Spider-Man's heart pounded in his chest as he slowly regained consciousness, his vision a blur and his body screaming in protest against the pain and exhaustion that gripped him. His breath was shallow, his senses dulled, but one thing was painfully clear: the terror of not knowing where Y/N was, or what had happened to her, gnawed at him like a constant, insidious presence.

"Easy there, Spidey," a familiar voice soothed. Dr. Connor, his calm tone a stark contrast to the storm that raged inside Spider-Man's mind, gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've taken quite a beating."

Spider-Man blinked, the sterile environment of a medical bay coming into focus. His throat was raw, the words barely making it past his lips. "Where am I?"

Dr. Connor smiled weakly, his eyes filled with empathy. "You're aboard a SHIELD helicarrier. You're safe."

The words didn't sink in immediately. Spider-Man's mind was consumed by one singular thought, one desperate need. "Y/N," he croaked, his voice barely audible. His pulse quickened as he struggled to sit up, but dizziness threatened to pull him under. "Where is she?"

Dr. Connor's gaze faltered, his expression tinged with regret. "We're not sure, Spider-Man. We only know that she was the one who pulled you out of the river. You were both found on the riverbank."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. The Hudson River. The frantic chaos. The feeling of powerlessness. A flash of panic surged through Spider-Man's veins. "We need to find her," he insisted, his voice growing steadier despite the physical toll of his injuries.

But before Dr. Connor could respond, the doors to the medical bay slid open, and two of Spider-Man's closest allies entered. Power Man and Iron Fist, both of them grim, their faces etched with the unmistakable weight of defeat.

"We've been searching the entire city," Power Man's deep voice reverberated through the room. His words were heavy with disappointment. "We've scoured every inch, but we can't find her."

Iron Fist stepped forward, placing a firm but gentle hand on Spider-Man's trembling shoulder. "We're sorry, Spidey," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's like she vanished without a trace."

The silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Spider-Man's mind raced, trying to piece together the broken puzzle of the last few hours. The events had been so chaotic—too much had happened, and now, Y/N was gone. The pain of it washed over him in waves, more intense than any physical injury he'd ever endured.

Her face, always a beacon of warmth and hope, swam in his thoughts. She was the one constant, the one person who understood him completely, who knew the burdens of being a hero without needing to be told. And now she was lost, vanished from his life without a trace.

Power Man and Iron Fist tried to steady him as he collapsed, his knees giving way beneath him. The despair that had taken root in his chest threatened to swallow him whole. But the two heroes stood by him, their unwavering support evident in their every gesture.

"We're with you, man," Power Man reassured, his tone firm but filled with empathy.

Iron Fist's hand remained on Spider-Man's shoulder, offering a silent promise of support. "We won't give up," he said, his voice resolute.

But even as their words of encouragement washed over him, the cold, bitter truth settled in like a weight on Spider-Man's chest. She was gone. And no matter how hard they searched, no matter how many leads they followed, the ache in his heart made it feel as if he had already lost her forever.

Tears, hot and unchecked, welled up behind Spider-Man's mask. The sorrow, the guilt, the anger—it all broke free, flooding his thoughts. He had failed her. He had failed to protect the one person he cared about more than anything. His sobs wracked his body, and for the first time in so long, Spider-Man let himself feel the full force of his grief, the weight of the loss so profound it threatened to crush him.

The room stood still, save for the muffled sound of Spider-Man's sobs. Power Man and Iron Fist shared a look, their expressions mirroring the pain in Spider-Man's heart. They had seen heroes fall before, but this was different. This was personal. And they knew that the loss of Y/N was a wound that Spider-Man could never simply heal from.

Through his tears, Spider-Man whispered, almost to himself, "I'll find her. I won't stop until I do."

His voice was raw, but beneath the grief and the sorrow, there was a fire burning, a determination that couldn't be extinguished. Y/N had been his light in a world that was often dark and unforgiving. He wouldn't let her be lost to it. Not without a fight.

Power Man and Iron Fist gave him a firm nod. They understood. They would help him find her, no matter the cost. They were heroes, but they were also friends—and they would stand by him through the darkest days, just as he had always stood by them.

The room was heavy with the weight of their shared commitment, the resolve that came not from the words spoken, but from the unspoken promise they made in that moment. They wouldn't rest until Y/N was safe. And Spider-Man, though broken and grieving, would lead the charge.

As the tears finally slowed, Spider-Man wiped his face and steeled himself. His heart ached, but his will to find her burned brighter than ever. They would search every corner of the city, confront every danger, and leave no stone unturned. He would bring her back. No matter what it took.

The hunt had only just begun.

SCENEBREAK

The weight of his loss pressed down on Peter with an intensity that seemed to warp time itself. Every step, every movement felt heavy, as if the very act of walking back into his apartment was a moment suspended in a dream he couldn't escape. The hum of the city outside seemed distant, muffled by the turmoil swirling in his chest. Yet, in the midst of his grief and confusion, there was one thing that grounded him—home.

The door creaked open, and the familiar scent of Aunt May's cooking, the comforting hum of her presence, filled the air. She was sitting in the living room, her silhouette framed by the soft light of the setting sun. It didn't take much for her to sense his arrival; she always knew when something was wrong.

Her eyes met his, and the world seemed to slow down for a heartbeat. She saw it in his eyes—the exhaustion, the torment, the weight of a grief he wasn't yet ready to voice. The anguish that ran deeper than any physical wound, one that was impossible to bandage or heal with time alone. And in that moment, Aunt May's understanding cut through the silence like a beacon.

"Peter," she whispered softly, rising from the couch with a gentle urgency.

Before he knew it, her arms were around him, warm and steady, offering the kind of solace only a mother could provide. The floodgates opened as Peter's stoic façade crumbled. The tears he had been holding back, the raw emotion he had locked away, finally poured forth. His body trembled in her embrace, as if his very soul were seeking refuge in her comfort.

"I'm here, darling. I'm here," Aunt May murmured, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos in his heart.

Her touch was tender—her hands gently brushing his back, stroking his hair, holding him as if he were still her little boy in need of protection. There were no words she needed to say, for in that moment, she knew exactly what Peter was feeling. The heartache was palpable, but so too was her undying support.

Peter let the tears flow freely, his body shaking with the weight of it all. The burden of being Spider-Man, of always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, had always been a constant. But now, it wasn't just the city he had failed—it was her. Y/N. The woman who had been his anchor, the light in his darkness. The thought of her, lost, lingering out there somewhere, consumed him.

But eventually, the sobs quieted, leaving Peter with only the jagged remnants of his sorrow. He drew in a shaky breath, pulling away from Aunt May's comforting arms. The fire of resolve sparked within him once more, replacing the hollow ache in his chest with something fierce, something unyielding.

"I'm going to find her, Aunt May," he declared, his voice hoarse but filled with a determination that burned through the haze of grief. "I'm going to bring her back. I promise you that."

Aunt May smiled gently, her eyes filled with a quiet, knowing pride. She brushed away a lone tear that had escaped her, her touch as tender as ever. "I have no doubt that you will, Peter," she said softly, her voice imbued with the kind of quiet strength only a mother could possess. "You are stronger than you know, and you have the heart of a true hero."

Her words wrapped around him like a shield, a reminder that, despite the odds, he wasn't alone. Her belief in him, her unwavering faith, bolstered his resolve. He wasn't just doing this for Y/N. He was doing it for himself, for Aunt May, and for the city that had always needed him. But most of all, he was doing it for the woman who had been stolen from his life too soon.

With a final, determined glance at his aunt, Peter straightened his back, wiping the remnants of his tears away. The road ahead would be long, uncertain, and fraught with danger. But he knew one thing: he wouldn't rest until Y/N was safely back where she belonged. His promise to her, to himself, and to Aunt May echoed in his heart like a battle cry.

The weight of the world was still there, but now, with the support of the people he loved, Peter Parker was ready to face whatever lay ahead. He would find Y/N. And nothing, not even the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole, could stop him from bringing her home.