Chapter Text
It had been five months, one week, and three days since Spider-Man had been seen. It had been five months, one week, and three days since Bruce had snapped, reversing what Thanos had done five years earlier. It had been five months, one week, and three days since Peter followed Doctor Strange through a portal and found himself in the middle of yet another battle. It had been five months, one week, and three days since Mr. Stark had pulled Peter into his arms and held him close. It had been five months, one week, and three days since Iron Man had snapped, destroying Thanos and almost killing himself.
It had been five months, one week, and three days since the Starks were swept off to Wakanda, inadvertently leaving Peter behind on the battlefield. He knew Pepper and Rhodey were beside themselves with worry over Tony, that had been five years since they had worried over Peter. He knew they didn't mean anything by it. And the other Avengers didn't know his name or age or what Mr. Stark meant to him. Or so he told himself. Repeatedly.
Because it had also been five months, one week, and three days since he had been dropped off in Queens by the Falcon. It had been five months, one week, and three days since he stashed his two suits in a little alcove on the roof of his old building, planning to return to retrieve them as soon as he found his Aunt May.
It had been five months, one week, and two days since he had found Aunt May in the hospital. Dying. Hit by a car when she was snapped back into existence. It had been five months, one week, two days since he had tried to call the Starks, only to realize he had no phone and no numbers and no way to reach them other than the public Stark Industries number. Only to have the receptionist at SI laugh at him and then hang up when he had worked up the courage to call there, trying to contact them.
It had been five months, one week, and one day since May had died, and a social service worker from the hospital dropped him off at a group home, explaining they would try to place him in a foster home once his paperwork and legal status had been resolved. Snickering at him when he suggested contacting the Starks.
It had been five months since Stark Industries blocked calls from LinkNYC kiosks, due to a record number of so-called prank calls. It has been four months, three weeks, and six days since the workers at the group home told him in no uncertain terms that, no, he could not use the phone and don't bother asking again. And, no, they would not be giving into his delusional requests to contact Iron Man. Don't be ridiculous.
It had been four months, three weeks, and two days since Pepper Potts-Stark announced her husband was recovering in Wakanda and requested privacy for their family.
It had been four months and three weeks since Peter, still not legally in existence, had left the group home, his senses unable to take the overcrowded conditions any longer. Sneaking out in the middle of the night. Alone. With no money and no phone and just the few clothes that had been provided to him at the group home. It had been four months and three weeks since he decided to try his hand surviving on the streets.
It had been four months and one week since he had managed to convince a small computer shop to hire him for his tech repair skills.
It had been three months and three weeks since he managed to find a one room apartment that let him pay cash and didn't require an ID.
It had been three months, one week, and five days since Stark Industries announced that Iron Man had returned to New York, but would be recovering indefinitely at the Stark family home located well outside the city.
It had been three months since he had gotten a decent fake ID, and he became 18 year old Ben Fitzpatrick.
It had been one month since Stark Industries announced an upcoming press event where Tony Stark and Pepper Potts-Stark would be meeting with the press and government officials to discuss how the Stark Foundation was assisting with relief efforts, plans for the future, and how they were partnering with government and charitable organization to help globally. It would be the first time the couple would be in the city since the Blip was reversed and the first time Tony Stark would be seen in public.
It had been three weeks since he had been fired for being late so often. It had been two weeks since he had been evicted for not being able to pay rent. And it had been ten days since he had last eaten anything remotely close to what his metabolism needed.
It had been five months, one week, and three days since anyone had held him. It had been five months, one week, and three days since anyone had cared about him. And it had been five months, one week, and three days since he had been seen.
And here he was, five months, one week, and three days later, standing outside Stark Industries Headquarters, not sure of where else to go or what else to do. He took a deep breath and walked through the front doors.
The lobby was a frenzy of energy. Members of the press being registered and herded through security. Stark Industries employees dashing every which way. Government officials and other VIPs being greeted and taken through a separate entrance.
He knew he looked out of place. He was dirty. His clothes were ratty and smelled. His hair was tangled and in need of a cut. But with Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts not living in the city anymore, he didn't know when else he could try this. He had no idea where their home was, just that it wasn't here. He just had to get through the lobby and then maybe he could convince the AI running the building to let him near the Starks or Happy. He didn't know how he would do it. All he knew was if he got near them, if they saw him, everything would finally be alright.
He spied the private elevator bank across the room. Most of the guards and staff were manning security in front of the public access ones, the ones tour groups and general employees used. If he could just get there. A week ago, he was sure he could do it. But anything he had managed to eat lately had gone to keeping his body functioning, not his enhancements. But he still had to try. He took another deep, steadying breath and darted across the entrance as quickly as he could.
He heard the shouts for him to stop. Calls for backup. Yells to alert upper level security. But he ignored them all and ran. Until he couldn't. Until he felt the weight of much larger bodies hitting him. Until he felt himself crashing to the floor, arms being pulled behind his back. That's when he finally understood that all hope truly was gone.