just another one shots book

Bye...mum

Warnings: character deaths, angst( though just a bit).

"Nat!" Peter shouted when he saw his parental figure fall.

He ran to her taking out HYDRA agents as he went. He finally reached her with a trail of bodies behind him. He didn't allow himself to freeze up when he saw her condition.

She had blood gushing out of her side from a bullet wound and her body was littered in cuts and bruises. He tried to lift her up but she stopped him.

"I'm not gonna make it Peter," she said softly.

Tears filled his eyes and he shook his head, "No. Don't say things like that, your gonna be okay."

He fell on his knees and sat down on his legs. She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled. "Don't worry my little spider."

Her gaze shifted to the night sky as she lowered her hand. A tear fell from her eye. "The stars are so pretty. I can never see them back home."

"Yeah," Peter agreed as he looked up at the stars, "There's too much light pollution."

"I love you Peter, your the best thing that ever happened to me. Don't ever forget that," Natasha said her voice barely above a whisper.

Tears blurred Peter's vision and he blinked them away. "I love you too."

He looked down at her. Her eyes were blank and her chest had stopped moving. He tears filled his eyes again and he chocked back a sob.

He shifted his position and instead pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He rocked back and forth as he stared at her lifeless form.

Memories flooded his brain as if to mock him of what he wasn't gonna have ever again.

***

five-year-old Peter Parker shivered from the cold. He curled in on himself to keep warm. He was in the warmest alley he could find. All he had to wear was a tattered t shirt and a pair of shorts. He covered himself with a jacket he had found in the trash.

It was winter and he couldn't thermoregulate so by the time the week was over he would have died of hypothermia.

When he heard footsteps approaching he held his breath and prayed that whoever it was wouldn't notice him. A bunch of petty thugs liked to mess with him for fun and occasionally beat him up..

"Hey, would you look at that. It's the little pip-squeak," somebody said. Their speech was slurred, they were definitely drunk.

Somebody grabbed the jacket that was keeping him warm and threw it off him. A hand grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up so he was dangling a few centimeters from the ground.

He screamed and tried to beat away the hand that had a hold of him. He received a punch to the gut which effectively shut him up.

"That's right brat, keep that little mouth closed if you know what good for you," another drunkard's voice said.

"If you know what's good for you you'll leave that kid alone," another voice said. It was different from the rest. It was a woman's voice and it wasn't slurred either.

"Would you look at that, we've got a pretty lady trying to save this brat. Go home this is no place for a girl."

Peter kept his eyes shut tight. He was thrown aside and he curled into a protective ball. All he could here was fighting.

He didn't move even when the fighting stopped and all that he could hear was groans of pain. He flinched when someone placed their hand on him.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," the woman from before said. "You must be cold."