Pain and Power

__--__Chapter 6__--__

Peter wished that he could remember more of his life than just a few moments that he couldn't even place. He wished that he knew exactly what he did, and why whatever accident he'd been in (was it something to do with being an Avenger? Because that in itself was crazy) warranted the loss of his right arm.

He wished that he could actually remember whole memories, about Mister Stark and May and Morgan. With Miss Potts (who Mister Stark had explained was his wife, and the CEO of his huge ass tech company) and Rhodey and Happy, and... whoever else there was that he couldn't remember.

It was very disconcerting; being alone in his hospital room, with absolutely nothing to distract him from the fact that he couldn't remember anything solid about himself.

Mister Stark had left him with his bed pushed back down to a laying position, and the light on his bedside table off. Peter had since put the bed back up, and turned the light back on — so that he could see the wall that he was staring at in better clarity.

The wall wasn't very interesting, and neither was the emptiness in his brain — trying to find something interesting in both was seeming increasingly pointless as the minutes ticked on, without further memories nor anything more than the slightly uneven paint on the wall.

Peter wasn't sure how long it was before his mind became slightly less blank — and he remembered something.

It was cold, in his memory, and there wasn't much sound around. In front of him, writing out some sort of list, was a woman with long brown hair, and roundish glasses — his Aunt May.

"Auntie May?"

The voice seemed to be coming from him, although he didn't actually speak. May looked up from what she was doing, placing her pen down and smiling at him. "Yeah, Petey?"

"Can you please tell me a story?"

Mays smile softened, and she stood from the couch where she was sitting and grabbed what Peter assumed was the hand of memory-him. "You want a story, Huh?" She paused. "Well, my stories aren't anywhere near as good as your Uncle Ben's stories, but I'm sure we can figure something out, yeah?"

Peter stared at the wall in front of him again, letting the memory fade into the back of his mind again — just not so far back that he became unable to recall it again.

Uncle Ben.

Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben. He knew Uncle Ben. He knew that he knew Uncle Ben, and that... that Uncle Ben was important in several ways, but he just... couldn't remember. He narrowed his eyes, trying to force himself to remember more — which was partially successful.

"Peter!"

Memory-him hummed softly in response, and the man sitting across from him, with the short brown hair and the green jacket on, grinned.

"You will never, ever guess what I managed to do!"

Memory-Peter looked up in interest. "What?"

"So you know my buddy, Sarge?"

"Sarge from work?"

"Yeah!" The man, who Peter assumed to be Uncle Ben nodded enthusiastically. "Well, Sarge's son just started a job at Stark Industries, and so Sarge gave us... These!" He brought out three fancy-looking tickets, with 2010 STARK EXPO written on them in bold letters. Memory-him let out a delighted squeal.

"Oh my god! Uncle Ben — this is — this is awesome! Wait till I tell Ned, Uncle Ben, he's gonna absolutely freak! Thank you so, so, so-so-so-so much! Thank you!"