You have fifty-six missed calls from Mr Stark.

Peter ignored Karen, continuing to lean against the brick wall. He hadn't been to school in over a week, and hasn't eaten in that time either.

He had been at school, when he had received the dreaded call - the one telling him that his Aunt May had been taken off of life support.

But he didn't want to back to the apartment, he was going to endanger another family by living with them. He was a curse: everyone he loved always seemed to die in the end, his Mom, his Dad, Ben, and now May.

Mr Stark is calling again, would you like me to answer it?

"No, just shut up Karen," mumbled Peter, his voice rough due to the lack of water in his diet.

He is overwriting my programming, incoming call from Mr Stark.

"Kid, you better have a decent excuse for ignoring my calls," Tony stated, his voice sounding firmer than usual, "And it better not be homework."

Peter gulped, "I just, I just can't," he exclaimed - cutting the call.

Tony picked up his phone, and clicked onto Peter's tracker. He was still in Queens, good, but he appeared to be in an alleyway.

Peter sat there, wondering how long it would be before he would die: before it was all over. Then he could be with the people he loved, the people he cared about.

"Kid, I think we need to talk."

Peter turned his head in the direction the voice was coming from, and saw the recognisable, red and yellow suit. However before he could reply, his vision blurred and everything went dark.

Peter lifted his head, realising he was in some sort of medical room.

"Take it easy, kid."

Mr Stark. Oh no, Peter thought, he was at the Avengers Tower. He rested his head back on the pillow, forcing himself to look up at the older man.

"So, are you going to tell me why you were out on the street - practically waiting to die."

Peter could sense the anger in his mentor's voice - but there was something else in there too. Pity? Sadness? Relief?

"Kid, I find out that Child Protection is looking for you, and that you've not been at school in a week. Even the news knows something's up, there's been no Spider-Man rescues in quite a few days. And then I see you out there alone in an alleyway."

Tony looked at the pale, defenceless, child laying on the bed before him.

"Underoos, I'm worried about you. Tell me what happened."

Peter's eyes started to sting, and as he spoke - all the words same out at once, "May, she... she's gone. And she's never coming back. And it's all my fault. Just like with Ben. Just like with my Mom and Dad. I'm not a hero anymore, I'm a killer."

"It wasn't your fault, Pete."

"Yes it was," Peter snapped, his heart racing, as he tried to steady his breathing, "It's always my fault."

Tony sat down next to him, how could so much pain be pushed onto to such a young kid? Peter leant against him, tears now streaming down his face.

"Kid, there are some things we can't prevent. Death is one of them."

"But I'm a superhero, I stop countless people from dying, but I can't even save my own Aunt. I'm pathetic."

"Peter..."

"Just go away, alright."

Tony stood up, and left the room, leaving the boy to sink his head into a pillow and cry.

Peter opened his eyes: his head throbbed, his eyes were red, and his stomach was aching. When would all this torture end, he wondered.

He could see a man, wearing a white lab coat, entering the room.

"Hi, I'm Bruce..."

"Banner, I know."

Bruce looked slightly impressed, clearly under the impression that Peter only knew him for 'the Other Guy'.

"You're an exceptional scientist, you're studies are phenomenal," Peter continued.

"You like science?"

"I love it," Peter stopped talking, his chest burning.

Bruce could see the look of agony on his face, "I'll just get you something, to help with the pain."

"I'm fine," Peter replied, gritting his teeth, "I don't even need to be in here."

Bruce smiled, "Boss's orders, Tony wants you to get as much rest as possible."

Peter laid his head back down, he did still feel rather tired.

"Okay, okay. But tell him that tomorrow I'm out of here. His orders or not."

Bruce grinned - knowing how he felt, "I'll pass the message on."

Peter watched as Mr Stark walked into his room. Actually it was more of a stroll, a weird, strange, Tony stroll.

"Mr Stark, I'm ready to go. I'm fine, honest."

"And where exactly would you be going? The apartment's been sold, Child Protection are looking for you: where were you planning to go?"

"I don't know. Somewhere."

Tony rolled his eyes at the kid, "You're staying with me, until we can sort this out."

Peter opened his mouth, ready to protest.

"Nu-uh, this is final. You're staying here at the Tower, until I say so."

"Yes, Mr Stark."

"And after this long, don't you think you could call me Tony?"

Peter nodded his head, smiling towards at older man, "Maybe."

Tony left Peter to do whatever Peter does, and picked up his phone. He had to sort out a permanent arrangement for the boy. And he knew exactly what to do.

"Hello, this is Tony Stark. Yes, that's me. I'd like to talk about Peter Parker. Yes. Yes. No, we're not related. Yes. Uh-huh. Yep. He's here with me now. Now I don't want anyone to come over. Is that everything? Great. Bye."

He had done it, he had finally become a father. Now all he had to do was tell Peter.

Tony slid open the glass door, a grin painted across his face. Peter sat upright, smiling when he saw who had entered the room.

"Hey Mr Stark, I mean Tony."

"I've got some good news."

"You mean I get to leave this room, stop having Bruce frantically worry over me?"

"Well that, and I've got a permanent home for you."

"Mr Stark, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go."

Tony put his hands on Peter's shoulders - trying to calm the boy down, "No, Peter, I mean you get to stay with me. I adopted you."

Peter's worried expression vanished, leaving a confused smile on his face, "Thank you Mr Stark, thank you," he whispered as he hugged the older man.