting in bed, so she won't be able to meet us," Bob informed Sarah. "But we have CPS green light to let him go back to her." He turned to Peter. "We can't let you walk alone, but I guess we can see you to your door."

Peter was dumbfounded. It had never been question to involve CPS into the escape plan. But he wasn't about to let his luck run out without taking advantage of it. He plastered on a huge smile and made a show of how excited he was. The Abbotts smiled affectionately, happy to see another of their children get a happy ending.

Behind the façade, Peter had no idea where things were going.

CPS had given Peter's address to the Abbotts. As they drove past building after building, Peter was dreading to see the final destination as one he knew and had no business being seen at. So when they parked in front of a complex unknown to him, Peter barely managed to hold back a sigh of relief.

Bob turned to him.

"Well Champ', this is your stop. Are you sure we can't come talk with your mom?"

"Uh, yes. If she couldn't come, she was probably resting in bed. She told me this morning she was still very tired. And if I know her, she probably won't want to be seen by strangers with a bed face," Peter lied too easily.

Bob sighed, disappointed. It would have reassured him to meet the person he was leaving the boy with.

"Don't worry honey, we understand," Sarah said to Peter. "Do you have everything?"

Peter lifted his carefully packed backpack for Sarah to see.

"I do!"

Peter opened the door.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," he said awkwardly. "Thank you, for everything. You helped me more than you know."

"You don't need to thank us," Sarah replied. "We were happy to be there for you."

"Son, you're very lucky to be able to get back to your mom. Too many children don't have that opportunity. Don't waste that chance and take good care of your family, will you?"

Peter looked at Bob. He didn't know what or why, but his words struck him.

"I will," was all he could say.

Peter got off and closed the door behind him. Aware that the Abbotts were still watching him, he walked nonchalantly to a random intercom and pressed the first name he saw.

"Yes?" a grumpy voice answered after a moment.

"Er... I forgot my keys," Peter tried for an excuse.

There was a mumbled "Damned kids" before the door buzzed. Peter entered the building and patiently hid in the corridor until he could hear the engine of the Abbotts' car drive away.

He then made his way to the rooftops and whipped out his phone as soon as he was sure he was alone.

"Karen, what was that? How did you manage to get CPS involved?" he asked, dropping down cross-legged on the rough floor.

"I didn't," she replied. "I overheard the conversation you had with Bob Abbott and decided to call again using a different voice in my database. I also falsified Benjamin Reilly's electronic CPS files to make it look like you got discharged from their service, in case anyone would want to take a look."

"Wow Karen," Peter breathed out, "that was some brilliant initiative on your part. You're the best AI!"

"Of course I am! I was designed by the great Tony Stark."

Peter laughed lightheartedly.

"Yeah, that's for sure, you certainly inherited his modesty." He shook his head, getting back to the subject. "But if not for you I would still be stuck back there so, thanks, 'Mom'."

"Should I memorize 'Mom' as a nickname I should answer to?" Karen inquired, reminding Peter with that automatized question that she was no real human being.

He chuckled a bit dejectedly.

"Oh no, Karen, please don't do that."

"Understood, Peter."

Peter looked up at the heavy clouds covering the sky, turning the bright sun of the morning into a distant memory. Contrary to what the Abbotts believed, Peter wouldn't sleep in a warm bed that night, and he still needed to find a shelter before he got caught in the rain.

END CHAPTER NOTES

And this closes what should initially have been the whole of chapter 3! Peter has finaly taken things into his own hands, where will that lead him?

Hi guys, long time no see! I'm very sorry for the long and unexpected wait between that chapter and the previous one. I got caught up in school work, this year being the most demanding of my whole stay in this school. However, the busiest and most difficult part is drawing to a close, so, technically, the next chapter shouldn't take nearly as long as this one did. I'm not making any promise though ^^' (only that I'm NOT giving up on the fic, no matter how long the chapters take to be written.)

Once more, I dedicate a huge thank you to my trusted advisor Note, and to my beta SanaTomb for her amazing work! Especially on Jarvis part, since I apparently can't speak high Jarvis ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!

Note and I opened a discord server! You can come chat with us about Spidey, about art, or pretty much anything you want! :D You might also get snippets of future chapters and deleted scenes!
You will also get to have a better idea of when the next chapters will come. You can't imagine how many times I wanted to apologize because this chapter was taking too long to come lol

Feel free to join us, we'd love to hear from you! :D /tKwrqkn