Hello, kricket here. No I doubt most of you will read this but it does not hurt to write this anyways. As I am sure most of my readers have already discovered, I am an erratic publisher and have irregular updates. One of the reasons is that I dislike rereading my work for grammatical errors. So, if anyone is interested in being a beta reader for any of my stories, not just this one, please send me a private message and we can set some thing up. The only requirement is some sort of proof that you know how to proofread. Thank you again for your time and please enjoy my story.

The stars had never seemed to bright in all of Mary Parker's thirty two years. They shone now, lighting the dark alley and reflecting off the broken glass scattered near the dumpsters creating a rainbow of fantastic color.

Mary stared as the colors formed shapes and danced across her vision, like fairies celebrating the moonlight and twirling with joy. Mary wanted to reach out and touch the mythical creatures and revel in their magic but something was holding her back.

A pain in her stomach, dull and distant, hardly noticeable yet it drove her attention from the enthralling waltz and she blinked.

The music halted and the shapes fractured in to a thousand shards and the world came into focus again. Resting near her face there was a hand, familiar, with a golden band encircling the fourth finger and dark splotched marring the rest of the pale skin. The fingers twitched and scrambled along the rough surface for purchase and finding none.

Mary breathed and choked as something wet caught in her throat. That was her hand, she realized abruptly.

Pain lanced through her abdomen and realization flooded through her mind. She had been shot.

Her eyes wandered down the alley to where a young boy was watching her. His mouth hung open in horror and tears streaked down his ruddy cheeks. Mary's heart broke to see him like that. Her mother instincts wanted to comfort him, protect him from the horrific scene that tarnished the peaceful night.

Peter. She thought distantly as she tried to call for him but was unable to form the words. Something dribbled out of her mouth, spit and blood, and trailed down to her chin.

Peter looked up from her to a point at the entrance to the alley that Mary could not see. She panicked, her inability to turn and see the approaching figure and gauge the threat level immediately turned her mind to the shooter, who was nowhere to be found.

A hand was on her arm, turning her over and pressure being applied to her abdomen, a kind voice whispered in her ear but she knew it was too late. Mary had seen it before, her first partner had bled out before the ambulance had arrived. There was nothing to be done to save her life.

Her blood speckled hand managed to grasp the unknown man's arm, getting his attention.

His eyes were beautiful, she thought. So kind and old even as his face is youthful. Mary trusted him instinctively but her thoughts were focused on her son.

"Nnn…." More blood dribbled from her mouth and was quickly wiped away by the stranger.

"Shh, its okay. The ambulance will be here soon." He soothed her.

"Panic coursed through her spine. The hospital was too dangerous for her son.

"Not Peter… nno hospttt…"Her voice strained as she felt the world darkening but Mary forced herself back into awareness.

"Peter is special." She rasped, her nails digging into his forearm.

"Please, protect him." Somehow the man understood the urgency of her request.

"Of course I will." He smiled a brilliant and sad smile, his eyes shone with sincerity.

"What is your name?" Mary felt laughter build in her throat but she swallowed it down.

"Doesn't matter" She whispered, her voice steadying as her heartbeat slowed. She could hear the sirens now and wanted her baby as far away from them as possible.

"It will to him." He nodded to the boy who had been watching silently apart from the choked sobs that were ripped from his throat.

Mary allowed herself a soft smile as she gazed on her son one last time.

"Mary Parker. His father, Richard." Mary looked up with the question in her eyes.

"My name is Clint Barton, and you have my word that you son will be safe with me." He swore, the green of his eyes darkening with solemnity.

Mary sighed and closed her eyes, the spirits once again appearing with their merry dance. This time there was nothing holding her back from joining them.