The Butterfly Effect: a Peter Parker Fan Fic

Prologue

A father is neither an anchor to hold us back nor a sail to take us there but a guiding light whose love shows us the way. ~ anonymous

"Hey, kiddo. Can we talk?"

I look up from the book I'm reading to see my father standing in front of me, his hands in the pockets of his lab coats.

He looks older than the last time I saw him. Worry lines cover his face, disguising his once youthful complexion. His hair is a dark shade of brown, but gray streaks are visible through it. His posture is very hunched, not at all like the tall, military-like man I once knew.

The divorce was clearly hard on him.

"There's nothing to talk about," I mumble.

And evidently, it was hard on me too.

He sighs and collapses onto the seat next to me, "I know it's been hard, okay? I know because I've been through it myself. But it's about time your mom remarries and I should probably think about it too."

I love my dad. I love my dad so much. I love him more than I love my mother. I look up to him more than I look up to anyone else.

"There's something else we need to talk about," he sighs worriedly.

I look at him, my heart falling, "what's wrong?"

He bites his lip and stares down at the ground. My heart pounds against my chest.

"Dad?"

"My... my cancer is back," he mumbles.

No.

Not again.

His cancer was so close to taking him away last time. Not again. It can't be back! A silent tear slides down my cheek.

"What are you going to do? Do you need chemo, do you need—"

"I need chemotherapy but..." he sighs, "unless I sell the lab, I can't afford it."

He's not going to get treatment?! But he has to! He might di— I don't even want to consider the option.

But on the other hand, his life's work will disappear and go to someone else. They might tear down the butterfly room and ruin the whole atmosphere. But this is my dad's life I'm talking about...

"I want to go to the butterfly room," I blurt. I just want to go in there and get distracted and let my thoughts free with the butterflies.

He smiles despite the tears welling up in his eyes, "do you know why we named you Mariposa?"

Yes, my name is Mariposa. But ever since I was little, I've been known for my raven-black hair and the nickname Raven just stuck. I like it and prefer it over Mariposa. Mariposa is a pretty name, but it seems too girly and fancy for me. I am a grunge-chick and it hardly suits. Only two people can call me by my first name, one of them being dad.

I sniffle, "why?"

"Because the butterfly room is my favorite room too. Mariposa means butterfly in Spanish," he smiles warmly.

I exhale, a hint of laughter in my shaky breath.

He nods towards the hallway leading to the room, "go ahead."

I stand up and plant a kiss on his cheek, "Dad, I love you. You're strong. You'll make it."

"I love you too, Mariposa," he beams sadly.

I walk down the halls of the lab and gradually pick up my pace.

Yes, it's a lab. My father owns his own laboratory based on a variety of species of insects and bugs. I don't know what got him so interested in it, but he just is. He built this place from the ground up after Tony Stark and him... well, had their history.

My dad is Tony Stark's younger brother. Before his cancer came last time, he was so amazed by insects and all. After his cancer went away, he saw an opportunity to make his dream a reality. Dad became obsessed with opening this lab and unintentionally left my mother and I out in the cold. So what did my mother do?

She had an affair with Tony.

He's the reason why my parents are divorced. He's the reason we went into debt. He's the reason why my family can't be whole.

I smile gleefully as I shove open the door to the butterfly room. The atmosphere is warm and sticky but it's beautiful. The different sizes, colors and shapes of all these butterflies, yet they're all one. I can't wipe the grin off of my face as I stare in awe at the room. I'd been in it so many times this past Summer break, yet it can't seem to astound me every time I step in.

"Hey Raven," a voice says.

I snap out of my daze and turn my head to the right. It's Rory, the butterfly room keeper. Her blonde hair flows in waves behind her as she finishes planting a different plant. She's about dad's age but looks ten years younger than him. She is beautiful.

"Oh, hey Rory," I smile.

She wipes her hands on her pants and walks over to me, "back here again?"

I giggle a little, "yeah. I don't want to go back to Queens. I just want to live here."

"You can always come work here after you finish school," she tells me, "your school is a good school. Be grateful."

I shrug, "I suppose. I just wish dad was with me."

"He's here, he's happy and when you're done, he can be with you," she says reassuringly.

I cock my head, "I suppose you're right."

She responds with a small smile. She treads over to the door carefully, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I don't want to go back to mom and Phil. There is so much tension and awkwardness in that house, it's impossible to even breathe. The butterfly room is so stuffy, yet I can breathe easier in here. A butterfly lands on my finger and I admire the patterns on its wings.

A strange, unfamiliar scent wafts through the air. My forehead creases and I look towards the window to the control panel. There's no one in there. I sniff, trying to get an idea of what the smell exactly is.

It smells like...

Chemicals?

I start to feel woozy and the ground around me begins to swirl.

"Mariposa, get out of there!" I hear a voice shout.

I take a few steps towards the door and stumble. I hold onto the wall for support and take deep breaths, feeling my lungs empty.

"I'm going in!"

"No, you can't!"

"It's my daughter in there!"

"It's too dangerous."

The two voices continue to have an argument, but everything goes black before I can make out what they're saying.