Never Owed a Happy Ending

“Where’s my goddamn kid, Strange?”

It was a sunny day in the city. Things weren’t perfect, far from it, but as far as days in New York go, it was pretty good. The sun beat down on glass skyscrapers, brick apartments, traffic-laden streets, and construction. Always construction, and lots of it. New York may be the city that never sleeps, but it’s also the city that's never finished if the construction crews have anything to say about it. And today construction was focused most prominently around the statue of liberty. 

It was already under construction when the fight had begun, and between the pounds of sand, craters left from explosive blasts, and the absence of any bodies, no one was quite sure what had happened. People had seen Spider-Man fighting there with a group of villains they had never seen before. Some people even swear there were multiple Spider-Men (spidermen? Does the hyphen still apply?). And then there was a series of bright flashes and sounds like cracking glass. Everything was gone, the Spider-Men, the villains, all that was left was the damage from their fight.

That was two weeks ago, and still nothing had turned up. No one had seen Spider-Man since then.

That was 14 days of absence. 

For the first three Tony figured that the fight had just led into some sort of investigation. The kid was good at detective work when he had to be, and it wouldn’t be the first time he had gone no-contact in the midst of an investigation, no matter how hard Tony and Pepper tried to make him break the habit. So that left 11 days.

For the next five Tony did his own investigating into what happened at the statue of liberty, sending drones to investigate. Running every possible CCTV, phone camera, and even satellite feed he could find. He even did a chemical analysis on the damn sand. So that left 6 days.

For the next two Tony was forced to rest by Pepper and his doctor. He managed to still do some follow up investigation from his phone. So that left 4 days.

For the next four days, Tony didn’t sleep. Fueled by something between anger and fear he spent four days getting every testimonial he could from every single New Yorker who had even pretended to see what had happened. He had sent the drones back for a second sweep of the statue. He rescanned the sand. He even did some ad-hoc studying of magic, tried to figure out teleportation, anything that could explain the disappearance of the kid. His kid. 

So that left 0 days since Peter had disappeared. And that left us here. With Tony knowing that it involved Dr. Strange to some extent. That was a thread, and he’d pull and pull and pull until it either broke or brought Peter back with it.

In front of Dr. Stephen Strange hovered one of the older Iron Man suits. His palm raised and practically fizzling with energy, pointed straight at Strange’s chest. The voice that came out was slightly tinny, not only modulated but echoing slightly from the metal it escaped. 

“Where’s my goddamn kid, Strange?”

“I’m not playing these games, Stark. I’m working on it as much as you are.”

“I’m not playing a game at all. So tell me right now. Where. Is. My. Kid?”

“If I knew I’d tell you. I’m not all-knowing.”

“You lost him?”

“And I’m doing everything I can to find him. If you’d like to help, maybe do something using that lab you’re sitting in rather than sending some hollow suit to come chastise me.”

The suit laughed, a mechanical twist to what was already a hollow laugh. There was no mirth in it, no joy, only sad, dry irony.

“You know–” the suit lowered to the ground, palm still stretched towards Strange. “–Peter said something like that to me once.”

The suit hissed as the front began to open, plate sliding behind plate, pistons retracting, wires bending, all while the palm remained out, humming with energy. And out stepped- no, stumbled- Tony Stark. Disheveled, worryingly thin, and angry. HIs whole right side was burned almost to black, harsh red spreading from where the charred flesh stopped. HIs skin looked raw and fragile. His right arm looked near-skeletal. The burns and scars stretched all the way up towards his neck, and just barely onto his face where his right eye was still mostly red, blood seeped into it. 

And amidst the damage were still glowing paths of light, tracing like lighting on his skin and under it. They shifted and glowed and sizzled within him, still burning him from the inside out even now, a little over a year since they defeated Thanos. 

Though his eyes were locked to Strange’s, he began to stumble as if about to fall, and ended up leaning against the arm of the suit (It was why he brought it after all, needed one that could stand on its own and the nanotech only had two modes: Being worn or being compacted).

“Jesus Tony, you should be in the hospital!”

“I was, couldn’t just sit by and wait.” It was then clear why the voice coming from the suit was more tinny than normal. Without it his voice was weak and hoarse, sounding more like labored breathing than actual speech. “Not when my kid is missing.”

For a moment even Strange looked… well maybe not impressed, but definitely moved by the sheer drive on display. With a disapproving glare he opened a portal next to them both, leading back to the high tech lab that Tony had been resting in. He had, after a certain point, convinced his doctors to at least move his medical necessities here so he could work some while he was being treated.

Supporting Tony with his arm he slowly walked them towards the portal as he spoke.

“That thing able to get itself home?”

“Yeah. yeah…” Tony took a breath, mustering up the effort to raise his voice enough to cough out a command. “Friday? Send ‘er home.”

“Yes Sir.” Came the reply, the suit closing before its arm lowered and it blasted off, flying back out the door it had slammed open and off into the skyline.

“Lovely. Now, start taking care of yourself and maybe you’ll live long enough to see Peter come back.” There was sarcasm in it, but also a hint of sincerity. Strange was not one to show his compassion often, but it was there. And even for someone like Stark, there was a kinship forged in battle that was hard to quell. He set him back in his hospital bed before turning around to close the portal.

“All this tech around you and you didn’t think to use it to find him?”

“I’ve tried, Stephen, and I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“Well yes, I might have expected that. But you tried without the knowledge I’m about to give you.”

For a moment all anger was gone, replaced by a glimmer of hope in Tony’s eye.

“You know where he is?”

“Not precisely, but I know how to find him, and it’d go a lot faster with your help.”

–––––

The morning was cool but not cold. Cloudy but not dark. Everything was covered in a haze of grey. As he looked around the abandoned offices Peter didn’t feel like getting up. HIs head was still full of that dreamy fog you get when you wake up too early, and in it was a lot of information he couldn’t quite access. Instead he turned his thoughts towards what had happened the night before.

Shortly after his escape from Batman he had swung his way back to the League turning in the deck of cards he had stolen but hiding the grappling gun from Talia. She had seemed strangely impressed, as if she didn’t expect him to come back. After the congratulations and official acceptance into the league though she had gotten a call on one of the screens in the room down the hall, and from what Peter heard it was someone incredibly angry and whose voice was strangely familiar. He was far too tired to sleuth out any more than that as he left, making his way back across the city once more to his hideout and promptly passing out on his makeshift bed. 

And now it was the morning. The dreaded morning. Well, more like the dreaded day. See, Peter had figured out his nightlife now, go “work” for the league and when possible leak their plans to the vigilantes, while trying not to end up on everyone's shit list in the process. But his day life? What he was doing when he was Peter Parker and not Richard Grayson? Well to be frank, he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing.

Money might be a good start, and not the kind of money he had to leech off a billionaire, but proper, real money. But for that he was gonna need a job, preferably somewhere that wouldn't much mind his experiences, perhaps even somewhere he already had at least a little bit of an in…

–––––

The library was as quiet as ever. Ominous stone pillars somehow managing to hold the roof up for yet another day as he walked into the building. Barbara was once again sitting at the receptionist counter, slashing him a smile as he approached.

“Hey there Peter! What can I do for you?”

“Every time I come in it’s always you at the counter, does the library not have any other receptionists?” Peter chuckled, but it was only a  half joke.

“Not really, used to have one but they ended up getting a better offer elsewhere and well, most Gothamite’s aren’t the type to volunteer their efforts to the library, even if we paid them.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not a Gothamite then!”

“Oh? Looking for an after-school job?”

Peter tried to hide a grimace as he replied.

“Well, more like full-time if you’re willing?”

“And how exactly will you make that work between classes and homework?” There was a slight lilt to her voice that let Peter know it was a leading question. Not wanting to drag this out any longer than it absolutely had to take Peter sighed.

“Well the thing about that is I don’t really go to school…”

“Uh huh. That's what I thought. Alright Pete, tell you what, I’ll let you work here –part-time mind you– on the condition you get yourself in school. What year are you even supposed to be, junior?”

“Sophomore actually… Alright, fine, I’ll try. But I don’t exactly have a way to apply or uh… well suffice to say I might be missing a lot of the information they’ll want me to have…”

Barbara just smiled at that, tapping away on her computer before just staring at him, clearly listening for something behind her.

“What, pray tell, are we waiting for? “ Then he heard the tell-tale screech of a printer behind her and rolled his eyes. With that same smile plastered on her face Barbara spun her chair around, rolling over to the printer and then back to the counter, with an application form for “Gotham Prep” in her hand.

Peter took one look at it before raising his eyebrow.

“I think you severely overestimate my financial situation…”

“Humour me.”

Handing the application over she pulled a pen out of a cup on the table and handed it over too.

“Fill in as much as you can, I’ll do the rest.”

“What do you mean do the rest?”

“I mean, I have connections like you wouldn’t believe. So show me you’re actually gonna fill it out, and I can cover for some of the stuff you can’t fill out. Stuff like your address, for instance.”

She gave a knowing look to him, and for a moment he waited for his spider sense to ping because certainly that was in some way a threat, but nothing happened.

Almost more unnerved by that fact he gingerly took the pen and paper, finding a seat on the opposite wall and beginning to fill out the paper.

–––––

Applicant’s Name: Peter Parker

Address:

Well that was already a problem.

“What do you want me to put for the address?”

“Just leave it blank for now.”

“If you say so…”

Address:

Phone Number:

Well that was another one he couldn’t answer. This was gonna take a while.

–––––

About thirty minutes later he returned to the desk, sliding over a mostly empty application. One that made even Barbara’s eyes widen a bit. She took it regardless, nodding to him.

“Well, a deal is a deal. Come back around this same time tomorrow and I’ll have the rest of this sorted out as best I can. Then I’ll get you all sorted with a job here. Keep in mind that the entry exams are all yours though, I can’t help on that front. So study while you can.”

“Right, I’ll get right on it then. Already at the library after all…