A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry for the late update. Things haven't been the best lately, school has been kicking my ass, and I've just had no motivation do anything in general.

Anyway, I felt really conflicted about adding this chapter as the state of the world has been so somber lately and this chapter isn't pleasant but I finally decided to just add it.

Please leave a comment - I love those things! Leave a review, some constructive criticism, or even just tell me how you've been (or write me a silly little poem).

P.S. I am not a healthcare worker or have any prior knowledge of comas or strokes so this is most likely medically inaccurate. This entire work is probably medically inaccurate. So, don't come at me!

"May?" Peter choked out, scooting closer to her bed.

Peter's mind was racing, he didn't know what to do. Should he call Bruce? Should he try to keep May awake?

"You really scared me, May." Peter whispered as he held his aunt's hand even tighter.

May gave Peter a small half smile, her lips quirking to the right side of her face as she squeezed Peter's hand.

"You're going to be okay. Tony, he's been taking really good care of you." Peter said, reaching out his other hand to touch May's cheek.

May sluggishly blinked and squeezed Peter's hand again.

"Tony's been taking really good care of me too. So has Pepper. Everybody has been looking out for me recently." Peter was quick to assure his aunt.

May shifted her head to look at Peter, her smile growing a bit on her right side, her hand still griping Peter's. May's eyes began to flutter and Peter thought his aunt was losing consciousness again.

"May, I love you." Peter said, feeling like he had to get the sentiment off his chest.

Suddenly, the monitors in her room went off.

May's hand began to spasm around Peter's, her head jerking in a nodding motion, the left side of her face completely going slack as a rattling breath seemed to emanate from her throat.

Peter was frozen in place.

The door to May's room burst open and Bruce came running in, followed by the rest of the medical team.

"I need someone to remove him." Bruce called over his shoulder, gesturing toward Peter.

"No!" Peter screamed, gripping May's hand tighter as someone approached him.

He knew he should move, should give them the room to help his aunt, but her couldn't even breathe. Peter felt arms wrapping around his torso and he was quickly pulled out of his seat. May's hand slipped out of his and Peter couldn't even find the strength to fight them anymore.

Before he knew it, Peter was placed in the hallway and May's door was being shut in his face. Gasping, Peter stepped backwards until his back hit the wall, his leg protesting every step he took. He slid down the wall, his face soaked with tears and hyperventilating. Distantly, Peter realized that Clint and Steve were both running down the hall towards him.

Then everything went dark.

Peter's hearing was the first thing that came back to him. He could hear somebody breathing next to him, most likely siting vigil by his bedside, and Rhodey out in the hallway.

"No Tones, he hasn't woken up… yeah, the doctor said she threw a blood clot…. had a major stroke right in front of… she didn't make it…"

She didn't make it.

Peter felt his heart drop into his stomach at those words.

She didn't make it.

"Peter?"

Peter realized that he had been holding his breath when he heard Rhodey's words and whoever was in the room with him had noticed that he was no longer asleep.

Slowly, Peter opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that he was in his own bedroom, not some bed down in the medbay.

The second was that Clint was sitting by his bed, Thor standing near the door, and Steve by his window. Peter made eye contact with Thor who, in turn, opened the door and stuck his head out into the hallway.

Quickly Rhodey came into the room, phone pressed to his ear.

"He's awake… yeah, hold on." Rhodey said, pulling his phone back and putting it on speaker, "He can hear you now."

"Peter, kiddo, listen. I'm on my way back right now. I'm in the suit. I'm about two hours out right now, okay? Pepper and Morgan are boarding the jet as we speak. They'll be at the tower tomorrow morning. Peter… I'm so sorry kiddo. I'm so sorry. I wish I was there with you right now but I'll be there so soon. Rhodey said everybody is taking really good care of you and if they aren't then they'll have to deal with me." Tony rambled.

Tony's been taking really good care of me. Everybody has been looking out for me.

Peter felt his stomach twist.

"Peter?" Tony asked after no response.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed underneath his blankets. He knew he was being childish, but he didn't know what to say. What to do.

She didn't make it.

"Yeah Tones… I'll let him know…" Rhodey said, having taken the phone off speaker.

A hand snaked across his pillow and began to play with the bits of Peter's hair that was sticking out from underneath the blanket. It was such a paternal action that it could only have been Clint's hand and Peter tried to focus all his attention on it, rather than the fact that he was now truly an orphan in every sense of the word.

She didn't make it.

Peter stayed underneath his blanket for two hours and seventeen minutes. Steve and Rhodey both tried coaxing him out with mentions of food and video games before Clint told them to back off and give him some space. Thor also left with them but Peter could still hear his heartbeat right outside the door, as if her were standing watch.

Clint stayed, though.

He continued to play with his hair, trying to comfort him in any way he could. Sometimes Clint would tell Peter where Tony was, having asked Friday to send updates to his phone. Clint never tried to get Peter to talk and for that he was grateful. At some point, Peter's phone started ringing and Clint told him it was Michelle. Peter didn't know what he would say to her if he picked up so Clint let his phone ring and then texted MJ that Peter would get back to her soon.

Not long after that, Peter heard the telltale signs of the Iron Man suit landing on the pad a couple floors down from the penthouse level. A few minutes later Peter's bedroom door was opening and Tony was heading for his bed. Clint's hand left his hair and was soon replaced with Tony's.

"Hey kiddo." Tony whispered, sitting down into the chair Clint had been in.

Peter slowly pulled his head out from underneath his blanket and looked up at Tony.

His room was a lot darker than it had been when he had first woken up and everybody else had left. Tony was leaning over him, fingers working out the knots in his hair.

"There's that handsome face," Tony muttered, reaching his other hand out and cupping Peter's cheek.

Peter almost flinched as the cold metal hand came in contact with his skin.

"Is May really dead?" Peter asked, his voice hoarse.

Tony froze in his ministrations, his face morphing into a sadness that Peter had seen so many times before. It was the same sadness that May and Ben had on their faces when they told him that his parents weren't coming home. It was the same sadness the nurse had when she told him that Ben had died from his gunshot wound. It was the same sadness Peter himself had worn when he told May that her husband had died.

"Yeah Pete, she is. I am so, so sorry." Tony said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Peter's forehead.

Peter closed his eyes and tried to hold back the tears that so desperately wanted to be released. Tony leaned forward and drew Peter into his arms, Peter's face fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck.

He couldn't hold back the tears, sobs choking him, chest heaving. Tony cradled the back of Peter's head and wrapped an arm around his back. He kept up a mantra of, what Tony hoped were, comforting words as he rocked the distraught teen.

Gradually, Peter calmed down and his body went completely limp in Tony's hold.

"I don't know what to do." Peter whispered.

Tony gently squeezed Peter before pulling back to look him in the eye.

"Right now you should take a nice, hot shower. Then, when you get out I will have the comfiest sweats laid out for you to wear. Rhodey and Steve have been busy cooking, what appears to be, my entire kitchen so there will be plenty to eat. That's all you have to do right now. Clean up and eat. Just focus on those two things and we'll move on from there. Okay?" Tony said, pushing the hair out of Peter's face.

Peter nodded, not looking Tony in the eye. Tony chose not to bring it up.

"Bruce left some crutches for you to use. He thinks we can push the surgery back another day but no more than that." Tony explained, extricating himself from Peter to grab the crutches.

Peter didn't say anything as he took the crutches from him. Tony pulled Peter's blankets back and Peter swung his legs over the side of his bed. He leaned heavily on the crutches as he moved toward his bathroom and Tony began to rifle through Peter's chest of drawers.

Peter shut the door softly behind him as he entered the bathroom and leaned his crutches against the wall. He hobbled over to the shower and turned the knob, letting the hot water burst out and begin to steam up the room. Peter turned and gripped the edge of the sink, breathing deeply. He was trying to clear his mind, trying to take control over the situation.

He glanced up at the mirror and sighed. His eyes were swollen and his cheeks were red, tear tracks staining his face. His bottom lip was bleeding from where he had been biting it while underneath the blanket. Peter continued to stare at his reflection until Tony knocked on the door.

"I laid some clothes out for you kiddo. I'll be in the kitchen so just have Friday get me when you're done." He called through the closed door.

Peter pushed away from the sink and began to strip his clothes off. He waited until he couldn't hear Tony's heartbeat right outside the door anymore before getting underneath the hot spray of water.

There was a childish part of Peter that hoped if he got the water hot enough, it would melt him down into a puddle and he could slip down the drain. He could slither away down the cold and lonely pipes until he ended up at the ocean where he would become nothing more than a drop in the massive sea of water. No responsibilities. Nobody to mourn.

But Peter had dealt with this before. He had mourned the deaths of his parents and his Uncle Ben and he would mourn the death of May and he would come out on the other side. He would survive.

He always did.

A/N: I've been thinking about what I want to do with this piece and I've come to the conclusion that this particular story will have just a few more chapters added to it. I'm going to place this story into a collection and I will continue to write in this world. I'll probably do some more chaptered fics but will intersperse them with stories ranging from oneshots to three-chapter fics.

Let me know what y'all think about that!