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May had her fair share of mental health issues- your sister and her husband dying in a plane crash and then your own husband being shot by a mugger would do that to you- but this was so outside of the realm of what she could handle.
Peter, her baby boy, her nephew that she had looked after since he was only five years old, had Dissociative Identity Disorder.
Not only that, but he hid it from her for ten years.
To say that she was shocked would be an understatement.
The day of Peter’s diagnosis was confusing. May wanted to contribute so badly, but the doctor, Dr. Winner, told her that it was Peter’s time to talk. That made enough sense, she supposed, so she kept her mouth shut, and she listened.
With every word that came out of Peter’s mouth, May hated herself more and more. She nearly got up and left quite a number of times, but she forced herself to listen.
By the end of the conversation, after Dr. Winner referred him to a DID specialist and they got all the financial details hashed out, May was ready to collapse and sleep for an entire week.
Peter was unnaturally quiet on the walk back to the car, staring at the floor and blinking heavily. May wanted to demand answers- why hadn’t he told her about this before?! Was she a shitty aunt? Why did he hide this for so long?- but she didn’t. Instead, she asked, “Pete, honey? Everything okay?”
Her nephew nodded, but May knew him well enough to know that he was lying- although, with this new revelation, she wasn’t sure what she knew about him anymore.
“I think…” he paused. “Think Iron Man’s try-trying to come out or some-somethin’.”
“Iron Man?” she weakly questioned.
Peter nodded again, groaning, “Mmhmm.” He pressed his hands to his face, rubbing harshly, but continued walking out to the car with her.
They left the building and headed over to the car, where, true to his word, Tony was waiting for them. He opened the door for May and climbed into the passenger’s seat, letting Peter get himself situated in the back. By the time they were on the road, Peter still hadn’t snapped out of whatever daze he was in. The sight was familiar to May- she’d seen him look like this a number of times in the past, usually right after dinner, but she’d always assumed it was tiredness. Now, she was being forced to reconsider that it wasn’t something else.
Tony reached back and snapped in Peter’s face. “Hey, earth to Peter.” Peter flinched and looked up. “What’s up?”
“Oh, uh, sorry. Got lost in thought there.”
Lie.
Tony scoffed. “So, kid, your insanely hot aunt has informed me that you might have this Dissociated thingy? Disorder? Whatever it is. Apparently you don’t know me too well.”
Peter nodded. “I’ve only met you twice.”
May almost lost control of the vehicle right then and there. Twice?! Peter spent four days a week with Tony, had been for the last few months, and here he was saying that they’d only met twice?!
“So someone else’s been meeting me then. Who?”
Peter shrugged, then grimaced. How was Tony being so calm about this? Wasn’t he even a little bit concerned? If May were him, she’d be livid at him.
They met Alex, a twenty-something year old girl who lived inside Peter’s head. She told them about Iron Man and a few others. May’s head nearly imploded.
They were going to have a serious chat about this when they got home.
.
.
.
Peter was silent when they got back to the house. He tried to shuffle off to his room, but May grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him back. “Ah-ah, mister. You don’t get to hide out after today.”
“B-but Aunt May, I’m tired-”
“No buts. Sit.”
Peter begrudgingly sat on the couch, fidgeting with his hands. May sat down on the chair opposite of him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean.”
“I- I don’t.”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” May hissed, leaning forward. Peter hunched in on himself, and May couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction at his cowardice. “Why did this never come up before?”
“I- I didn’t know it was a problem.”
“You. Didn’t know. It was a problem.”
“I didn’t, I swear!” Peter cried, fists clenching in his lap. “I thought it was normal!”
“You thought it was- Peter, how on earth could you think that this was normal?!”
“I thought that hearing voices was normal! People always say you’ve got that little voice inside your head!”
“Voice, not voices!”
“How was I supposed to know the difference?!”
“Do not raise your voice at me like that, young man!”
Peter’s eyes filled up with angry tears.
“How the hell could you hide something like this from me?!”
“I just told you!”
“No, you told me you thought voices in your head were normal.”
“Exactly!”
“Peter, that tells me nothing!”
“My point is that I didn’t know anything was wrong!” Peter hunched over, gripping his pants even tighter. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think there was anything I could tell you!”
May’s eyes flared. “Go to your room.”
Peter’s head snapped up. “What?”
“I said, go to your room!”
“But May-”
“I don’t want to hear it!” May shouted, standing up and pointing in the direction of her nephew’s bedroom. “You can come out when you learn to talk to me like an adult.”
Peter huffed, face pinched up like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. “Fine,” he gritted out, standing quickly and stomping down the hall. He slammed his door, yelling in frustration.
May stood there, gritting her teeth, and yanked a pillow up from the chair. She hurled it at the wall and let out a choked scream.
May stood for a minute, collecting herself, and went over to pick up the pillow. She collapsed onto the couch, grumbling to herself, and switched on the TV to watch something mundane, switching through Netflix until she decided on whichever episode of The Office she and Peter were currently watching.
May grumbled for what felt like an hour (but was actually only twenty minutes), trying to convince herself that Peter was just a brat who only wanted to lie to her about things and make her life difficult, but after watching an entire episode, she felt her anger die down and her rational thought processes settle back in.
“Oh god, what did I do?” she whispered, horrified at herself. She muted the TV. “Peter genuinely didn’t know. Why did I scream at him like that?” She dragged a hand over her face. “God, I’m turning into my dad.”
May flip-flopped back and forth for a while- should she go to Peter’s room and apologize, or should she sit here and wait until this entire thing blew over? She was so deep in thought that she didn’t realize when Peter tiptoed back into the room, peeking shyly around the corner in the way he always did when he was nervous about something.
“Um, May?”
May looked up, heart dropping at the tear stains on her nephew’s face.
“I’m…” Peter fidgeted awkwardly, shifting his balance from one foot onto the other. He rubbed his arm. “I’m sorry for shouting earlier. I didn’t mean it.”
May’s features softened. “I know.” She scooted over and patted the empty space next to her. “Sit.”
Peter obliged, sitting hesitantly down onto the couch. May stared at the wall in front of her, beyond the TV. “I’m sorry too,” she eventually muttered, “you didn’t deserve to be shouted at, not after getting a huge bombshell like that today.”
Peter sniffled. “It’s okay, May,” he said, “I know you were probably just frustrated.”
“I was,” May admitted, “but still. You didn’t deserve that. I should- I should have listened to you.”
Peter dragged his bare feet against the carpet, humming slightly. May sighed.
“So, elephant in the room,” she addressed, “let’s talk about that, hm?”
Peter nodded. “Okay. Promise you won’t yell this time?”
May turned to look at her nephew, heart aching at the scared look on his face. “No, sweetie. I promise.”
“Okay. Um, what should we talk about?”
“How ‘bout we start with these ‘blackout’ episodes you’ve been having,” May suggested. “You said they’ve been going on for how long?”
“Can’t remember when I didn’t have ‘em.”
“Oh.” May paused. “That’s… a long time to be experiencing that.”
“Yeah,” Peter affirmed, “it’s… it’s not fun, but I…”
“Didn’t think it was weird?” May filled in.
“No,” Peter frowned, picking at the seams of the couch, “Well, I mean, yeah, but I think it was more that I thought it was just a me thing, y’know? Like… my parents always said everyone was built different. I took that too literally, I guess.”
May huffed softly, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes. “You don’t say.”
Peter hummed.
“Do you know… when they would happen? Is there a pattern that you picked up?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted, “after a while I figured out that certain things would make me black out.”
“What kinds of things?”
Peter shrugged. “Songs, movies, situations. Um…” he tapped his fingers against the couch in thought. “The Hamilton soundtrack is another big one.”
“And these just… happen?”
“Yeah.”
“And you don’t do anything to stop them?”
“I’ve tried,” Peter huffed, “but a lot of times it doesn’t work. As soon as I can feel it, it’s game over.”
May sighed. “So you can’t prevent them, then?”
“No.”
“Shoot.”
“I mean…” Peter paused. “My question is… if I actually have these… people, living inside my head… is it right to try and suppress them when they want to come out?”
May blinked at her nephew. “Never pegged you for the philosopher type.”
“I’m just worried that I’m being unfair to them,” Peter quickly explained. “I mean, we don’t even know for sure that’s what’s happening. But if it is… I don’t think I’d want to avoid blacking out.”
“Isn’t it inconvenient though?”
“I mean yeah, sometimes, but I think it gets me out of a lot of uncomfortable situations.” Her nephew turned to look up at her, and for a split second, May was reminded of those agonizingly-long two weeks after Mary and Richard’s deaths when all he’d do was stare hauntingly up at her with empty eyes, whimpering about when his mommy and daddy would be back to pick him up. Peter looked away, and the memory vanished. “It happens when Flash teases me, I know because Ned tells me after. I’m not against forgetting those moments.”
“And what about patrol?”
Peter cocked his head. “What do you mean, ‘patrol?’”
“Do you ever forget all of those horrible situations you get yourself into? Honey, I’ve seen you traumatized after rough nights. You come home and you, you just have this haunted look in your eyes. Then, in the morning, you’re back to normal.”
“I… May I genuinely have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
May stared at him, gaping in confusion. “Peter, um… please tell me that you know you’re Spiderman.”
“I’m- excuse me?”
Fuck, he didn’t know.
“You’re Spiderman,” she repeated, waiting for it to settle in.
Peter’s brain shut down and booted up again in a matter of five painfully-long seconds.
“You’re shitting me.”
“Language.”
“You’re crapping me.”
“Not better.”
“I thought that was some weird dream! I'm actually Spiderman?!”
“Shh! The neighbor’s are gonna hear, Peter.”
“I’m Spiderman?!” Peter hissed, deliberately quieter this time.
“Do you seriously not remember the trip to Germany?”
“I went to Germany?!”
“You went with Tony on a ‘field trip,’” May snorted, finger quoting the phrase, “you were gone for four days. I was worried sick, you know. I had to call you at two in the morning for you to even pick up.”
“I-” Peter dragged a hand down his face. “Holy shit, I would have loved to go to Germany. When did I go?!”
May elected to ignore her nephew’s use of colorful language and instead answered his question. “About six months ago, Peter.”
“And you didn’t bring it up because…?”
“I asked you all about the trip after you got back.”
“That makes sense,” Peter blinked, “it’s all making sense. I blacked out for like a week and a half around then, and when I woke up it felt like my circadian rhythm was all messed up.”
“Cicada who now?”
“Sleep-wake cycle,” Peter explained, raking a hand through his bangs. “God, I’m jealous now.”
“Yeah, well, judging by what went down in Germany, it’s probably for the best that you don’t remember.”
Peter cocked his head. “The only thing that happened in Germany was that Civil War thing,” he said confusedly, then realization seemed to set in. “I was there?!”
May rolled her eyes. “You were,” she affirmed. “However I only found out about your whole secret vigilante shebang after the Vulture.”
Peter’s brow furrowed and he stared at the floor. “The Vulture?”
“That’s what he called himself,” May explained. “It was all over the news: ‘Queens’ Resident Vigilante Spiderman Saves A Plane, Defeats ‘The Vulture.’’ Didn’t Ned tell you about that?”
“No,” Peter frowned. He rubbed his forehead.
“Yeah, it was this whole thing. A couple days later, I found you in your room, staring out the window, in full costume. I was pissed-” May paused. “Pete? You okay, honey?”
Peter’s frown deepened, eyes squinting like the lights bothered him. “Do you want me to get you anything?” she asked, trying not to let her franticness bleed into her voice.
Peter didn’t answer for what felt like ages, but then he slowly brought three fingers up in a ‘W’ shape and tapped them to his chin. May didn’t know much ASL, but she recognized the word- she took an optional foreign languages class a while back, when she first got her degree, to learn how to communicate basic needs with people of all different tongues. She thanked past-May for taking the course as she hurried off to the kitchen, retrieving a glass of water for her nephew.
“I got some water,” she said, settling back down on the couch. Peter blindly reached for the cup, sipping a little, then gripping it tightly. He blinked, glanced around the room, and sat up.
“Ah, sorry about that,” he shakily laughed, sipping from the glass again. “What were we just talking about?”
May’s brow furrowed, but she tried to ignore her growing concern. “The Vulture?”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Peter laughed nervously. He leaned over to set the glass onto a coaster on the coffee table.
“So, you really don’t remember Germany then, huh,” May sighed. “I’ll have a field day explaining that to Tony.”
“Whaddya mean?” Peter cocked his head, “of course I remember Germany.”
“You just said you don’t remember anything that happened,” May pointed out.
“May, I think I would remember going overseas with Mr. Stark,” he laughed.
“So you do remember being Spiderman?”
Peter scoffed. “Duh.”
“You’re not Peter,” May realized, her suspicions confirmed when Peter’s eyes widened.
“What are you talking about? Of course I’m Peter.”
“We were at the doctor’s today,” she continued, pointedly ignoring him, “she suspected DID. If she’s correct… you’re one of Peter’s personalities.”
“Personalities? I’m Peter.”
“Yeah?” she challenged, “what happened when we got back?”
“What kind of a question is that?” Peter scoffed, “I went to my room and hung out.”
“Oh? We didn’t, I don’t know, have a talk about something?”
Peter’s eyes widened, but he pulled himself together. “Oh, forgot about that. You know me, empty-headed. We talked about the appointment.”
“Any idea what happened in that conversation?”
“We… talked about the appointment?”
“That’s where you’re wrong, kiddo.”
Peter tensed up, sensing his defeat. He stared at the floor, wide-eyed, and blinked harshly. He sat up, collected himself, and said, “Sorry, I drew a total blank earlier. We had an argument.”
“And you just conveniently forgot about that?” May’s eyebrow raised up in suspicion.
“I didn’t forget about anything,” he huffed.
“Peter, I know that wasn’t you,” she accused, “this only confirms Dr. Winner’s suggestion.”
“What, that I have DID? May, you know that’s ridiculous.”
May’s brow furrowed. “You were all on-board with that idea earlier,” she pointed out, “what happened to that?”
Peter froze, then seemed to wage an inner war with himself inside his head. He paused, then sighed.
“You promise you’re not gonna freak out or anything?” he asked, a bit timid.
May nodded. “I promise. I’m not gonna blow up at you like I did earlier.”
Peter sighed. “You’re right, I’m… I’m not Peter.”
May’s eyes widened. “So Dr. Winner was telling the truth?”
“Yeah,” Peter- the person?- sighed. “My name is Keagan.”
“Keagan,” she repeated. “Are you a … friend of Alex?”
Pe- Keagan blinked up at her. “You’ve met Alex?”
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
Keagan crossed his hands over his chest, leaning back on the couch. “God, this is nerve-wracking,” he shakily sighed. “Um…”
“So you’re… one of Peter’s personalities?” May asked carefully.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a ‘personality,’” Keagan corrected, “I’m my own person.”
“So the doctor was wrong then?”
“No, she’s not wrong.” Keagan sighed. “I’ve been looking into our experiences for about a year now. DID absolutely describes us.”
May nodded. That made enough sense.
“So, you knew this whole time and didn’t tell me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No- I mean, sort of- it’s complicated.” Keagan took in a breath. “DID is a covert disorder- nobody’s supposed to know about it. We’ve had a… dynamic going on for a while. But that’s completely fucked up now.” His voice shifted to something akin to annoyance. “I wasn’t planning on telling you, but seeing as Alex screwed everything up, I guess I have no choice.”
May’s head spun.
“There’s a lot of shit you’re gonna learn, that is, if you choose to stay in our lives,” Keagan continued, picking at the lint on his sweatshirt, “I… I’m not exactly the most comfortable with this whole ‘being open’ thing, but if it helps us in the long run… I think I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“Language,” May admonished softly, trying to process the information she was just given.
Keagan let out a snort. “I’m not a minor, I can swear.”
“You’re not?”
“How old did you think I was?”
“I don’t know. Fifteen?”
“Fif-!” Keagan let out an even louder snort, followed by a round of laughter. “Man, my humor is broken,” he giggled, trying to compose himself.
“Well, I’m not gonna lie, this is… a lot to take in,” May changed the subject, noting how serious Keagan’s face got, “but I think as you- you as in ‘you guys-’ how many are there?”
“At the last count we had thirteen.”
“Thirteen, wow. That’s… a lot.”
“Luckily not all of them know about each other. It keeps the noise down, at the very least.”
“Mm. Anyways, I think as you get a diagnosis and go to therapy- ah-ah, don’t argue, you need therapy- I’ll probably understand more.”
Keagan grumbled, but nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “I hate the idea of therapy, but as long as I don’t have to front during appointments, I’m okay with it.”
“Mm.”
The two sat in silence for a while, letting the episode of The Office play, still on mute, in the background.
After a while, Keagan seemed to develop a headache, rubbing his temples and squinting. He shifted uncomfortably. May looked over and saw his discomfort. He caught her gaze. “Um, could you just- look away?” he asked, cheeks burning.
“Oh- sure,” she agreed, worry etched onto her features.
“Thanks.”
“Yep.”
It took a while, but Keagan eventually seemed to snap out of it. “May?” he asked quietly, looking around.
“You good if I look now, Keagan?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes on the TV.
“Keagan?”
May looked over at him. The teen blinked up at her. “Um, how long was I out?” he asked timidly.
“Peter?”
“Y-yeah, it’s me.”
May’s features softened. She leaned over and threw her arms around her nephew, petting one hand through his hair and rubbing up and down his back with the other. Peter hesitated, but returned the gesture in time.
“Um, what happened?”
“Oh, honey.”
“Somethin’ bad?”
“No, nothing bad,” she answered, pulling away. She kept her hands on his shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. “I met… a couple of your personalities, I think.”
“Oh.” Peter paused. “What were they like?”
“I didn’t get to talk much to the first one, but the second one was a bit snippy with me.”
“Really? I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Pete,” she sighed, pulling him into her side. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, rubbing his upper arm. “He was… it was interesting, to say the least.”
Peter was quiet. He tucked his head into her side, breathing in deeply, then letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” he whispered.
May stared for a minute, before her features softened again. “It’s okay,” she replied, “I get it. You didn’t know.”
Peter sniffled, wrapping his arms around her. “Still,” he said, “I should have told you.”
“Yeah, you should have,” she sighed, wincing when she felt Peter tense up, “but that’s in the past. No use being angry about something that’s already over.”
“I guess.” Peter paused. “Thanks, May.”
“Of course,” she replied.
“I larb you,” her nephew mumbled into her shoulder.
“I larb you too,” May whispered.
The Office played in the background, both aunt and nephew watching without really paying attention. May didn’t like how he kept things from her, but she could understand why he did it. And as long as he didn’t keep the important things from her in the future, she was willing to forgive him.
For now, all she wanted to do was hold her nephew.