Chapter Text
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Peter Parker, Spider-Man, felt numb as he watched the heart rate monitor create spikes that resembled life. His dear aunt May lay limp on the hospital bed, breathing shallow and barely holding onto life. Even with her burn marks and wounds covered up with bandages and a hospital gown, she looked so incredibly pale and fragile; he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt explode in his chest and had to look away.
It was after all his fault that she was like this.
He had been way too eager to head out for a patrol that evening. Had he not gone and instead just done his homework and helped aunt May with the groceries like he was supposed to, he could have made sure that she would be okay.
But she wasn’t.
It wasn’t enough that he had swung through a shattered window and got her the hell out of that burning building. Hell, even that had been a struggle: the moment he had gotten into the mayhem in the apartment, every entrance had sealed shut and he had to physically fight his way out while battling the smoke that was building up in his lungs, not to forget the flames that were literally everywhere he looked. With much needed help from Karen, he had managed to create an opening that lasted long enough for them to get out. So without wasting any more time, he had swung out of the collapsing building with a passed out May.
Peter knew that he had perhaps saved her life, but she wouldn’t even be in the hospital if he had just stayed home. He should’ve been there to protect her. This was on him, and he knew it.
Tears welled up in his eyes that were already rimmed with red from endless crying. He was still in his dusty red and blue vigilante suit because there was no way he was leaving his last family member’s side. He sniffled and exhaled a shaky breath, his blurry gaze drifting across the small, typical hospital room. In the corner were two chairs, Peter sitting in one of them. There were flowers, beautiful paintings and a television set hanging from the far left wall. In the center of the room was a hospital bed where aunt May lay fast asleep. Peter and her were alone in the room, and had been so for about an hour now. Unlike the rest of the building, it was quiet in here and thankfully it smelled more of flowers than the stagnant smell that filled the rest of the hospital. The smell of detergents and cleaning sprays were almost too much for his enhanced senses.
Suddenly the heart rate monitor speeded up and immediately Peter knew something was happening. In less than a second he was standing by her bedside. As her eyelids slowly fluttered open to reveal her watery eyes, his gaze blurred up once more, and he was glad she couldn’t see the look on his face.
“Hey,” Peter said, trying to sound like Spider-Man and not her nephew. He cleared his throat and assured her, “You’re gonna be alright, ma’am.”
After realizing he was here with her she seemed to be calming down a little, the beeps from the monitor by her side becoming slower and slower.
Aunt May looked at him for a second. Her eyes were dark and showed how much pain she was battling. She mumbled something, but even with his enhanced hearing he couldn’t make out what she was saying. She spoke again, this time a little louder and clearer.
“Take off your mask, Peter.”
Those words were some Peter never could imagine May would say. His lips parted and his eyes were almost as still as some on a billboard poster. He was sure even the mask couldn’t hide the shock that registered on his face.
She knew?
“How…How’d you know?” He asked and pulled off the mask with one hand, revealing his face wet and red from crying. His brown hair was a total mess but it didn’t bother him.
“I’ve known for some time now,” she responded.
Peter swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. “I never wanted you to worry.”
“I did,” she said. Peter watched as her shaky hand latched over his. “Many times.”
Peter refused to meet her gaze and looked down at the floor like a guilty puppy. “May, I’m sorry. I should have told you.“
“Peter, it’s okay,” she whispered, her voice raspy and sore. She gave him a soft but broken smile. “You have saved so many people. You have saved me. I’m proud of you— Ben would be too.”
To that Peter returned the smile. The reason as to why he never told her was so she wouldn’t be put in danger, but also because she might not let him do this anymore or react badly to it. Turns out she wasn’t as negative about it as he had expected.
He gently squeezed her hand. “May, I should have been there. I could have-“ but Peter was cut off by happened next, something he never could predict would happen, not after she had just woken up. Suddenly she seized up, arched straight from the bed and locked rigid, breath vanishing, and then too long later coming back in a rush with short pants of oxygen. Never before had she frightened him so much.
What was happening?
He didn’t hesitate and slammed the palm of his hand into the button by her bedside and called for help, quickly putting his mask back on.
“Nurse?” he yelled. “NURSE!”
Just as the heart rate monitor went flatline, the door quickly flew open and in entered a team of four- five medical staffs.
“She’s going into cardiac arrest,” one of them spoke.
Wait, she was what?
He watched the nurses and doctors circle around his aunt with his head swimming unhelpfully and his mouth uncharacteristically dry. His limbs felt like his muscles had been taken out and replaced with over-stretched elastic bands. He had to lean against the wall to support himself.
She’s going to be alright, he assured himself.
She’ll be okay.
In a second she’ll be awake again, as if this never happened.
She’s fine.
However much he tried to convince himself, deep down he knew she might not recover from this.
And he could only stand and helplessly watch her disappear from his life.
“Let’s get the defibrillator out. Charge to 200.”
“Ready.”
A medic quickly handed one of the doctors the defibrillator and suddenly it was starting up.
“Clear.”
The doctor performing CPR on Peter’s aunt stepped back, the defibrillator humming increasingly loudly and quickly it was pressed onto the plates of aunt May’s chest. It scared Peter how her body jerked violently and he looked instead towards the heart monitor for any hope, but nothing happened.
He could feel his palms getting sweaty and eyes stir, desperately holding onto the tears. For a moment he felt like he was suffocating; his heart was trying to tear itself out of his chest and his senses became incredibly conflicted. He could hear the medics speak, but their voices became echoes in his head and he could barely make out what they were saying anymore. Was he panicking? Definitely.
Suddenly someone was by his side and said something about the words “breathe” and “it’s okay”.
But it wasn’t okay. The world was ending around him. Aunt May was dying. Oh, fuck. Suddenly it was like the reality of the situation just dawned upon him. Aunt May was dying, she was dying and she was going to leave him all alone in this gruesome world...
“Charge to 300,” one of the doctors said, and the process was repeated but once again nothing happened.
Come on, he prayed. This was a nightmare. Every second that passed in this room was a nightmare. He still prayed that this was just some nightmare and he would wake up any second now, but the scene kept playing before him and he was stuck here, and could only watch as the doctors desperately tried to bring life back into his poor aunt.
“Shock again at 360.”
After repeating it once again for the third time, the the three medics stopped and exchanged a look. The defibrillator was about to be put away, but Peter spoke up.
“Why are you stopping?” he demanded, trying to sound like he didn’t know this woman and was just here for support, but it was visible he was panicking and he knew immediately he had to drop the facade. He swallowed hard and moved towards them, but the room was spinning and he could barely walk straight.
“Why are you stopping?!” Peter repeated, this time much louder.
A female Latina doctor, one of the doctors he had seen earlier today assisting aunt May, looked at him before locking gazes with one of her coworkers. Her eyes were filled with emotion and such pity for him.
“Push 100 of lidocaine and charge to 360 again.”
Peter felt a small wave of relief wash over him. He backed off a little and let them work, watching as CPR was continuing and lidocaine was quickly inserted into her IV.
“Clear.” With that, the doctors surrounding aunt May moved back for the fourth time and the defibrillator was placed on her chest. Her body jerked violently but nothing happened. At that, everyone seemed to be stopping for good.
After a couple of seconds, a taller male doctor sighed and spoke four words that made Peter’s heart drop.
“Time of death… 22:16.”
“What?” Peter pushed them aside so he could see aunt May properly. Suddenly she looked so lifeless, Her chest was so still he had to bite his lips so he wouldn’t yell. “No,” he continued, his voice hoarse. “We can’t give up!”
This wasn’t happening.
She was not dying. This couldn’t be real. He didn’t want this to be real. Anything other than this was fine. Anything. He just wanted something else to happen.
His hands trembled as he laced his fingers together, sat the heel of his lower hand in the the center of her chest and pressed down, silently begging her to wake up. One, two, three four. Up and down.
“Spider-Man, she’s gone,” one of the doctors that still remained in the room said. Peter just shook his head. No, she’s still got a chance. She had to. He couldn’t help himself and prayed again, prayed that he at least remembered how to do this right. He continued to count and hit thirty, although he couldn’t even remember hitting twenty. Fuck, he could barely even think straight.
Ten minutes passed. Peter was exhausted but didn’t dare to stop, exhaling a breath at each pump.
“Son...”
Another ten minutes went by, but nothing was happening. One, two, three four. Come on, he told himself. He had to keep going. There was no way he was giving up. She could still be saved. He didn’t want her to leave him.
“Spider-Man, it’s too late. You have to stop.”
No, he was not stopping. Aunt May was all he had left. She never gave up on him, so why should he give up on her? After everything they’d been through, this was how it ended?
“No, you’re wrong!” He shook his head. “She was awake a minute ago!”
He felt a hand land on his shoulder. “Son, there’s nothing you can do.”
That’s when Peter stopped pumping.
He stood still and the two other people in the room was quiet for a moment.
There was nothing he could do.
She was dead because of him.
This was his fault.
“Can you, uh,” he broke the silence and swallowed hard. He let out a shaky breath and dared not to look anywhere else but at May’s completely still chest, still hoping for a miracle.
“Can you give me a minute?”
Thankfully the nurse and doctor agreed to give him the space he needed and quickly left the room and closed the door. Peter remained still for a moment and looked at aunt May’s peaceful expression on her face. She was gone. She was really gone. And he could have prevented it.
But now there was nothing he could do.
He pulled off his mask for the second time. His eyes were red from crying and he was as pale as a sheet. Not feeling like his legs could hold his weight anymore, he dropped to his knees and suddenly all the emotions that had built up inside of him escaped. He sobbed over the still corpse of his aunt May, his stomach wrenching from each cry. The long beep from the heart rate monitor was the only sound filling the room except for his sobs. From each cry he felt the hole in his chest just growing bigger and bigger.
He had lost everybody. His entire family. His mother, his father, his uncle, and now his aunt. He was the last of the Parkers, and he was only seventeen. His life had just begun. Aunt May had always been there for Peter, she had been more of a mother to him than Mary Fitzpatrick-Parker had ever been. Even when Uncle Ben was shot, there had been a certain comfort in knowing that Aunt May would always stick around, that she was just too stubborn to die, or so it seemed. Now she would never get to see the grand-nieces and nephews she’d always wished for, or see him marry the love of his life. She would never see him prove successful at a career in science. Never again would she create another batch of wheatcakes that would be shared between the two of them. Now she was gone forever.
“May, look at me. Wake up. I can’t do this without you,” he whispered. He didn’t expect a reply, but how she just stayed completely still didn’t make the situation easier— it was a constant reminder that he would never get to hear her voice again, or see her smile, or give her a goddamn hug.
This was his reality. This was really happening.
Spider-Man had saved countless lives across the globes for the past years. He was one of Earth’s Avengers, and now he was staring at the lifeless body of his aunt just in front of him, his aunt whom he couldn’t save.
He bit his lips, a tear rolling down his left cheek. “May, please.” Another sob broke its way through his throat. “No, no, no. May, look at me. May,” he sniffled. “Please... I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”
One last prayer, one last hope. He adjusted to the grip around her hand and whispered something he wish he could have said while she was still alive. “I love you.” He began to sob frantically. “I love you. I love you so much. I-I’m sorry.”
He inhaled sharply and rested his head on her lap. “I’m so sorry.”
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
Peter stayed with aunt May for the rest of the evening. It was first when the clock on the wall showed 12:01 a.m. he decided to stand up from his position by aunt May’s bedside and leave the building to get some fresh air, but he didn’t get far as the door suddenly slowly opened and he jerked his head up to see who it was. He was ready to turn around and put his mask on just in case it was someone outside of his comfort zone. But in walked Tony Stark himself, dressed in one of his most formal attires. As their gazes locked, the genius billionaire pulled off his yellow-tinted sunglasses and his eyes softened, and Peter relaxed a little.
“Pete,” he breathed, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him.
“What are—“ Peter cut himself of as he realized how incredibly raspy his voice sounded. “Wh-“ he kept trying to form the words, but his body was protesting with sudden sobs and uneven breaths. He was breaking down again. What are you doing here? Peter wanted to ask, but it wasn’t working. A tear rolled down his cheek and he began to sob uncontrollably again. He refused to meet Tony’s gaze out of embarrassment and instead looked down at the floor. He hated to be seen like this. Hell, he was an Avenger! And now he was crying in front of his childhood idol.
Peter knew that Tony was still looking at him. Judging him, perhaps. He wouldn’t be surprised, he probably looked really stupid crying like this. But he couldn’t control it and he just couldn’t seem to stop.
Peter brought a hand up to his face and sniffled. “She,” he sobbed. “May—“
“I know, kid.”
His bottom lip began to quiver when he looked up at Tony. “I’m alone.”
Tony stepped forward and wrapped an arm around the weeping teenager’s shoulders and pulled him close, gently rubbing his back with the other hand. His very touch seemed to lighten the heaviness in his Peter’s stomach and the world around him melted as he squeezed back, not wanting the hug to ever end. His shoulders hunched and he let out loud, heaving sobs that tore from his throat.
After a couple of minutes when Tony pulled back and studied Peter with his gaze while his hands rested on his arms, Peter had calmed down considerably and his breathing was returning to normal. He felt like all his emotions had been drained from him so he could only glance back at the older man with tear-streaked cheeks as he gave him a broken smile that probably was meant to reassure him he was going to be alright. But it didn’t, not the slightest. Now that aunt May was gone, what was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go? Peter suddenly felt like he was on the verge of panicking again. Had it not been for the weight of a hand he suddenly felt on his shoulder and the man’s soft voice, he might have stumbled backwards and crashed against the wall.
“Pete, I saw what happened on the news. You were there.” Peter nodded, and Tony continued. “Are you okay— are you hurt or something?”
Peter could feel Tony’s gaze searching him for wounds, but he had none. Except for the smoke he could still feel in his lungs and the fact that he looked like he had cleaned a chimney, he was alright. Physically, that was.
There was a moment of silence before Peter spoke, his gaze glued to the floor.
“Why didn’t you come?” His words came out equally as surprising for both of them. It seemed to Peter it was only his mind alone speaking at this point.
“I came as soon as I could. I had to leave a meeting in Beijing when I heard—“ Tony cut himself off. “Point is, I’m here now. I’m not leaving.”
Peter’s feet seemed as tied to the ground like roots, his gaze too. All he wanted to do was flee the scene. He didn’t need pity from a busy celebrity like Tony Stark. Despite having taken him under his wings for the past two years, the man clearly had so many other important things to do, like the meeting. He felt guilty enough about aunt May— he didn’t need anything more. What he needed was for aunt May to be alive.
“Hey. Look at me, kid.”
Tony’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. Peter glared up at him with bloodshot eyes.
“I’m here. You are not alone.”
Only those words were enough to send him to the edge of starting to sob again, he could feel his eyes already welling up. Peter swallowed hard.
“Where am I supposed to go, then? I can’t go back. I... I can’t.”
Tony patted his back comfortingly and gave him a small smile.
“We’ll figure it out.”