Chapter Text
It was as if all the sound in the world was gone. Deafened. And then it wasn’t. Noise exploding back into existence overwhelmed Peter, making him feel as if his world had come crashing down onto him. His mind was still processing what had been told to him.
It’s Saturday. Aunt May had worked a late shift, so he hadn’t seen her when he got home from a quick patrol. He did not expect to be woken up at 6:30 this morning by two police officers nocking at the door. Peter felt a sense of dread when he opened the door, as if he already knew what they were going to say.
This was when sound started to slip away from Peter. Only a few words slivered through.
Found this morning.
Gunshot wound.
-And then finally, the word that made his world deaf to the sounds and noises around him-
Dead.
The Parker luck finally caught up with his aunt, just as it did with his parents and his uncle. The thought struck Peter like lightning that came crashing down to earth. He was now 14 years old and alone in this world, with no family left, just him.
Peter doesn’t remember crying or being driven to the police station, but now he’s here, sitting in a stiffly stuffed chair, and his face feels wet. He’s staring down at the tiled floor. He’s still in the oversized t-shirt that he stole from Matt last month and a pair of sweatpants that he sometimes trains in. His feet are cold against the floor, but the sensation tethers him to the present.
Peter feels a hand against his shoulder, making him look up. It’s one of the officers that came this morning. Her lips are moving, telling him something.
Come on, Peter, focus.
“-you’ll have to stay with someone for the time being. Do you know anyone that could take you in?”
Peter is silent for a moment as he thinks, then the answer pops into his head. He nods. “There is someone…”
———
Matt did not expect a phone call this morning, especially not at around 8. He and Frank were still in bed, enjoying the lazy Saturday atmosphere. His phone's robotic voice then rang out, and he rolled over in bed, wiggling out from underneath the covers.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, as he picked up the phone. "Hello, this is Matt Murdock. How can I help you?"
The voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar, but there was something about it that made Matt's stomach drop. "Mr. Murdock, my name is Officer Johnson. I'm calling from the 118th Precinct in Queens. I'm afraid I have some...bad news."
Matt did not expect a phone call this morning, much less from a police station in Queens.
Matt's heart sank. He'd heard that tone in the voices of police officers before. It was the same tone they used when they had to tell someone that a loved one had been hurt or killed. It was the same tone that he heard the police officers use when they told him his dad was shot.
"Go on, officer," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "What is it?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Officer Johnson took a deep breath. "A woman, May Parker, was found dead this morning. Gunshot wound. Possibly mugging gone wrong. Her nephew, Peter Parker, says that you know him."
Matt's stomach dropped. He felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. He tried to say something, but the words didn’t come out. The officer continued, “He’ll need a place to stay, he said that we could call you.”
The officer continued speaking, something about it only being temporary until they could find a foster home for him. Matt's mind was racing as he only half-listened, but when the weight of the words 'foster care system' rang out through his head, he finally managed to speak, “We’ll be right over.”
“What was that about?” Frank asked, worry spreading over his features as Matt lowered the phone.
“Peter’s aunt, was found dead this morning.” Matt swallowed dryly. “He… he needs a place to stay until… until they can find a foster home for him.”
Frank didn’t say anything at first, he only sat up next to Matt and pulled him closer. Matt, in turn, leaned into the touch, relishing in their shared warmth. After a few minutes, Frank finally broke through the silence. “What do you want to do, Red?”
Matt tilted his head in question, which made Frank clarify, “About the kid.”
There was a pause, as if Matt was truly considering the question. He knew he had no right to ask this of Frank, but...he had to. He had to do this for Peter.
“I want to take him in, if only temporarily. I… I can’t just leave him when he… he asked that they call me.”
That seemed to be enough for Frank. “Alright then, let’s get dressed; we can take the van to the station.” Frank slid out of bed and started to pull on some jeans and an old t-shirt.
Matt sat there bewildered by this, his mouth hanging slightly open. Frank must have noticed he had not moved from the bed and quipped back at Matt, “Come on, Red. Get up so that we can go get your kid.”
This made Matt click his jaw shut and quickly move off the bed. He did not comment on the fact that Frank didn’t hesitate or question Matt or the fact that Frank had called Peter, Matt’s kid.
———
Peter was still sitting on the chair; he was hugging his legs to his chest and would every now and then tuck his head down, trying to keep down the tears that were threatening to spill out. He hated this. He hated how he felt so helpless. He wasn’t supposed to be helpless; he’s Spider-Man. He was supposed to help people who felt helpless. He just wanted to see May again, but he can’t.
It still felt unreal to think that he wouldn’t ever see her again; she won’t be there when he comes home from school or patrol; he will never be able to hug her or bundle up next to her and watch movies. He won’t be able to tell her all the things that he had wanted to; he won’t get the chance to ever tell her that he was Spiderman.
He won’t get to do any of these things because she was gone, dead, and he was still here. Alive, but alone.
———
It was probably just about 08:30 when they arrived at the station. It being mid-February and in New York, it was safe to say that it was positively freezing. Frank parked the van close to the entrance, got out with Matt, and walked up to the door.
The inside of the station was warm, but the cold seemed to seep in under the door and through the windows, making the air feel thick. There were a few people milling about, either talking amongst themselves or sitting at one of the many desks that dotted the room. They walked up to the reception desk and waited for someone to notice them.
The receptionist was a middle-aged woman with a kind face and warm brown eyes. She looked up from her paperwork when she noticed them and gave them a smile. "Can I help you gentlemen with something?"
“Yes, we were-” Matt was cut off when a familiar voice interrupted him.
“Matt?” came Peter’s broken voice. He was now standing there behind them, having gotten up from the chair he was in. Matt swung around, just in time for Peter to come barreling into him.
He clung tightly to Matt as if he would just disappear into thin air. This was when he started to let go of the tears he was holding back, letting them escape with broken sobs and shaky breaths. Matt, in turn, wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back comfortingly.
For this moment, Peter wasn’t alone; he had someone to tether him, to just hold him for a little while. He didn’t care that his feet were practically freezing. He didn’t care that they were standing in the middle of the police station lobby. He didn’t care about the people giving them strange looks. He was too tired to care about those things.