Now You're in the Stars (And Six-Feet's Never Felt So Far)

Chapter 1: I'm Still Holding On to Everything That's Dead and Gone

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good...

I don't wanna go."

Peter Parker shot up violently in bed, gasping and reeling from the nightmare. The memory. In an effort to calm his racing heart and tingling body, still trapped in the painful aftershocks of the memory of turning to dust, he stumbled off his bed and curled up on the floor. The cold wafting up from the wooden surface was enough to keep him grounded, to keep him present.

As he sat there, huddled in the corner of the room trying to name things he could touch, hear, see, smell and taste, the pain of dusting was replaced by one Peter was all to familiar with. Grief. Loss. Mr. Stark was the third figure in his life Peter had considered a father, someone he admired, someone he wanted to make proud, someone he loved. Mr. Stark was the third father figure he'd lost, the second he'd watch die and the worst funeral he'd ever attend.

Ben's funeral had been rough, terrible even. The guilt hanging over him, staining his hands, had been almost too much for Peter as he stood there in the chilly New York morning, holding Aunt May as she fell apart. Ben was the love of May's life, but this was the only time since he died that Peter had seen May truly grieve. This was the only moment, it seemed, May would allow herself to fall apart. So no matter how suffocating the guilt, he would stand there and bear it. He would continue to shoulder May's weight and her grief. Afterwords, she locked herself in her room. But thin walls and enhanced senses allowed Peter to hear her rustle through papers, photos and memories. It also allowed Peter to continue to hear her small sobs, hiccups and tears. He fell asleep that night wondering why he hadn't done something. He'd been right there. Why hadn't it been him?

The next morning, May was back to a semblance of normal. She was still more quiet than usual, but she greeted Peter when he emerged from his room to eat the breakfast she had made. She had kept up conversation throughout breakfast, and she told Peter that by the end of the week she would be back at work. She hugged him tight on his way out the door, and promised him that they would be ok. It was them against the world.

Now, looking back, Peter had no idea how May had managed to be so strong. Ben raised him. Ben was more of a father than his own father had been. He had died when Peter was 6, and even before that, his parents had often needed to go away because of their research. So, truly, Ben was the only real father Peter remembered. But he was Aunt May's husband. The love of her life. They'd been together more than 15 years. Longer than Peter had been alive at the time of Ben's death. Peter was weighed down by a combination of guilt and grief, but he couldn't begin to imagine how May had felt.

Today though, today was worse. He swore to himself after Ben and after Spider-Man, he would never allow someone he cared about to die if there was something he could do. But, on that battle field and in that chaos, overwhelmed with being alive again so suddenly after disappearing so painfully, he'd passed the gauntlet on. And it had ended up with Mr. Stark. Once again, Tony Stark saved everyone. Once again, Tony Stark was ready to sacrifice himself for Earth. Only this time, he did. And he wasn't coming back.

Peter thought nothing would feel worse than losing Ben, than being responsible for Ben's death. But he was wrong. This grief, this pain, this guilt was even worse. Not only had he lost someone he had admired since he was three years old, his hero, but the world had lost their greatest defender and a little girl - who Peter didn't learn about until long after the dust of the battle settled - had lost her father. Now Morgan, so much like Peter at that age, would have to grow up without her father. Peter would have to burry his third. And it was his fault.

Suddenly the floor he was curled up on was too cold. There was a chill, an emptiness that spread into his bones and now all he felt was that he needed to get away. Peter couldn't be sure if it was the turbulent emotions or the remnants of the nightmare, but he needed to move, to get away from the corner he had curled up in. So, he grabbed some clothes and stumbled his way into the bathroom. He knew it was far too early to be awake, but he also knew he couldn't go back to sleep. The only thing more painful than reliving his own death in his nightmares, would be reliving Mr. Stark's only to wake up and realize that it wasn't only a nightmare.