Missing Faces In Empty Pictures

Chapter 1

Peter Parker was having a bad day.

No, scratch that. Peter was having a bad week. The pressing demands from the Daily Bugle coupled with being called in to work overtime at the diner had kept him on his toes for days-not to mention the particularly nasty scuffle with two bank robbers that left him with a cracked rib and likely concussion the night before. If he's being honest, the visible bruise forming on his forehead right now is probably the only reason he didn't get fired after oversleeping and showing up to his shift two hours late that morning. Again. To put it lightly, his life is a wreck. But he does what he can to get by. He has to. Because if he doesn't, there is no one left to help him pick up the pieces.

He's alone. Has been for almost a year now. Ever since Strange cast that spell to make everyone forget about Peter Parker. He doesn't regret his decision though. It was the right thing to do and he knows it. But that doesn't mean he doesn't grieve for his old life. For his friends. His family. He won't lie, it had been complete misery at first. With Peter Parker erased from existence he'd had to rebuild his life from the ground up. It was simply pure luck that he found an apartment affordable enough for him to move into, but that was only the start of his troubles. Rent wasn't cheap and without a source of stable income he knew it would only be a matter of time before he'd be back on the street again. That's how he ended up working for one of the men that played a primary role in ruining his life: J. Jonah Jameson. Owner of the Daily Bugle.

Had things been different Peter would never dare work for that slimy man, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Now Peter provides the front page photos of Spider-Man that the paper uses to publicly tear the masked vigilante down. But it helps pay the bills and that's all that matters. One job didn't cover the rent situation though, which is how he found himself working 9-5 hour shifts at Benny's Diner six days out of the week. It's a lot, but he gets by. In many ways the long hours provid the distraction he desperately needs.

In the beginning, he'd gone back to MJ's coffee shop on a regular basis, however he never worked up the courage to tell her the truth. Seeing how happy she looked made him realize that it was better for her this way. Safer for her without him in her life. At least that is what he told himself. And anyway, just being around her in some capacity was enough to keep him semi-sane. But then the summer ended and MJ was gone. Off to MIT with Ned. That was the day Peter felt truly alone. It got better though. Sort of. The emotions eventually turned from a sharp pain to an ever present numbness. The grief concealed in walls he built around his own heart. The initial shock of isolation dumbed down to a pattern that eventually became his routine. It wasn't great, but it was manageable. And that was all he needed.

---------------------

"Order 27 ready!"

Peter snapped out of his exhausted daze and made his way back to the serving counter where Owen just set down four plates of food: two BLT sandwiches, a double bacon cheeseburger, and a Philly cheesesteak. All adorned with a signature side of sweet potato fries. Slowly he balanced the plates along his arms and made his way to deliver them to the awaiting customers. Looking up at the clock he saw that it was not yet two in the afternoon. He sighed. It had already been a long day and he felt desperate to go home and curl up in bed. After giving the food to a young family he'd come to recognize as one of the diner's regulars, Peter made his way around the dining hall collecting other orders, refilling drinks, and checking in on various clients. His head was throbbing from the hit he took last night, but he tried to ignore it and push through.

"About three more hours" he whispered to himself. "That's it. You can make it."

"Peter? You sure you're okay man?" he heard Owen ask as he made his way back to the counter to retrieve another order. Leave it to Owen to notice that something was wrong. Of everyone Peter had met in his "post-spell" life, Owen was the only one Peter would consider a real friend, and he always seemed to tell when Peter was having an off day. Right now, his dark features were drawn together as he gazed at Peter in concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a long night is all," Peter replied, hoping he sounded more alert than he felt.

"Okay. But if you need to take a break for a minute I'll cover for you. Not gonna lie man, you look like shit."

Despite himself Peter laughed. "Thanks for the compliment," he quipped. "I'll be fine though," he said as he grabbed the two new dishes off the counter and made his way back to the main dining area.

"Alright. But I'm serious Parker, don't overdo yourself!" Owen called after him. Peter smiled and shook his head. From the day they'd met Owen had seemed like a genuine guy, and Peter couldn't deny that It felt nice to know that someone was looking out for him. Especially when everyone else was gone.

No Parker, don't think like that. You can not afford to go down that road again.

Peter set the plates of food down in front of the clients and was about to make his way back to the counter when an older man at the table stopped him. "Excuse me sir, you got my drink wrong. I ordered a Diet Pepsi, not fruit punch.

Peter turned around and mentally slapped himself. How many times had his boss told him to pay closer attention when refilling drinks?

Maybe I do need to take Owen up on that offer for a break after all?

With an apology Peter grabbed the glass from the man and made his way back to the kitchen's fountain drink machine. With a yawn he pressed the glass against the button for Diet Pepsi and watched as the sugary liquid began pouring out. With his free hand he rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the sleep deprived exhaustion from his mind and regain focus. Without warning, the volume in the diner rises behind him. The sudden sound of gasps and rushing feet startling him out of his clouded thoughts.

"Holy shit!" he heard Owen exclaim. "Parker, you need to see this!"

Alarmed and thoroughly confused, Peter turned around to see everyone gathered in the dining area facing the small TV that was hanging on the wall. Still gripping the glass of soda, Peter made his way out of the kitchen to see what had got everyone so riled up.

"I don't believe it?"

"How is it possible?"

"After two years, I thought for sure he was gone!"

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion. What could be so important to cause this reaction? He felt his heart start racing as panic began to boil inside him.

What if it's another threat or invasion? I don't know if I could take on another Avengers level emergency. I don't know if I'd want to.

Aftering pushing through the kitchen's bright red doors, he comes to a halt in front of the TV. With a start, the glass he's been holding shatters on the ground. He can feel the exact moment his heart stops dead in his chest. His breath stuck in his lungs. Someone is yelling at him for the sticky soda mess he just deposited on the checkered, tiled floor, but he blocks it out. Doesn't even try to care. Because in front of him Tony Stark is being broadcast for the world to see.