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“Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.”
― Dr. Seuss
“So.” He’s standing in the corner of her kitchen, eyes locked on the ground, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, like he used to do as a kid and he’d snuck an extra cookie from the cookie jar. Only, this isn’t her five-year-old nephew. This is her almost middle aged, slightly chubby, definitely out of shape and overworked, emotionally depressed nephew from another dimension. A dimension where he’s clearly not with MJ—at least judging from the way he keeps staring at the framed wedding photo of the three of them hanging in her living room.
“So?” She tries to keep her face neutral, her tone calm. The truth is, she’s not really sure how to take all of this. She has a 1930’s detective, a cartoon pig and a Japanese tech wizard with a robot hanging out in her family room, binging on Hot Pockets. The whole thing is surreal, to say the least.
“This must be pretty weird for you,” Peter B. Parker, as he insists on having the B attached to his name, runs a hand through his bedhead, “I mean, with everything that’s happened.”
May feels her face fall. Her Peter—her beautiful, precious, wonderfully smart, somewhat snarky nephew is dead—yet, standing before her is a different version of him, a version that lived on. She hasn’t had much time to process losing her Peter and she’s glad that MJ is out, staying with her own parents. The last thing she needs is to see the ghost of her dead husband haunting her.
May can barely handle it herself. Part of her wants to hold Peter and never let go. Once he leaves—once they all leave—it will all be real. She won’t hear Peter’s voice anymore. She won’t get to give him sage advice. He’ll be nothing more than a tombstone that she’ll visit once a day and tidy.
“It’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened,” May admits softly. No, there have been some crazy days since she realized Peter was Spider-Man. This definitely ranked high on the list, but wasn’t the #1 spot, “But, you knew that, didn’t you?”
“Our dimensions are different.” Peter mumbles.
“But you told me about your powers, didn’t you?”
Peter takes a long time before nodding. He’s still in the corner, almost glued to it. May smirks at him and offers him a glass of coffee. “Still take it black with three sugars?”
“How can you stand to look at me?” He blurts out.
May sighs, “Shouldn’t I be saying the same thing to you?”
Peter’s eyes widen, “What? Why would—?”
“Gwen told me that I’m dead in your universe.”
And that was a weird thing to learn. But honestly, May had planned on dying before Peter. It’s the natural order of things. She’d planned on seeing MJ and Peter start a family together and spoiling her grandkids silly. But, things hadn’t turned out like that.
For any of them.
“Is that why you’re hiding in that corner?”
“I’m not hiding—” Peter pouts and May chuckles.
“Look, Peter B. Parker,” She tries to inject a little authority into her tone, tries to snap her nephew out of his funk, “I don’t know what may have happened in your dimension. But if your May is anything like me, you should damn well know that she loved you like hell. She would’ve done anything for you. So, you shouldn’t be carrying any guilt over her death.” May reaches out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I wouldn’t want that for you.”
Peter seems to relax at her touch, the tension slowly draining from his frame. He takes a small step away from the corner and takes the cup of coffee from her hand. They stand in silence for a few moments—her planning on what her next steps should be with multiple Spider-people in her house and him, drinking his coffee.
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers. At her raised eyebrow he adds, “For your loss.”
It’s an odd sentiment, especially when it’s coming from a different version of her nephew, but it still seems fitting somehow, “Thank you.”
More silence.
She knows that later—when the world isn’t in immediate danger of ending—she’ll fall apart. She’ll go up to Peter’s old room and sit on his bed and cry until she passes out. She’ll mourn him for the rest of her life and she’ll always feel like a part of her missing. If she didn’t have a crisis to fix, she’d probably have laid down and tried to die. Because without Peter, what does she have? An empty house full of bittersweet memories? Her whole life has been spent to raising this boy, to helping him become a great man and now, it’s over.
Her boy is dead.
And when the dimensions are fixed, she’ll lose this version of Peter too.
“So, you and MJ,” May clears her throat, trying to keep her tone calm, “I notice you’re not wearing your wedding ring.”
Peter flushes, grief flickering in his eyes, “Yeah, well, turns out that I wasn’t quite ready to be the kind of husband she needed.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it.”
“Aunt May, what—?”
“Peter B. Parker, I damn well know that your uncle and I raised you to be smarter than this,” She pretty much growls, leaning into him, “So, you tell me what the real problem is and we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“She wants kids.”
May smiles despite herself. She’d always thought Peter would be a wonderful father. He’d always had a knack with children, always going out of his way to impress them. Even with Miles, she can see that trait in this Peter. May beams, “And the problem is?”
“I can’t have kids. Not while I’m Spider-Man. I’d be putting them in constant—”
“So help me God if you finish that sentence with danger, I will hit you with this wooden spoon,” May threatens and Peter practically cowers before her, “What is it really about, Peter?”
Peter takes a deliberate sip of his coffee and she can see the wheels turning in his brain as he puzzles out what he wants to say. Quietly, he adds, “I can’t lose anyone else. I lost you. I lost Gwen. Harry’s gone. If I have a kid and I screw up and lose—”
“Peter,” She chides softly, “You would be an amazing father. And every parent—not just the super powered ones worry about losing their child. But, Peter, if anything, you’re more than capable to take of a child.” Sensing him about to interrupt, May plowed on, “Sure, you would have to be careful, but you and Mary Jane already know how to do that. And as much as you might not want to hear it, you won’t be Spider-Man forever. When you’re older, you’ll want a family of your own to cherish.” She places a hand over his, squeezing it gently, “I know I did.”
Peter huffs out a wet laugh and she’s surprised to see a few tears roll down his cheek, “You’re always right, Aunt May.”
“What can I say? It’s my super power.”
Only, she’s crying now too and they’re both standing in her kitchen, mere feet away from a room full of other people and they’re both crying. She’s not sure who initiates it, but before she knows it, she’s hugging her nephew and something breaks inside her. She didn’t to hug Peter before he left. She can’t even remember the last words she said to him.
She sobs and arms hold her tighter.
“It’s okay, Aunt May,” Peter B. whispers, “It’s gonna be okay.”
And she knows he’s right, that one day it will be. But for right now, she holds him tight and shuts her eyes and pretends that nothing in her life has changed. That Peter isn’t dead and gone forever. That this Peter B. isn’t desperately floundering without her support.
“I know,” She replies raggedly, laying her head against his shoulder, “I know, Peter.”
It’s not her Peter—not exactly anyways—but with her eyes closed, she can pretend. And for right now, that’s what she needs to get through this moment. When she gets everyone home, then she can collapse. But right now, she must be strong.
But if she lets the hug go on a little bit longer than he needs, he doesn’t say anything and when they break apart, they’re back to normal. It’s time to save the world.
Just another day in the Parker household.