Ever since Tony died, Peter’s been different. He’s a former shell of himself. He’s been quiet and distant. He hasn’t been eating or acting remotely like himself. He’s kept to himself and doesn’t interact.

Losing the last family figure he’s had, (parents, Ben, May, and now Tony) he’s all alone now.

He hung up his suit, leaving a note in his neat cursive, “I can’t hold onto this anymore. It’s too much. Spidey.”

He went completely off the grid. Not even SHIELD can track him.

Now, he’s taking a walk in some alley in the freezing cold. The one thing that he hated about New York, it’s unbearably cold. He went into the Brooklyn, easier to blend in, harder to stand out. In the freezing snowy climate, he stumbles upon someone asking for help.

“Help! Someone, anyone! Please!” The desperate ten year old boy cries out on the street as he looks over at his bleeding uncle.

Peter mumbles, “Not now Parker.” He follows the pleads to a small lake. There’s a woman at the edge calling out to a small kid across the iced over lake. Thing is, the ice is about to split. Hero instincts kicking in, he races onto the ice, using his light weight as an advantage.

He addresses the frantic child, “Hey, it’s alright. I’m Peter. I’m going to get you back to your Mom alright?” The girl nods, tears streaming down her tiny face, “Alright.” Peter instructs, “Get on your belly, and I’m going to push you. Once your there, slither like a snake till you get to the shore alright?” The tiny child nods, getting into position, squeezing her eyes shut as she waits for the push. And it comes. The girl gets out safely. Just as Peter’s about to move, the ice gives away and he goes crashing in.

Peter feels himself enter the icy depths. He opens his mouth and water spills into his lungs. The lungs that won’t take in the necessary oxygen. He feels the water slowly drain at him and finds it easy to just close his eyes. But he has to keep fighting.

Darkness.

Peter’s six years old. His parents have to go on a special flight, one where he can’t go on. The three year old pouts as his parents who he vaguely remembers, hug and kiss him goodbye, for what would really be the very last time. Peter remembers watching the news where the reporter had a face of sorrow and sympathy. “Flight 362 with world renowned scientists Richard and Mary Parker were dead.” No. It couldn’t be. They promised that they would come back! They never broke their promise! He remembered sitting with his dear Aunt and Uncle, and storming to his “room” as he broke down in sobs. He was only six years old! It wasn’t fair! Call him selfish but if Peter could have kept them from going on that flight, he would have.

The ice black water swirls in his mouth, dragging him down deeper into the water. It’s getting harder to breathe but Peter is not going to give up. Not yet anyways.

Peter was ten years old. He was still coming to terms with the fact that his parents, were just never going to come back. But he had. It was just hard sometimes. The spider bite had given him some sort of power over loss.  Ben had proposed going to the arcade, a guy’s night. Peter lit up at the idea as any kid would and went along.

Everything was going great. Peter had won a stuffed duck. But disaster always had to strike. In the nearby alley, there was some fighting. Ben, being the police officer he was, took action. “I’ll be right back.” Peter pleaded with Ben not to go. Send someone else. They would work it out. Another lie. One guy with a gun shot Ben right through the heart. Peter screamed out for help, somebody, anybody. He remembered the people just walking by, not caring that a little kid was standing by a dead body. They just didn’t care.

After hours of pleading, someone finally helped Peter get Ben to the hospital. In the time that he was getting help, there was a chance that Ben could have been saved. Burning tears raced down Peter’s face. If those people hadn’t been so damn ignorant, his Uncle could have lived. He wouldn’t have to have another loss. But no, since when was the world kind to the Parkers?

Peter was sitting on a white plastic chair watching all of this unfold. He had a death grip on his stuffed duck. If he could go back in time, he would have never went to the arcade. He remembered May rushing in to the hospital, a horrified expression taking over her. She then looked at Peter. She only hugged him. Neither Parker spoke on the way home. The only sound was Peter’s sniffles.

He blamed himself so much. He could have done something! Anything! The people didn’t have to just stand there! He had such a burning hatred in his heart.  If only there was someone who was always there, lurking in the corners, to protect people. Then he recalled something May had told him, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” If no one was going to step up to the plate, then he would have to. For Ben. Hence, the Spiderman.

By now, Peter was close to just giving up.

Meanwhile, at the Avengers Tower which had a darker, blund appearance. FRIDAY had reported with fear in her voice, “I have picked up traces of Peter Parker.” Steve exhaled, “Where?” FRIDAY reported with a hint of sadness, “In the lake by the upper east side on Brooklyn.” The Avengers wasted no time getting to Spiderman.

Tears slipped down Peter’s face. He was going to die here, all alone.

One night he came home and found May’s body draped in blood. Her own blood. His last living relative was dead. He had dialed Tony, the one person who he thought could help him. They had such a good relationship already. Tony asked, “Hey kid, what’s up?” Peter had spoke as he was about to cry, “Mister Stark, please come now. It’s bad, it’s really bad.” Tony sensed the urgency, and the fear in his voice, “Alright I’ll be there in five.”  

Tony was also a man of his word, getting there in exactly five minutes. He looked in the room and saw May dead. He turned to the right and saw Peter slumped to his knees, looking so broken. The kid was hunched over in the farthest corner, rocking himself. He looked so pale, and so, so broken. His eyes were downcast, tears pooling in, but only a fraction of the water spilled. Tony covered May with a blanket. He gently walked over to Peter, coming out of his suit. Peter didn’t need Iron Mam, Peter needed Tony Stark. Tony gently took the crying boy in his arms, holding him, rocking him. Peter pleaded against Tony’s shoulder, “Mister Stark, please don’t leave me.” Tony nodded, “I won’t leave you. Ever okay?”

Another lie.

Tony promised he would never leave him. But he was gone.

Tony was gone and Peter couldn’t live like this anymore. He just wanted to die.

But the world still needed him.

Calloused hands made contact with Peter’s body and slowly dragged him up towards the surface. Whoever was holding him was a pretty good swimmer. His holder gently deposited him on the shore and soon enough was giving him CPR. Peter began to cough and spurt out water. A gentle and compassionate voice spoke, “There, there, you’re alright.” Peter tried to ask who but ended up choking on his words. Another voice, that was female gently turned him over and put his head on her lap coaxing him to cough out all the water.

Once all the water was out of his lungs, Peter groggily looked at the people who had saved him. Captain America and the Black Widow. How did they find him? Not too far was Hawkeye and the Scarlet Witch. Peter looked around confused. Natasha took his hand gently and spoke, “It’s alright, you’re safe now.” Black dots spurred his vision and the next thing Peter knew, he entered a realm of darkness.

When he woke, he was covered in warm covers and a group of Avengers were huddled around him. He tried to sit up but couldn’t support himself. He asked confused, “What, what happened?” Wait, he wasn’t wearing these clothes before. Natasha smiled to see the boy alive and well, “We found you drowning in a lake.” Peter froze, “Was the kid okay?”

The Avengers looked at Peter with pride. The kid goes off the grid for two years, drowns in a lake and asks if the kid he was trying to save was okay first. God bless his soul. (God bless ‘murica.)

Clint nods his head, “Yeah, she’s alright. And more importantly, you’re safe too.” Steve lightly smiles, “Welcome home kid.”

Safe, and home. It makes Peter smile. He’s got another family. A super one.

A/N: Which one of my works is your favorite? I also decided to write something small on ao3 (archive of our own). My username is ScarletPotter and the fic title is Fake Smiles (Burning Hearts). It's about Wanda Maximoff's character. I love how Marvel wrote her, but there isn't a lot of depth in her. Where is the part where she's coping with the loss of Pietro? The Raft? Infinity war? It would be nice if you guys could check it out!