Spiderman Oneshots

Funeral

The final scene from NWH, as seen by Happy.

There was a man called Ben at the funeral.

He recognised the name. May's ex-husband was no secret, but from the way she'd spoken about him he'd foolishly assumed that he was dead, not divorced.

He introduced himself as Harold. Pepper was the only one left who called him Happy. "We were... together," he explained awkwardly.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Ben told him. The words felt as meaningless as they did when anyone else said them. "May was an amazing woman, any man would have been lucky to have her."

Harold's smile didn't reach his eyes. "She talked about you sometimes. I'm guessing you didn't stay in touch?"

Ben winced. "No. It wasn't a particularly friendly split. She deserved better than me - I couldn't handle it."

"Handle what?"

He shook his head. "I don't even remember. How stupid is that?" He smiled sadly down at the grave. "I remember it should have been my problem to deal with, but she took it all on herself. Always did. She didn't have time for fools like me after that."

They stayed there for another minute before Ben excused himself. Harold didn't see him again.

~

There was a young man at the grave.

It was a snowy day, and Harold slowed his crunching footsteps as he drew closer. The man crouched to lay a single white rose and stood with his head bowed and hands clasped. He hadn't been at the funeral.

Harold drew level with the man and bent his own head to pay his respects. The week since the funeral had been a rough one. The world was darker and colder without May's flame.

A heavy moment of grief passed. Harold could see the man watching him anxiously from the corner of his eye. Not anxiously. With something between expectation and trepidation. He was waiting for Harold to say something, he realised. Was he worried that he wasn't welcome at the grave because he wasn't invited to the funeral? No vandal would have laid a rose so reverently.

Roses were May's favourite.

"How did you know her?" Harold asked. His breath puffed and vanished on a cold breeze.

The young man swallowed and his shoulders slumped a little. With relief, Harold hoped.

"Through Spider-Man," was the reply. It surprised him a little. He'd been expecting a connection through FEAST. May had helped so many people, young and otherwise, through her charity. But maybe Spider-Man had brought him to FEAST. Or maybe introduced him directly to May. Maybe they'd been close. For all that it felt that she'd been in his life forever, Harold had only really been a part of May's life for a year. He didn't presume to know everything about her. Not even most.

"You?" The man asked.

Harold gave a small nod, lost in memory. "Same." After the blip, May had started FEAST and Spider-Man had been one of the charity's biggest supporters. It meant that Harold spent a lot of time in their building, where he'd eventually met May. He'd been the hero's unofficial babysitter at Tony's request, but even with his boss in the ground he'd stuck by Spider-Man. He had a light that was all too similar to May's - an earnest desire to help however he could.

Spider-Man hadn't contacted him recently. He wasn't at the funeral. He had a new suit, not one that Tony had built, and people said he'd lost some of his joy.

Harold knew the feeling.

The inscription on the stone was 'When you help someone, you help everyone.' It was perfect for May. Spider-Man, too. Tony, in the end.

"I lost a good friend a while back," Harold found himself saying into the silence. The man didn't look like the desperate ones who came to May. His coat looked new and his clothes were clean. But May and Tony both had taught him that money wasn't the only thing people needed. The young man had a weight on his shoulders. His face looked like it was designed to be sad and his jaw was set like he was expecting an attack. He looked lost. "It felt like this."

And it had. Seeing Pepper arrive back from the battlefield alone, seeing the limp figure in Rhodey's arms... It had felt exactly like when he drove up to his apartment and saw the silhouette of Spider-Man cradling her body in the fire.

"It hurts because they're gone," he told the man. "And then, it hurts all over again because you remember what they stood for, and you wonder," he hesitated. The young man's gaze was fixed on the grave but he was listening intently. "Is all that gone too?"

When you help someone, you help everyone. Did that mindset die with her?

"No, it's not gone."

And if his face looked like a boat left drifting at sea, the young man's voice held all the determination of the strongest anchor. Harold found himself blinking with surprise as well as emotion.

"Everyone that she helped?" The man gave a nod and finally looked away from the stone. "They'll keep it going," he offered Harold a smile.

"You really think so?"

"I know it."

The conviction in his eyes was the same as May's. She always saw the best in people.

Yes, Harold thought. Maybe it would live on.