Lost in Translation

No Where Left To Run

**Goodness, I am SO sorry this is coming so late!! As some of my followers know, I had a very unexpected life thing happen (I hate life things) and I needed some time to recover. Updates may still be kind of slow and erratic, I am still figuring things out and trying to get back to my good ol' self. Thank you for y'all's kind messages and comments in the last week or so, and thank you for your patience! You know those comedy shows where so many things go wrong at once and you're like "That's impossible!" Well, that just happened to me, but it was real, and it wasn't funny, it was just one sad/scary thing after another. Enough of that, though! Get ready for this one, guys, this chapter is... heavy. In addition to that, I had half of it written before my impromptu hiatus, so it's extra long. Enjoy!**

"Peter, don't go too far in!" May called, lowering herself onto the beach towel as the 6 year old took off towards the water. Little feet left small prints in the wet sand and he tripped every few steps.

"May, May! Watch!" Peter jumped up and down in the waves, kicking up water in a huge arc of spray.

The older woman laughed, watching her nephew enjoy himself.

"May, look! I can-" Peter was sucked under the waves, an undertow pulling him out into the deeper water. He thrashed in the water, fighting for air and searching vainly for which way was up. Water spun him around, the undertow and the tide fighting for his limbs and body. Wharf and sand muddied the water, making it impossible for the child to see. Lips parted, a scream trying to push out, but water choked Peter's lungs and he spluttered. He felt air against his face and hair as he bobbed, but each time, the water pulled him right back under.

Suddenly, the water seemed to calm, and Peter was released from the tides. Opening cautious eyes, he looked around, little hands and feet treading water. He was farther out into the ocean now. He could tell by the way a dark cloud of sand and wharf, clearly the shore, was swirling out of his reach. Peter reveled in the calm, cool waters as he began to float, his body righting itself in the water.

Breaching the surface, the child took a deep gasp of air and began swimming back towards shore, where May met him with frantic eyes and panicked sobs.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, young man," she scolded. "I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. You're all I have now."

Peter didn't know how he ended up on top of the bridge in the first place. He perched, hands steady against the cool concrete and steel. He crouched, staring down at the world below. Water, seemingly miles below him, gently oscillated. His eyes were unfocused, taking in the scene, May's words from years ago echoing in his mind as he stared down into the river.

May was gone now. He'd abandoned her, the only thing she had left, and no there would be no way to get that back. No way to hear her voice one more time. No way to call her and tell her that he'd found his mother after...

Peter wished he could go back, even just a month. Back to when May was there to hug him, back to when he was just a SHIELD agent, back to when he at least thought he knew who he was.

Pulling out his phone, Peter pulled up his voicemail.

May, September 7th, 9:14am.

"Hey, мой маленький паук, I'm so sorry I can't be there for the first day of school. I'm going to switch shifts tonight so I can be home for dinner. Pick up whatever you want, okay, even Delmar's if you want. I know I said I never wanted to eat there again, but I know it's your favorite and - Oh, merda, I have to get back to my patient. Okay, ti amo!" (Translations (in order): My little spider, shit, and I love you.)