I'm Finding My Way (Through The Dark) {On Temporary Hiatus)

Part 1 (The First Session)

Peter's P.O.V

After a whole week at school (it had been Monday previously), it was Friday. Much to MJ and Ned's delight and my displeasure. They weren't coming with me, but they did wish me good luck. 

I had decided to wear a science joke t-shirt, the one with the pizza and fractions. Along with jeans, and a hoodie. And I had secretly stashed Karen in the glasses I was wearing (they're not sun glasses), along with web shooters on my wrists (as a watch and paracord bracelet), and silly string in my coat. Just in case.

As I walked into the 'Superhero Therapy' office or some crappy name of the place, I sat in a random chair that looked like it wasn't going to be used. There were only two. Only two 'super' heroes signed up for this. Well, it's not like I did, I was forced. Because all's fair in love and war, right? Please note the sarcasm.

Only a few minutes later, in walked two other people. One was the therapist, and right after was... holy crap, that's Tony Stark. The therapist sat down, and suddenly I felt out of place. Mr Stark sat down a few minutes later.

"I'm in the wrong place, aren't I." I said, about to get up. The therapist (the name tag read 'Gina Yinder'), sighed.

"No, your not. Your in the right place, Peter." She said kindly. She seemed like a nice lady. Her firery red hair (like she was Ginny Weasley) was straight, and she seemed kinda like Lilly Potter from the book Harry Potter, written by J.K Rowling.

Mr. Stark, on the other hand, looked like I felt. Out of place, nervous, and like he wanted to bolt out the door.

"Now, introduce yourselves to each other." She said. Immediately, we both protested.

"He probably already knows who I am-" Mr. Stark protested.

"I'm just a nobody from Queens, why would my name be remembered by Tony Stark-" I protested. She gave us a look. We shut up.

"Introduce yourselves. Real name, alias, favorite color. Peter, add in your favorite Avenger. Tony, your favorite New York hometown hero." She said carefully. We both visibly deflated. "Tony, you first." She said.

"Hi, I'm Tony Stark, a.k.a Iron Man. My favorite color is red and my favorite New York hometown hero is Spider-man." He said. Dr. Yinder looked like she was containing her laughter.

"Peter, now you." She said. I grumbled.

"Can I wait until next week?" I asked hopefully. She shook her head. "Fine. Peter Parker, a.k.a Spider-man. My favorite color... can't decided between blue and red, and my favorite Avenger is Tony Stark." I said. Pretending like it was just a stupid thing in school. Mr. Stark looked like he didn't quite know what to do with his emotions, yet he looked disturbed.

"Your a baby, and your fighting crime." He started. My face went aflame with embarrassment.

"Not a baby, I'm 15!" I protested. Dr. Yinder cleared her throat.

"Eh em." She said, successfully breaking apart the worry-lecture Mr. Stark had no doubtedly come up with in his head and my rebutals that I had come up with. "Now, tell me what caused your PTSD. One at a time, Tony first." She said. He looked like he would rather run out the window, call one of his suits, and go back to his tower or compound. But he started to speak anyways.

"Afghanistan." He said, tense. It was clear that he didn't want to elaborate further. Dr. Yinder than turned to me, along with Mr. Stark.

"I don't like to talk about it." I mumbled. Thinking of when I was just 6. And than there are the nightmares that make no sense. In them, I'm even younger than I was when I was kidnapped when I was 6. More scared, too.

"Please, Peter. It'll never get better if you don't say anything." Dr. Yinder pleaded. I sighed, and looked down at my lap.

"Fine. When I was 6, I was with Ned. We were at the park with his parents. When it started to get dark, we couldn't find them again. Than it had gone black, and than we weren't at the park." I said softly. Not willing to tell anymore.

"Where were you?" Dr. Yinder asked softly. I looked up from my lap, and straight into her eyes.

"I'm not talking about it." I said stubbornly, but my voice wavered just a bit. When I blinked, in the back of my eyelids I was back there. Being forced to use my intelligence, my hacking skills... for nothing but terrorism. They nodded.

"You don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to." Dr. Yinder said gently. I nodded, grateful about that. 

But my mind was a whirlwind, with memories coming and going through my mind's eye. My uncle and aunt dead in front of me (I wasn't fast enough, I could have done something). The yells and screams of my parents as I watched silently, carefully as they argued (they were arguing over why they shouldn't just send me into foster care for being so needy- Mom was on my side). The fire from the plane crash (no one would have care if I had died, maybe Ned and MJ, but that's it). The lying face of Quentin Beck, a.k.a Mysterio, as he pointed a gun at me (he had said he was my friend). The face of Dr. Connors as he looked at me as a lizard (I've known him since I was small).

"-Peter? Kid?" Mr. Stark said, looking and sounding a little worried. I blinked, and shook my head.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"You okay?" he asked. Dr. Yinder looked at me with concern, along with Mr. Stark.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I said (it's only ever been a lie). Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows skeptically, but didn't say anything.

And for that I was grateful.

When the therapy session ended, I went home to an empty apartment like usual. When I closed the door, I collapsed, crying. Why did I have to be alone? Why did everyone I love have to leave before I ever got a chance to say good bye?

---

A/N Hope you enjoyed this!