AN: Dedicated to @BillWeed for the votes! :D Thank you. Peter's chapter is finally here! Let me know how it is. I'm pushing myself to write again.

The loud school bell rang, echoing inside of the classroom. The high school AP Biology students began to pack their stuff up, causing Peter to talk quickly, "Make sure to do your homework and be ready for tomorrow's lab. It's a big portion of your grade." Some students nodded, while others talked to their neighbors about their plans for the night.

Peter sighed as he set the piece of chalk down on the stand. He wiped his hands, and stared at the pile of scholarship papers he's disregarded for the passed week. The kids were eager to know how to improve, and a small tinge of regret formed in Peter's mind. He should've commented on them.

Too many things had been on his mind.

"Mr. Parker?" A voice caught Peter's attention. One of his students, Aisha, stood in front of his desk, waiting patiently for an answer. Her dark eyes watched him in curiosity, trying to decipher what rested in his mind. The light coming in from the windows shined on her dark complexion, making her glow. "May I have my paper back?"

He scratched the back of his neck, scrunching his face up in embarrassment. The students were supposed to come first. Their lives mattered. Their education mattered. Peter had put it aside for far too long. If he kept it any longer, he'd be letting the students down. That's not what he signed up for when he became a high school teacher. To be the light in the dark was an honor, but that was Spider-Man. Peter Parker had to live up to it in his own way, and the way to do that was be the teacher the kids could come to when they needed help at all times. So far, he'd failed. "I haven't gotten to it yet. I will hand it back tomorrow. Is that okay?"

Aisha frowned, and the light in her eyes disappeared. She looked down, nodding her head slowly. That only made Peter feel worse. He scrambled to follow up with a response, "I'm sorry it's taken this long. Things have been chaotic lately. I promise I will give it back tomorrow, full to the brim with comments and advice."

"Okay..."

Being a teen was rough. Looking back on it, Peter hated those moments where he felt his skills weren't enough. As if he weren't good enough for the world. Those times where the bullying got to his mind. Those times where applying for scholarships put so much anxiety on him. The same seemed to be happening with his student. "Look, Aisha. There's no need to worry. You're going to rock this paper."

She scoffed with a half smile, "You haven't even read it yet."

"I don't need to read it to know that. Your grades in this class prove it. The people giving out this scholarship would be stupid if they passed you up." With confidence, Peter held up his hand for a high five. "You got this."

Upon hearing those words, Aisha stood up straighter. The half smile flourished into a bright full one, and she gave her teacher a high five. "I got this. Thank you, Mr. Parker." Aisha tightened the strap of her backpack before heading out the door.

Peter exhaled, gleeful that he smoothed the situation over. Now? Now he was left with more work. Back to the grind...it never ended. He packed up his belongings and headed out the door for the community library near his apartment.

Some of the things in New York didn't change. Even if it had been two years since the bomb fell in Chicago, life went on. Citizens herded on the sidewalks, headed to work or a late lunch. The streets came to a full stop when the traffic became too much. Cars lined the lanes, nearly bumper-to-bumper. Vendors on the street, people looking for taxis, tourists taking pictures...sometimes it felt as if none of the horrid events ever happened.

Peter wished it had been that way all the time.

The past still seemed so vivid, and with Natasha's disappearance, it only made his stomach twist even worse. As he walked through the sea of people, he flexed his right hand. The urge to make another phone call spiked. It might've come across as annoying, leaving so many voicemails and all, but it was the least he could do. Showing concern was what good friends did. Maybe another call wouldn't hurt.

Giving into his urge, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. It rang..and rang...and rang, until the voicemail initialization popped up. When the beep occurred, he spoke, "Hey...Natasha." He thought for a moment, contemplating his next few words as he continued to walk down the street. "I've left you so many messages. Your inbox isn't full, so you must check them."

His brown eyes glanced around at the people around him to make sure he wouldn't slip up. The last thing he needed was to be giving out crucial information about his identity. He allowed the pain to pour out of his mouth, "You may not want to be back here, but we miss you. I miss you. Please come home. It's not good to be alone during times like this." He inhaled deeply, "I-"

The robotic voice popped up again. "End of message. If you would like to-"

Peter ended the call quickly, smashing his finger against the phone. He shoved it back into his pocket, frustrated that he couldn't allow himself to vent. It was even more frustrating that Natasha cleared her inbox, yet wouldn't return any of his calls. He didn't care if she contacted anyone else, as long as she contacted him so he could know she was all right. He let out a breath, his heart aching, "I don't want to be alone..."

Broken. Peter sulked in his broken state. It was that feeling of despair in the back of his mind, mumbling memories to himself. That feeling of helplessness as he fought so hard on those battlefields, but still ended up with so many casualties. That feeling of emptiness of being surrounded by friends and family, yet feeling so alone simultaneously, utterly decimated Peter's heart.

The other Avengers dealt with their own grief in different ways. Peter saw it. Bothering them with his own would only make things worse. Working out only numbed the pain with adrenaline. Talking to others was definitely a no-go. Finding a new hobby grew old too quick. So, he took the emotions and channeled them the only way he knew how.

Fighting crime.

Crime rates rose highly when the government fell. Think of The Purge actually coming true, and amplifying that by threefold because of criminals with powers. That's how Peter liked to describe it, anyway. Where there's crime, there's always a crime-stopper. Vigilantes didn't fit the name, and certainly since he helped save the entire world, he had hoped others wouldn't call any of the heroes that. All he wanted to do was save people.

That's exactly what he did during the nights with Deadpool and their new fellow organized crime stopper, Daredevil. Lilly had mentioned him before, and after looking him up, it seemed like the most perfect opportunity to form Team Red, as Deadpool put it so cleverly.

The life he had been thrown into, especially after the war, still affected him emotionally. Thoughts turned on him, decreasing the hope he had in the world. After the attack on the mutants, the state of the world he once knew decreased rapidly. Peter still held onto the hope that once the government became a strongpoint once more, events like that would end. Battling against the tide felt like the only right thing to do.

He fought for his own health. For the future of mankind. For his friends.

For Lilly.

A mental note formed in his mind to visit her later to see if she had gotten better.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted around the street, luring in customers every minute. When someone opened the door to the shop, the powerful smell of baked bread smacked Peter in the face. Chatter increased in volume as he entered the place. As far as he could tell, the place was packed. The hot air from the steam mixed with body heat from others. The place had been decorated in mostly wooden furniture, matching the mocha walls. Pictures hung up depicting fun times with friends or gorgeous scenery provided a good distraction for the customers waiting in line.

An excitement built up inside of him when his mind wandered to thoughts about the upcoming night just hours away. The adrenaline, the crime fighting, the view of the lit up city...it put a smile on Peter's exhausted face. The loss of sleep is worth it.

Peter headed out the door with his steaming cup of coffee, giddy for when he finished the commentary on the papers so he could get to the real fun stuff. Not even five feet from the door to the library, he accidentally bumped into someone. The coffee aimed to spill on them, but in a split second, turned back and hit him instead. Peter hissed at the heat and stretched his shirt away from his torso to prevent most of it from touching his skin.

A woman's voice quickly apologized, "Oh my gosh! I am so sorry."

"It's...it's okay. My fault." Peter's cheeks darkened in pink. Flustered, Peter looked down at his dirty white button down shirt. This stain will never come out. I wonder what cleaner Wade uses... He waved his coffee covered hand to get some of it off. Mild confusion took over his mind, warring with how flustered he felt. How could the coffee spill on me?

"Let me buy you another coffee."

Peter immediately shook his head. "No, you don't need to do that. I think this is a sign I've had too much today anyway." That's when he took a minute to look at who he was talking to.

The natural sunlight brightened her smooth tan skin. Her dark brown hair contrasted with her nubilous blue eyes as she stared up at Peter. Confusion and concern sprawled all over her expression. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Peter nodded, yet wasn't sure what else to say. It had been a while since he actually talked to someone other than his team, students, or coworkers. His body stiffened, feeling the anxiety as if he were in high school all over again.

The woman smiled sweetly, and slowly formed the sentence as she deepened her gaze. "How about dinner instead?"

Surprised, Peter's mouth dropped a bit, "Uhh..." He grinned like a fool and laughed for a short second. He almost spilled coffee on her, and she's asking him out? The world works in mysterious ways... Thinking back on it, it had been a while since he went out to dinner with a girl. Hell of a long while. Over two years, and his heart couldn't bare to think of why. "Can I at least know your name first?"

"Hallie Beckett." She held out her hand.

Almost returning the gesture with the wet coffee stained hand, Peter quickly switched hands and shook hers. A good wave of butterflies fluttered about in his stomach. "Peter Parker."

"Tomorrow good for you?" She kept her hand out, palm facing upwards. Peter peered at her in confusion, and right when he was about to ask why, she continued, "Your phone? So I can put my number in it."

A light turned on above his head. "Right." Peter handed her his phone, waiting in slight anticipation and nervousness. Was this girl serious? Did she really want to go on a date? Do I even own a good shirt for a date? "Tomorrow is good."

Hallie typed in her number, saved it, and handed it back to Peter. Her dark blue eyes widened for a second. "Oh, and you dropped this." She lifted his wallet to eye level.

Confused even more, Peter stared at it, the gears in his mind turning on end to figure out how it had fallen out of his pocket. He slowly grabbed it, bringing it to himself as he contemplated. "...Thanks..."

"See ya, Peter." With a wink, she turned on her heels and walked away.

What just happened...?

Peter shoved his wallet back into his pocket and trudged on through the doors of the library. The giddy butterflies fought against his pondering thoughts. Too many emotions clashed, causing him to rub his temples in annoyance. Stop. I got this.

He set his stuff down on an empty table surrounded by bookshelves and sunk down into the chair. Before the thought of Gwen Stacy could come across his mind, he shut down everything he felt and switched his brain into work mode. The music he put on through headphones clouded everything else, allowing his head to nod to the beat. With a pen, Peter got right to work on helping his students succeed.