IT HAD SEEMED LIKE DAYS SINCE THE ACCIDENT THAT CHANGED THE DYMANIC OF THE GRAY FAMILY FOREVER. It seemed like the world was spinning, but not because of nausea, but because of vulnerability. Paxton had been sitting in a cushioned chair in the waiting room for five hours with nothing but anger flooding her mind. She had only hurt her shoulder, a sling protecting it from any further damage. Yet her sister was struggling to stay alive and hold onto the breath of life that her sister so desperately needed her to reach. It was Spider-Man's fault. What person saves the older sibling and watches with no attempt to do anything as the younger one gets slammed into by a car? He was no hero, not to Paxton.

Her father had been called instantly, him rushing to the hospital after hearing that something happened to his daughters. He had hoped it wasn't serious, that it was a minor cut on the forehead, or a broken wrist at the most. But when he arrived and saw Paxton crying into Troy's shoulder, he knew it wasn't something that could be fixed with a bandage or cast. And he couldn't comfort his daughter as she explained everything to her best friend that had rushed to her, he didn't have time to hold her shaking frame in his arms after she gave her report to the police. He had been hurried back to the nurse's station to clarify Carson's allergies and make sure she was getting the help she needed to even stay alive.

She had been rushed into surgery upon her arrival to the hospital. Paxton didn't even get to say 'goodbye' or shout an 'I love you,' for the girl had already been whisked away. Not that it would have made a difference, she was unconscious, not breathing, her hear had stopped. She was probably meeting The Creator by now and Paxton could do nothing but wail for the most special girl in the world to come back to her.

The clock ticked on, the minute hand reaching the one, then the two, then the three, and so on and so on. Paxton had long since stopped crying now. Instead she stared at the tile on the floor beneath her feet. She counted every red square, then white, then yellow. She continued to count until there was nothing more to count. She could hear Troy's voice talking, his mouth moving and his vocals increasing and decreasing depending on the words he was saying. He was trying to distract her from anything and everything. But it wasn't working because the girl continued to replay the exact moment she watched her little sister get hit with the car.

The clocked ticked on.

Seconds passed, minutes, another hour, and there was still no update. It had been six hours now and the two teenagers were alone in the waiting room, just trying to fill the void of time with their thoughts. Bryson was somewhere in the hospital, perhaps pacing the hallway where Carson would be roomed if she made it out alive. And once the clock ticked six hours and twenty-three minutes, two more people joined in the waiting room.

The clock read eleven fifty-six.

Paxton looked up from counting the one-hundred-and-seventy-four red tiles when hearing a new voice enter the waiting room. She saw a woman, someone who usually made things better when they seemed worse, who even though she made the worst walnut-date-loaf somehow made the most scrumptious cookies, someone who had been through hard times herself and yet made it her mission to help those in need first.

She saw Aunt May.

The woman smiled a smile that only someone going through complete devastation would know was only there for comfort. It was a smile that wasn't supposed to make everything seem okay like most did, but instead, one that tried to show understanding and compassion. It was only a smile that Aunt May had the power to do, an almost always succeeded in doing so.

However, it didn't earn accomplishment this time. Paxton only looked away and stared back at the floor to count the red tiles once more. She didn't pay the woman any mind as she sat to her side, then placing a comforting hand on Paxton's good shoulder. Even Troy knew that Paxton didn't need comfort, nor did she need understanding. She needed peace, she needed mediation. Her grandmother had created a motto that began in the Gray family but lasted elsewhere. It was a commandment that the family lived by, a moral code, if you will. But that moral code seemed to be fading into the Elsewhere that had been described in Paxton's favorite book The Giver.

And though it might have seemed random, contradicting and morbid even, May looked up at the ceiling and smiled, a huff leaving her mouth. In her soft, angelic voice, she whispered, "Negative thoughts are only a shadow wishing to be positive."

Troy had glanced over at the woman when the words left her mouth, his eyes even twinkled for a second. Grandmother Gray was right, she knew more than a simple statement could express. And now, sitting in what seemed like the darkest of times, Troy was reminded that it was only a shadow, a shadow that wanted to be positive. It was a metaphor to represent Carson as the shadow and that the positive she wanted to be was healed and alive, and no matter what little strength that six-year-old had, she was going to fight until she couldn't fight any longer.

Paxton had heard it, too, but she didn't dare look up because she knew tears would once again fall from her eyes if so and she didn't need to break down more than she already had. And thankfully, she didn't have the opportunity to do so since a moment after May had said what she did, someone else entered the room with a tray of five coffee's and one in hand.

He knew somehow, the way Paxton took her coffee, and Troy, too. He paid attention to detail, like Michelle, of the people around him. And he knew that every morning when standing at his locker, he would smell the strong scent of black coffee beside him, that was Paxton. And he always took notice of how Troy would put two packages of sugar and one tablespoon of creamer in his drink during coffee bar Friday's in algebra class. So walking forward, he smiled at the teenage boy and offered him the coffee with the name Troy sprawled across, then moving over to May as she graciously accepted her's.

Knowing Paxton wasn't in the mood, he placed her's in front of her and left Bryson's in the tray, then taking of sip of his own. Paxton still hadn't looked up, and he could only imagine how exhausted he was. She hadn't been able to rest since the accident, and after seeing something so awaking, he knew she wouldn't be sleeping any time soon.

Peter had rushed home as soon as the accident happened. He had been too ashamed to stand by, and when he got home, the news had already reached Aunt May.

She had been in panic mode, tears were running down her cheeks and pants left her mouth as she tried to contain the sobs. Uncle Ben had adored little Carson, and after he died, May had grown to see just how special the girl was and started to become the only 'mother' like figure in her life, though she preferred 'Aunt.' And with her emergency key Bryson had given her for nights he worked late and needed her to check on the girls, she entered their apartment and began to clean. She cleaned anything she could find. She made sure the dishes were done, wiped the dining room table spotless, vacuumed the family room, made the beds in the girls rooms, wiped the doorknobs, cleaned the entire bathroom, dusted the fans, and wiped every window in the apartment. She wanted the Gray's to be able to come home to a clean house no matter the news.

And that had taken her six hours, and after that she rushed to the hospital, dragging Peter behind her.

May thought there would be news by now, even a little sliver to update the family. But so far, nothing.

It was twelve o'clock now.

Paxton had sipped her coffee by now, even taken large sips. Peter had watched her carefully from the chair across from her. Concern was evident in his eyes, the girl hadn't blinked in thirteen minutes and she had a haunted look spreading across her face. However, when he glanced at Troy, the boy's head had dropped and his eyes were closed, a light snore escaping his mouth. Peter had no clue how that boy could possibly fall asleep at a time like that, but people have different ways to grieve or something like that.

The clocked ticked on.

Finally, after six hours and forty-five minutes, the doctor approached with a sullen look on his face. Paxton immediately looked up and twisted in her seat to nudge Troy. He awoke with wide eyes, frantically looking around as if he was just snapped into reality from dozing off in war.

Paxton stayed seated, not knowing if she would need to brace herself once getting the news, and Troy grabbed her right hand, seeing as though her left was buried in the sling. The doctor walked forward, stopping in front of her with a small smile now on his lips. "Ms. Gray?" he asked, earning a nod from the teenager. "I'm Doctor Colborne, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said, holding out his hand to shake, watching the girl unlace her fingers from Troy's and accepting his gesture. "So, I understand your sister and you were involved in a car accident, and after working for six hours, we've made progress," he explained, watching as relief overtook her face.

"Her heart's started to beat and she's breathing on her own, which is good, of course. But there is some bad news," he sighed. Paxton paled and gulped down the lump in her throat, "Oh no," she muttered under her breath. "When she was hit, your sister landed very hard on the ground, and as a girl so small, her spinal cord was still in the process of growing, especially closer to her tailbone," he began.

Hearing this, hundreds of things began to fill Paxton's mind and tears rushed down her cheeks as she gripped Troy's hand harder. "Your sister is paralyzed from the waist down," he said abruptly.

All at once, a sob left Paxton's mouth and she shook her head and clenched her eyes. She let go of Troy's hand and brought it over her eyes and leaned forward with her elbow on her knee. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, she didn't think they were telling the truth. Part of her felt like it was a cruel joke played against her, but reality knew that her sister would never walk again.

"Isn't there something else you can do, some sort of technology?" May wondered, placing a comforting hand on the girl's back. The doctor shook his head, "Tony Stark has been developing this kind of technology for years, and even if we as a hospital could get our hands on it, it would be to the highest value of the dollar. In order for her to ever walk again or use any function from the waist down, Carson would have to have an entire structure built bionically. There are temporary treatments, things such as automatic walkers, um, silts that connect the person's lower half to someone else so they can walk for them, and of course, surgeries. But in this case, Carson's entire spinal cord has been severed and walking isn't a possibility. Unless of course you personally know Tony Stark and can get him to sponsor you. Otherwise, I am very sorry," he apologized.

"Of course," May replied, looking down at her lap in disappointment that there was nothing that could be done for the girl. The doctor offered the group a small smile before walking away and left Paxton to be cradled in Troy's arms and rocked back and forth with soothing whispered leaving his mouth.

There was nothing that could be done for the girl, unless they personally knew Tony Stark.