Chapter Text
Peter had so many nightmares that started the same exact way as this one did. Third period English class, and a man in a suit came in and flashed some kind of a badge at the teacher, and Peter just knew he was there for him, but that just made it even worse, because beyond that, he didn’t know why. And the ‘why,’ could be one of a million little things that kept Peter awake at night. Most of those reasons all traced back to his extracurricular activity of webbing up badguys and leaving them on the curb for the cops to pick up like trash. For some odd reason, people didn’t like it when he did that, so it wasn’t too far out of left field for some police officer to figure it out and bring him in.
When the teacher and the stranger exchanged a few words, he had no doubt that they were discussing him, and he was proved right with the way she pointed him out with one long, boney finger. It was so much like his nightmares that he was convinced he would wake up and find out that he had dozed off during English class again.
“Are you Peter Parker?” The nicely dressed stranger said, flashing the badge and a smile at him, but Peter didn’t even bother reading the name on it.
He pinched his hand and frowned when he realized with a note of dread at the twinge of pain that directly followed.
He stole a quick glance at the teacher again, who hadn’t dismissed him from class, but also hadn’t stopped the stranger from addressing him. “Yes…?”
He really hoped this had nothing to do with Spider-Man. None of his senses were going off, and the man was looking down at him with this soft look that made Peter immediately on edge and annoyed.
“I have some rather grave news,” the man mumbled apologetically before putting the wallet back into his jacket pocket. “Perhaps this conversation would be best carried out in the hall?”
He doubted this man would be so kind to him if he knew what he got up to at night. Not about Spider-Man, then…
The pit of dread in his stomach continued to pool as Peter’s second anxiety reared its ugly head. “Is Aunt May alright?”
His voice was way louder than he meant it to be. The instant way all eyes were suddenly on him made his body tense. The telling way the… agent (?) suddenly frowned and avoided eye contact made Peter’s heart stop.
Somewhere at the back of the class he could feel the mocking gaze of Flash boring into his neck, and to his right and left he felt MJ’s pity and Ned’s worry. The Teacher at least had the decency to look away.
“Let’s… discuss this in the hall,” the agent tried again, desperately motioning to the door.
Peter knew it wasn’t rational what he did next, he knew he was making a scene, and that he would no doubt be talked about and gossiped over for ages, but he couldn’t stop the wave of terror that worked its way through his system. He knew this was what fight or flight felt like. He could already tell that he wasn’t going to run, despite how much smarter it would have been. He was scared. A cornered animal. He didn’t want to be alone with this man, because if he was… he didn’t know what would be said. He didn’t know if he could handle it.
He stood, an angry growl erupting from the back of his throat as his fist slammed the desk a bit too hard, making the fake marble plastic top crack when he forgot to reign in his powers all the way. The room went deathly silent as everyone observed Peter’s uncharacteristic outburst. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me she is okay!”
The man looked at him, pity heavy in his eyes. “I have a feeling you already know why I can’t do that.” He put his hand on Peter’s shoulder, trying to maneuver him away from the desk for some reason that Peter couldn’t completely understand. His whole body was shaking.
“I’m not leaving with you!” Peter reminded the man insolently, pulling back and slapping the man’s hand away from him. “Where is May!”
The man sighed, “There was an accident this morning. I am sorry to say she didn’t make it.”
All that anger fizzled out and died instantly, taking all of Peter’s strength with it. He slumped to the floor, a strangled cry escaping his lips. His head hit painfully on the corner of the desk, finally making him understand why the man wanted to get him out of the room filled with sharp corners and hard surfaces.
It was nothing compared to the stabbing pain in his heart.
Uncle Ben flashed before his eyes, bleeding out on the sidewalk. This was why he became Spider-Man, wasn’t it? To save people like he didn’t save Ben. He was selfish and irresponsible, and Ben died, so he became Spider-Man.
…but aunt May died anyway, apparently. According to this man.
Was he not doing enough? Was he being too selfish? Why did he go to school? Why did he spend so much time with Ned? If he wasn’t so focused on graduating and studying and getting good grades, maybe he could have stopped this! Maybe…
“…ter! Peter! Please! Your hyperventilating!” Ned was kneeling down next to him, holding him up and talking him through breaths. Everyone else had left the room except the man in the suit, who was kneeling next to him, and MJ, who was standing in the doorway.
Oh, God!
“What’s going to happen to me?” Was the only thing that escaped his lips, but the realization of the whole issue was much deeper than that.
With May gone, what was going to happen to Spider-Man? What reason did he have to dawn the mask anymore, without her to come home to? Her, and her terrible cooking. Her warm hugs. Her.
He should have seen it coming. Everybody left him. His parent. His aunt and uncle. Even Ned would leave him one day. He was bad luck. Parker luck. It ruined everything.
He needed to get as far away from everyone he loved so they didn’t die either. He needed to stop being so selfish.
“We were able to find your maternal uncle.” The man gently took Peter’s hand and lifted him up, plucking him from his best friend’s arms and onto unsteady feet.
This would probably be the last time Peter would ever see Ned again. He was going to a new home. Maybe even out of state. He still couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye.
Ned would be better off without him, anyway.
“It took a while to track him down,” the man said gently, leading him out of the classroom and past the crowds of students in the hall, “but he will meet us at the station. He is your last remaining blood relative and he has agreed to take you in for the time being, until more permanent arrangements can be made.”
Peter nodded. He didn’t even feel his feet move under him till they reached an official looking black car.
“I didn’t know my mom had a brother,” Peter finally voiced. Then again, there was a lot he didn’t know about his mother’s side of the family. His uncle use to tell him all about his father growing up, and even his aunt knew a few stories about the man before he met his wife and had Peter, but little was known about the woman. The lady she was before becoming part of their family was a mystery. In fact, Peter wasn’t even sure he knew his mom’s maiden name. It wasn’t something that ever really came up.
“What is his name?”
The man opened the passenger door and coaxed him inside, making sure to buckle him, which was a good idea on the man’s part. Peter didn’t really care if he lived or died on the way to the station, and his arms were like led.
Would they make him identify the body?
“His name is Jack Hammer,” the man supplied. Peter had a hard time not laughing at that hilariously stupid sounding name, then testing it with his mother’s name.
Mary Hammer.
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
What would he look like? Did he resemble the woman Peter had seen so many times in pictures, but he couldn’t remember her face by itself no matter how hard he tried? Would he have a hard time remembering Aunt May and Uncle Ben soon, too?
He really hoped the man wouldn’t mind that he would refuse to call him ‘Uncle Hammer.’ That just sounded… wrong.
Everything about this situation sounded wrong.
When would he wake up?