Something they Can't Take Away
“I'm going to jail for this.” Ned bit the inside of his cheek as he continued typing. Gaining access to Tony Stark’s security had grown into a four-day affair. Working only with the backdoors he had gained several years ago helping Peter, he had only bits and pieces of how Tony’s system might work- and that didn’t even come with an entrance point. “I am so going to jail for this.”
“New York jail systems are full right now, dealing with double inmate populations.” MJ said, flipping between a newspaper. The cover story had Peter’s yearbook photo on it. The Peter from five years ago stared Ned down, compelling him to keep working. “You’ll be fine.”
“Tony Stark is going to kill me.”
“No one has seen Tony Stark. He might as well be dead.” MJ threw back. She sighed, setting the paper down. “There’s nothing in this one either.”
Ned glanced up from over the screen of his laptop. He had been increasingly wary of MJ’s theory that Peter was trying to communicate through the news outlets via encoded messages. But with school out, her dad still MIA, and Stark’s security being a one-man job given her experience, he didn’t want to get in the way of her productivity, as futile as it may be.
“Tony Stark is too stubborn to die.” Ned murmured. “Other than Iron Man, it's like his brand to almost die then not.”
MJ snorted. “Are you getting anywhere?”
“Take a wild guess.” Ned said. “Turns out hacking the second most advanced security system in the world is hard. If only I had a way to pinpoint where he is.”
Ned continued typing, waiting for MJ to fire back with some cheeky comment. But he was met with silence. After a few tense moments, he glanced up to see MJ rimrod on the couch, clutching a newspaper.
“What is it?” Ned asked slowly. MJ turned the newspaper around to face Ned, face both equally excited and pale.
In large print, the Bugle proclaimed F.E.A.S.T. TO STILL HONOR LATE FOUNDER MAY PARKER AMID SPIDER-MAN SCANDAL.
Now, the wheels in Ned’s brain began to move very, very, quickly. Because Feast was a non-profit co-founded with the Starks, the odds of the organization operating to some degree off of Tony Stark’s servers was very high. If not, then they would be run off of similarly designed servers, given that Tony would want to be involved in his wife’s philanthropy work with May Parker. Feast had an official headquarters not far from Queens, which had entertaining spaces for galas and charity events. If he and MJ could get into this event, he could potentially get access to their servers, which, if not completely showing him how to think like Tony, could at least give him the faintest clue at how to approach the firewalls.
All they needed was a way in, and after skimming the Bugle article he was surprised to see that Feast was outsourcing security rather than having Happy Hogan organize it under SI. He was surprised because suddenly obtaining the guest list became much easier. Hacking Tony Stark? Impossible. Hacking Bishop security? Give Ned forty-eight hours and a diet Pepsi.
“Nana?” Ned called out. “Do you have any dresses MJ could borrow?”
“I have an old one from my disco days!” Nana Leeds called from upstairs. “Why?”
He looked at MJ, and the glint in her eye betrayed that she was having very similar thoughts
.—
[AVENGERS TOWER: CAMERA 18A]
SECURITY STATUS: Ruby / Construction Zone
Backlog: FRIDAY
Notify [BOSSMAN]: Yes / [NO]
5/22/2023 8:13 PM ET, Motion Detected, Recording START 20:13:12
[ –FILE.18892– ]
Transcript:
[FACIAL RECOGNITION 20:13:12 : DR. STEPEHEN STRANGE]
[FACIAL RECOGNITION 20:22:59 : WANDA MAXIMOFF]
[Strange]: You’re late.
[Strange]: There’s no need for that.
[Maximoff]: Were you waiting here for me?
[Strange]: I was waiting for the possibility of you, but sure, let’s go with layman’s terms. You aren’t supposed to be here.
[Maximoff]: I don’t have access to Stark’s actual floors anymore, but his construction floors are painfully underregulated.
[Strange]: Makes sense, you’re a smart woman.
[Maximoff]: Don’t patronize me. You don’t even know me.
[Strange]: I know more than you think.
[Maximoff]: Is that the time stone?
[Strange]: What if it is?
[Maximoff]: (indistinguishable)
[Strange]: Let me repeat myself, you aren’t supposed to be here.
[Maximoff]: Where am I supposed to be, then?
[Strange]: Preferably, dragging the Vision’s corpse out of S.W.O.R.D. so that you can double-cross me in three months and break reality. But instead, Stark’s still around to fix the android. That’s the report you never filed, isn’t it?
[Maximoff]: What if it is?
[Strange]: Then I’ll advise you this: bringing that folder here will only ensure that Stark burns it. He cares more about that kid than anything else, especially his band-aid over Ultron.
[Maximoff]: He’s a person. Don’t call him that.
[Strange]: I’m simply being blunt with you, Wanda. After the kid killed Thanos, I spent lifetimes running the numbers, watching billions of potential futures. You don’t get what you want if you give that folder to Stark.
[Maximoff]: You were supposed to give that stone back to Rogers.
[Strange]: I know how you can save your fiance, Wanda. That’s what he was, right? Proposed in France while you were on the run.
[Maximoff]: Do the others know you have the time stone?
[Strange]: What does it matter when for the greater good?
[Maximoff]: So you break the rules and become the hero, and I break them and become the villain. That doesn’t seem fair now, does it?
[Strange]: I don’t give a shit about what’s fair, Wanda, I give a shit about keeping this reality stable. Do you want to save Vision or not?
[Wanda]: First you want me to wreck it, now you want me to save it. What do you truly want, Strange?
[Strange]: What if I put it this way: Do you want to save Vision and not become the villain? That’s the chance that you get right now.
[Wanda]: …
[Wanda]: What am I meant to do with the folder, then?
—-
It's safe to say that everything following this point proceeded to be a shit show, or more than it had been before. And of all things, it began with Danvers.
Maybe it would have been fine if Carol’s records had never been made public in the SHIELD information dump. Then there wouldn’t have been the social campaign to declassify other accident reports to close missing persons cases like Carol’s, and nobody would have batted an eye when she reappeared in the atmosphere like nothing was wrong.
Well, relatively so.
But following the SHIELD data dump, Carol’s untimely demise was a hot topic in the news circles, especially news circles pointing a critical aim against SHIELD and the Avengers. For the most part, it was minorly productive, bringing some ten to twenty families closure on what happened to their loved ones. But more than one hundred agents have laid their life down since SHIELD’s conception, and some secrets are better off buried.
Carol didn’t, though. While her story was running circles in the media, she was running circles around galaxies, creating a quite long resume and a glowing reputation. Following the battle at the Avengers compound, she went with Rhodey to the DC to debrief the President on what had happened- on who had happened. She was the best for the job. Her skills in delegation had done wonders in the past, and a level, but realistic, mind was necessary in the first days following Thanos. Unfortunately, when it comes to politics, a level and realistic mind was not appreciated.
Most of all, she fought with SHIELD to keep Peter’s name censored. He was barely breathing, he didn’t need to live with the weight of his actions, even if they were positive. But recent regulation had made victim transparency almost mandated within SHIELD. Due to Tony registering Spider-Man as an Avenger post-mortem, they had no choice. As soon as their memo was approved by Homeland Security, every person with access to the internet knew Peter Parker was responsible for their safety.
The reaction was instantaneous. For those who believed Thanos was right, there were circles of the internet blatantly leveling violence against Peter, against any far removed relatives they could find, against anything he stood for. For everyone else… an outpouring of support. Memorials sprung up globally, and mass pilgrimage was occurring to Queens to lay down flowers, pictures, or stuffed animals in the streets. His school was a tourist attraction, his apartment was posted online for millions and gawked at in person in thousands.
The pushback for SHIELD to disclose more on his condition was mounting, with large support in both the House and Congress. To some Peter was a martyr, dying so that they could be free. For others, his entanglement with the Avengers was a blatant abuse of power and manipulation by Tony. Foreign governments were clamoring with ambassadors to meet with Peter. On every brick wall in Queens there was some type of memorial drawn up, either in spray paint or chalk, commemorating the spider insignia. Spider-Man wasn’t just a symbol of hope in New York- he was global, now. Within a week his guardianship under Tony was made public, and every major and minor news outlet had two pieces to say on it.
As soon as Tony had returned to the medical ward, Dr. Cho sat him down and told him this, which, unfortunately, was not at all surpsing. Not even four hours had passed from when the news broke had Tony been called by Nick Fury- of all people- offering to take Peter’s custody for the so-called greater good. That was the easiest and fastest “hell no” Tony had ever uttered, and that was before Nick had disclosed he was currently off-planet. Sorry, but Peter was grounded from space. Forever didn’t seem like long enough of a sentence.
“I’m only telling you because its grounds to reopen the legality of your guardianship.” Dr. Cho said. “I’m not a lawyer, and I don’t pretend to be one. But there aren’t many cases involving a deceased minor coming back to life. Especially as high profile as Peter is now.”
“You think they’ll challenge the guardianship?” Tony asked. “May facilitated it.”
“May Parker isn’t so lauded in the press either. If she were here now she could easily be charged with child endangerment.” Dr. Cho sat down and looked at Tony. “If you lose custody, the state revokes your right to be involved in Peter’s care. I won’t be able to treat him.”
Tony nodded. The wheels were already turning in his mind. He stared ahead at the wall in front of him, acutely aware of the medical staff preparing another MRI. A reality without Peter nearby wasn’t one he was going to accept. May had trusted him, he had to make good on that.
“I guess I’ll need a really good lawyer.” He murmured.
This was how Tony Stark met Matt Murdock.
—
All MJ could think about as she stared down her dead-faced reflection in the mirror is that right now she’s supposed to be twenty-two, and at this point in her life she should be in some decaying Berkley dorm instead of wearing a disco-tiled gown that left less to the imagination than one of those social experiment bathrooms where the walls are glass. She took a deep breath and clipped in Ned’s Nana’s old earrings before daring another glance at the mirror. Now she felt like a poorly constructed Wednesday Addams Barbie doll.
“Are you ready? The Uber says he’s going to be here in five minutes, but Nana told me we should be by the curb when he’s three minutes out since most people just blow by the stop signs by 11th street.” Ned peeked his head into what had once been the guest bedroom, before MJ’s stay upgraded from a couch-surfing level of emergency to something that his Nana had deemed was personal-room worthy. His rambling made MJ smile; at least black-tie Ned was still Ned. Meanwhile she felt like a poor caricature of herself remembered from another life.
She could be twenty-two right now, in Berkley, skyping Ned and Peter instead of attending his Aunt’s memorial dinner in an attempt to get dirt on his whereabouts. She instinctively patted her side, where tucked into the waistband of her spandex was a USB port- Ned had an identical one, meant to generate copies of Feast’s software so that Ned could dissect it back at the apartment.
“I’m right.” Ned’s Nana appeared in the doorway as well. “No matter how many times I phone the police, they don’t do anything about it! One of these days someone is going to get hit…”
She shook her head before taking in MJ.
“Oh sinta, aren’t you a sight.” She said softly. “Now I wish you and Ned had gotten a proper prom.”
Ned’s face went bright red and he grabbed MJ by the arm. “Ok, it's curb time. Thanks for lending her the dress, Nana!”
She followed them as they descended the stairs, lingering at the landing when she said, “Ned, wait.”
Her usual lack of pet-names or embarrassing nicknames caused Ned to turn faster than he meant to; even in their most serious conversations, she tended to lessen the blow more often than not.
“You’re a smart boy, Ned, who comes from a smart mother, who comes from an even smarter mother.” She said, “Don’t pretend that I don’t know what this is really for.”
Ned didn’t say anything. Up until this moment, he hadn’t really thought that she had gone on his computer during the Blip. But just like Peter and May, it was really Ned and Nana Leeds. It had been a long five years. He knew his Nana, she had missed him, and searched for a way to be close to him. With a guilty conscience, he wondered if learning about Peter’s identity and Ned’s involvement made her worry more; and now more than ever did he understand Peter’s desire to keep himself as separate as possible from the mask.
Then Nana Leeds pulled out a gun, and suddenly Ned wondered if he actually did know his Nana. She held it out toward him.
“Holy shit Mrs. Leeds.” MJ breathed out. She took it from her hands while Ned just looked on. “Is it-”
“Loaded? Yes.” She stepped forward and put both her hands on Ned’s shoulders. “Peter is a good boy. You always have known I’ve thought the world of him. But he had also always attracted a lot of trouble.”
“Nana-”
“I’m not going to lose you again because of those superheroes.” She said, taking her left hand and putting it on MJ’s right shoulder. “Protect each other. Find what you need to know. Come home before 10.”
Distantly, Ned heard his phone ding, signifying that the Uber was there. While MJ concealed the gun in her purse, he threw his arms around Nana Leeds and held her close.
“I promise.”
—
Betty had been staring at the brown parcel for fifteen minutes before she decided to do anything about it. As far as she knew, it could be a bomb. A rectangular-shaped, flexible-like-paper bomb, wired to explode the second she untied the string and peeled back the crisp brown paper.
Even worse, it could be a metaphorical bomb. Dirt on Harry and all the backs he had to stab to pull OSCORP out of the grave. Or it could anything, ranging from a blurry photo to an old Decathlon meet that could tie her to Peter Parker. It could be ruinous, it could be a warning.
It could be from Ned. Wasn’t he a computer geek in high school? He could have hacked her personal computer as payback for the book. She wouldn’t blame him. Or maybe it was one of the snotty interns at The Bugle, none of them could stand her near-overnight ascent to the top of the ladder. They could have found out her million-dollar salary was bankrolling OSCORP’s return from the dead. Then both Betty and Harry would be ruined.
Betty reheated the casserole she froze several weeks ago, watching the brown parcel in the corner of her eye as if it would make a run for it while she had her back turned. Forty-five seconds passed quickly, and now she was stabbing mushy cucumber with precise frustration as she stared down the package from the far end of the kitchen.
Goddammit. This was stupid. She had the Feast dinner for May Parker in a little under an hour, and she had promised Harry he could attend as her plus one. That clusterfuck waiting to happen was a story she couldn’t miss, not for the world. It would be Pepper Pott’s first public appearance since before April 27th. She should drop the parcel in the garbage and pull out the red silk nightmare that her stylist prepared for her and grab the next Blip story before some bright-eyed and bushy tailed intern could take it out from under her. She was Betty Fucking Brandt for crying out loud.
The parcel sat on the table unfazed by her frustration, almost as if taunting her.
She set the bowl aside and covered the length of the kitchen in long strides before ripping into the paper. The corner of a manila folder was exposed and she moved with frenzy, pulling off the string rather than typing it and emptying its contents on the table. Pages poured out almost in a waterfall, washing the dark mahogany table that Betty originally rolled her eyes at in white. Distantly, she could hear her phone buzzing from somewhere in the apartment, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. This was bigger than a missed phone call, bigger than Feast, bigger than Harry, and his ego, and Betty’s guilty conscience.
The script was written in pencil, quickly as if in a hurry. Betty smiled. For the second time in her life she was staring down a gold mine. The only issue is that a fourth of it was written in Sokovian.
—
Pepper fastened a silver bracelet around her wrist and desperately hoped that she looked a semblance of her media self. Typically, it were the stylists that Tony brought on that handled appearances for these types of events. But ever since Morgan, it felt wrong to don the artificial personalities. It was the way Tony was raised and he absolutely abhorred it; his final straw in the inevitable dismissal of appearances suite was when some dull-witted intern proposed an eye-shadow look for when Pepper delivered Morgan.
Ever since then, Pepper and Tony controlled their own professional looks, and oh how Pepper truly regretted that decision. She could just imagine the effect the tremor of her hands had on hair, and given that S.H.I.E.L.D. had leaked Tony’ guardianship, she could only imagine the media magnifying glass that would be leveled on her tonight. No, tonight she couldn’t be Pepper Potts, she had to be Virginia Stark. Billionaire, CEO, philanthropist, mother.
“May wouldn’t have given two shits if you went tonight or not.” Happy said from the doorframe, leaning slightly into the wood. Starting around three feet were colorful indentions to mark Morgan’s age. There was a single blue tally at 5’5” that Tony drew in for Peter years ago.
“I know.” Pepper conceded, turning around. “This isn’t… she’d laugh at the way we’re doing this, actually. But we both know that this isn’t about May.”
“Let me rephrase, Pepper. You’re running yourself into the ground. Stay home.” Happy stepped forward to gently hold Pepper’s arm; after a moment, she realized he had moved to still her trembling hands. “I’ve known Tony long enough to know what PTSD looks like.”
Pepper looked long and hard at her hands. Sometimes, in the mornings, she would wake up still thinking they were covered in ash right now. Although they were clean, painfully clean, she swore she could feel the grit of the particles between her nails and fingers. “We’re all playing our parts to protect Peter right now. You aren’t telling Tony to come home from the Tower more often now, are you?”
“That’s because I know there’s a chance you’ll actually listen to me.” Happy said, earning a smile from Pepper. His voice became soft. “If Tony knew how much you were struggling, he wouldn’t want you to go tonight.”
“I’ll tell Tony about the flashbacks after Peter wakes up.” Pepper said. “That’s what I promised you, nothing more.”
Happy hummed in disagreement and dropped his hand from Pepper. “You’re going to call us the second you want to leave, alright?”
“Not a second later, Happy.”
“Good.” Happy looked away from Pepper suddenly, as if trying to blink away the emotional vulnerability that permeated the air. “Morgan’s excited for her dad to be home tonight.”
Pepper smiled. “I bet she is.”
“Do you know when that will be permanent?” Happy asked, a bit too pointedly. Pepper stared at him.
“Not subtle enough?”
“I’m afraid not, Happy.” She conceded. She turned back to the mirror to regard herself. “Tony said that after the next round of MRI’s, he’s going to ask Dr. Cho about moving his care to the lakehouse. He doesn’t like us being spread so thin, and he’s convinced that the DA will hit us for a case on Peter’s custody.”
“Do you think he will?”
“Well, outings like tonight can provide ample fodder for why Peter’s best with us.” Pepper said. “What I say, what I don’t say… that all adds up to the public’s narrative of the last couple weeks. If I play my cards right, I’ll have the country convinced that taking Peter from us would be nothing short of cruel.”
“Which it is.” Happy affirmed. She nodded absentmindedly.
Even from the master bathroom, both she and Happy could hear the tell-tale sound of the front door swinging open and Tony stepping inside.
“We’re in the back!” She called out, and she looked anywhere but Happy’s pleading eyes as footsteps drew closer.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Stark.” Tony said with a smile as he walked into the bathroom. He drew Pepper into a kiss, then wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Like a puppet’s strings being cut, Happy could watch his tense shoulders drop.
“What am I, chopped liver?” Happy chided.
“You want a kiss, too, Harold? Should have locked it down before I finally got Pepper to say yes to the crazy train.” Tony shrugged. “You snooze, you lose. Where’s Morguna?”
“Asleep.” Pepper said. “Lucky you, you get the easy shift.”
“No, no, no, I told you. You’re getting a full house clean courtesy of the Tony Stark. When you get back it will be a totally new cabin, scout’s honor.”
“Were you even a boy Scout?” Pepper tilted her head.
“I’ve never seen you scrub a sink, let alone use a vacuum, Tony.” Happy said. “Let’s be honest, you’ll guilt me into helping you.”
“Oh, shush. Make me look good in front of my wife.” Tony said, then turned to smile at Pepper. In moments like these, it was easy to pretend things were normal, that things were good. But then the lights turn off and no matter how hard Pepper tries to bury the memory, she’s still there.
Standing on the ashes of the Compound.
Watching as Peter took up the Gauntlet.
And hating herself for not even trying to stop it.
—
MJ and Ned spent the entire Uber ride in silence, with MJ’s purse sitting in the middle seat like a divider. As she fiddled with the shoulder strap, it felt colder than usual. She suddenly felt childish for her reaction in the mirror. This suddenly felt bigger than either of them.
“It’s going to be fine.” Ned said, not taking his eyes from the window. “We’ll do what we need to do and we’ll leave.”
“Yeah.” MJ echoed. She smiled to herself before adding, “Do you think Flash will be there?”
“God I hope not.” Ned groaned, and suddenly the somber air dissipated. “Did you see he claimed to be one of Peter’s ‘besties’? He’s been bullying him since the second grade!”
Shortly after that, the Uber got them to Feast Headquarters- an old building with industrialist “charm” that MJ could only assume could be from previous corporate use- probably an old Stark Industries building. Ned removed two lanyards from his breast pocket.
“Remember, you’re Michelle Walters and I’m your brother, Mike Walters.” Ned said.
“Right.” MJ replied slowly.
“Shut up.” Ned said. “We’re the kids of Nickalous Walters, on the board of Bishop security, which I think is hilarious by the way, and I’m going to get curious about dear old dad’s protocols for the evening, with me being wildly ambitious in following in the family business.”
“And let me guess, I’m an irresponsible socialite using dad’s credit card?” MJ responded as they approached the door.
“You’d be surprised how generally applicable that is to tonight’s guestlist.” Ned said. A security guard approached them with a metal detecting wand. Ned held up his doctored lanyard and in a confident voice MJ didn’t know he was capable of using, said, “I’m with the family of Bishop Security, there’s a different door for us, yeah?”
Needless to say, there in fact was.
“How much have you thought this through?” MJ asked as they walked through the back entrance of the gala.
“Honestly, this is as far as I got.” Ned replied nervously. “It’ll be fine though. This is easier than what Peter did in DC.”
“To be fair, Peter made half of his problems in DC.” MJ said.
“We won’t make problems then.”
“Easy.”
“Super easy.” And at that Ned and MJ parted ways; one down the hallways, and the other into the social fray.
—-
Pepper was really starting to wish she had taken Happy up on staying home. The entire banquet hall of Feast was decked out in glittery blacks and suedes, easily suiting the event more for a New Year’s Eve party than a memorial dinner. Whoever had planned the event hadn’t even properly done a dinner floor-set, the high tables and tiny plates obviously generated a cocktail atmosphere. To put it in simpler terms, someone had put on a party, and Pepper regretted letting the publicist team do what they wanted. This entire charade spoke nothing of May Parker.
It wasn't really supposed to be a memorial, though, was it? That’s what she had told Happy. This was really about celebrating being back, celebrating the good the Starks did, and celebrating the fact that Peter was alive and safe.
Her mind drifted back to five years ago, right after Peter’s funeral. That felt more like what a Parker memorial should be like. May, Tony, and Happy had finished off a bottle of wine together while Pepper sipped on sparkling water at the cabin. Pepper had bought it on a whim after Tony had been released from the hospital; a part of her wondered if escaping New York would do anything to draw longer sentences from him.
Evidently, it had. That, and the fact that Pepper was now undeniably pregnant, and with gentle support from Happy, Rhodey, and May, Tony was beginning to mentally come back in bits and pieces. Despite the nature that day held, the day of Peter’s funeral was a better day for Tony, shown by the way he held court and made a cold cabin with plastic-wrapped furniture feel like the warmest home on the planet.
“To the kid,” Tony said, raising his glass, “To the best fucking kid any of us have ever known.”
“The kid.” They all echoed. May finished her glass in three decisive gulps. “He hated wine.”
“Did he?” Tony laughed. “Yeah, he would. He would have something smart to say about how the industry was classist and how he dumb it is that he can’t even get drunk.”
“He definitely tried to in Germany.” Happy said. They all looked at him. He shrugged. “Kid figured out the room service pretty fast. Then he figured out that seven beers is supposed to feel like something.”
“Do you know what a relief that is?” May said. “I’ll never have to worry about him getting drunk at a party and making an ass of himself.”
Then, as if realizing the new meaning of her words, her smile faltered. The empty glass was put down.
“May…” Pepper said. No one knew what to say.
“I’m happy Ben and I never had kids.” She said quietly. “One, because nothing that could come from me would be half as good as Peter. Second, because truly, after losing them both, I don’t think I can survive another loss.”
“Peter did come from you.” Tony said sharply. “You and Ben both raised him, really. Everytime he does some sickenly moral thing, he tells me ‘Aunt May says this’ and ‘Aunt May says that.’”
“Don’t discredit yourself, May.” Pepper said as she tried to put Tony’s words in a more eloquent phrasing. “You made Peter just as much as Ben and his parents did.”
May shrugged, staring at the empty wine glass in her hand as she turned it so it could catch the overhead lights. “What are the odds that you’ll let me have another glass, Stark?”
Tony stared at her for a long moment. Pepper shook her head. Tony sent her that pleading look that she couldn’t overpower.
“One more and you’re cut off, Parker.” he said, standing up. “Come on Happy, help me do another round.”
Happy sent her an exasperated look and followed Tony to the kitchen. Pepper tapped May’s ankle with her foot. She still doesn’t know why she did it.
“Hey, you.” May said as she looked up with the warmth of familiarity that Pepper, quite frankly, didn’t deserve. “How's the boss man really holding up?”
Pepper’s mouth opened slightly, cheeks warming at her question. At this point in her life, she didn’t really know the Parkers all too well. Tony was the one who was close with Peter, and by extension May. He did tell her about how scarily deep their empathy went. Maybe that’s why May was such a good nurse.
“He’s…” Pepper didn’t know how to respond. Sure, Tony was functioning now, but grief worked in strange waves that broke against your shores at unpredictable times. Earlier in the day he had been despondent. Two nights ago he awoke in a panic. This morning he cooked breakfast while listening to the radio. She took a deep breath. “Peter was the reason we got engaged, did you know that?”
May laughed. “No way.”
“Tony… God I love him, for a genius, he doesn’t think things through. He was going to offer Peter a spot on the Avengers and called a whole press conference and everything.” Pepper had May’s attention now. “He told me all day, ‘this kid’s gonna flip with this one,’ and that I would love him and all that.”
“He told Tony no, didn’t he?” May said with a smile. Pepper nodded.
“I’ve never seen Tony’s face freeze like that. It took him five whole seconds to remember to breathe.” Pepper said. “Then he looked at Happy, who had a ring box, and turned to me and said ‘Let’s do this, then.’”
“So his proposal was you covering his ass to the media?”
“Well, I like to begin as I mean to go on.” Pepper said with a smile. “It would’ve happened eventually, but Peter just moved the process up by a couple weeks. Truth be told, it meant we got to enjoy being engaged before… well, all this.”
May nodded somberly.
“Your hero world,” she said softly. “It’s so weird, from the outside looking in.”
“That’s how I felt for the longest time.” Pepper said. “You watch someone put themselves on the line-”
“And then they don’t come home.” May said. “And I just wonder… God, what was it all for? He didn’t need to be there.”
“Tony tried to send him home.”
“And he was too god-damn helpful to let Tony do that.” May said. “He was so… he helped so many people, Pepper, and the real thing I’m scared about is that I’m going to let that spirit die with him.”
Now, Peter’s funeral had taken some time to organize. The world had taken a huge toll. It was shifting. Stark Industries was downsizing due to losing half its personal and half its consumer base. There were buildings unoccupied. Budgets about to be downsized.
What Pepper was trying to say was that she and Tony were sitting on a ton of resources at that moment.
“It doesn’t have to.” Is what she did end up saying, because as Tony and Happy returned with fresh glasses of wine and sparkling waters, May Parker, in her drunken glory, began rattling off the core concept of Feast- Food, Emergency, Aid, Shelter, and Training- and how it could be built to accommodate a new type of humanitarian crisis.
So it could be said that an elaborate gala spoke nothing of that wine-drunk moment on the couch after a child’s funeral. Especially when intended to represent someone who, starting from that moment in the cabin, had become one of Pepper’s closest friends.
That’s how she found herself wandering out of the main banquet room and down some empty hallways. It was in a more technical wing of the building, one where they kept paperwork and servers rather than offices and donation collections. It was a good place to be alone and cry, especially since no other guests had access to this suite. Well, no guests were intended to have access.
As she kept walking, she heard the distinct sound of rustling from the server room at the end of the hallway, where distinct yellow light was spilling out of the door. Pepper should have called a security guard or Tony, but instead, she activated the nano-gauntlet stored in the silver bracelet on her arm and swung open the door.
Truth be told, she was expecting to see almost anyone behind that door- a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, a HYDRA agent, any one of the Avengers, really, or maybe some fanatic obsessed with Peter in an idolizing or villainizing way. What she wasn’t expecting to see was a teenage boy.
“Oh my God.” He breathed out, immediately holding his hands up. “As cool as it would be to get shot by you, please don’t.”
—-
Betty had gotten through translating the first page when her phone buzzed again. The smell of cucumber casserole began to truly affect the air by this point, but Betty couldn’t bring herself to move from the table. Those snotty interns at the Bugle could have the Feast Gala story- this one would have her on front pages for an entire year.
“My name is Wanda Maximoff. I understand that my written account can be held under the same litigation as my witness statements signed by myself on April 22nd and April 23rd, 2018. Through those statements I affirm that the events reported are true, fair, and accurate to the events that came to pass.”
Her phone buzzed again- God, couldn’t they get the message?
“Around 11:39 PM, S.H.I.E.L.D. was notified of a disturbance on the outskirts of Manhattan in a non-residential district. I was not notified; however, Captain Steve Rogers had been intercepting communications for quite some time. While I understand that the group Captain Steve Rogers had formed was not affiliated with either S.H.I.E.L.D. nor the American government, and therefore no longer privileged to their protections, we were operating as a vigilante service aiming to aid the efforts of S.H.I.E.L.D. and its allies.”
She bet it was Ned, and the thought made her heart hurt a little. But she had to move on, didn’t he realize it? Sure, he was probably feeling lost in a new world, but he would move on, find more exciting things to do than call Betty- a married woman in her twenties, who totally moved on from that portion of her life- on a Friday night. He was just struggling. So many people were there.
“Captain Steve Rogers sent me around 12:00 AM on April 23rd, and I arrived at the disturbance at 12:10 AM. No other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had arrived at the scene. Therefore, I am of the strong belief that I am the only witness to what happened at OSCORP’s research facility that night; more specifically, I know exactly what Norman Osborn’s cause of death was and the circumstances surrounding it.”
She did feel a little guilty, however, knowing how close Ned and Peter were. Should she publish this- and she would have to, truly, it definitely wouldn’t help with Ned’s moving on. Many things were about to shake up.
—-
With Ned occupied, that left MJ to mill around the Gala hall. Watching all the little circles of people tighten as she moved past them sent a sour memory of freshman homecoming to the forefront of her memory. Isn’t Feast supposed to be so all-welcoming? From the uppity dress code to the fake heir and heiress identities Ned had to doctor, this whole song-and-dance had Stark charm written all over it, and a part of MJ wondered if that was a media trick to get the heat off of Peter, wherever he was.
MJ really hoped that tonight wasn’t a waste of time. What was she even supposed to be looking for? Getting the server information was the real golden goose, MJ was just backup if Ned took longer than an hour. After an unsuccessful lap she found herself leaning by the bar, attempting to waive down a waiter for a coke or something stronger. The longer she stood there the more famous faces she recognized, ranging anywhere from young-and-hungry models to talk show hosts and Hollywood stars. This wasn’t the Feast gala May Parker could ever have envisioned- no, this was a Stark gala.
Peter had attended one a few months back- or rather, it would have been five years and a few months back. He absolutely hated them- they reeked of opulence and false heroism in the form of signed checks and handshakes. It was the one thing he could never stand about Tony Stark, the business side of the superhero gig. MJ could only imagine how mad he would be now seeing that May’s memorial dinner had been twisted into the very antithesis of everything the working-class Queens nurse had stood for.
And that’s when Harry Osborn slid up next to her and confidently ordered two rum and coke, one of which he gave to MJ without a second thought. She accepted it without question and watched the tiny bubbles pop before meeting his electric blue eyes.
This Harry wasn’t the asshole transfer student that haunted Midtown’s halls for a week before the Blip. That kid was still human; he had holes MJ could easily poke into his false exterior to see the person inside. This Harry Osborn was different, he was plastic. At first glance he was charismatic and charming on the surface, and if one looked further, that’s all he was. Either that or getting lasik really did an 180 on your entire vibe.
“Michelle, was it?” he said, and took a sip before she could answer. “It’s been what, five years?”
“Something like that.” She said, suddenly all intrigued in where the conversation should lead. Before he could get an edge and drag the conversation into something topical that she hadn’t yet caught up on, she followed up with, “You’re Betty Brandt’s plus-one, aren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” he said with a laugh. His eyes flashed in irritation. “Listen-”
“Where is she? I was hoping to catch up with her, I haven’t seen her since,” MJ gestured outwards with her hands and maintained a cheery voice, as if the Blip was more of a minor inconvenience than the atrocity it was, “This.”
“She, uh, couldn’t make it tonight.” Harry said with a false chuckle. A part of MJ swelled at her ability to still strike under his skin. And maybe another part of MJ was angry for Ned for taking Betty from him, as illogical as it was. So what? It was easy to hate people like Harry. She refused to address it.
He sobered up. “I really need to talk to you, though.”
“Shoot, Osborn.” MJ took a long sip from her drink in an attempt to match the casual nature of the conversation. Deep down, she knew that Harry could be an actual threat. From her understanding, he spent the past five years making very powerful friends. While he couldn’t physically hurt her here so publically, she shifted her hips slightly, allowing the weight of the purse swinging back to bump her and reassure her of the gun’s presence.
“You were… you are, I should say,” Harry began, “good friends with Peter, yeah?”
And wasn’t that a dangerous question? Although the gala hall was roaring with the noise of conversation, she felt the room lean in on her, as if every spare ear was tilted in her direction.
MJ liked to take calculated risks. It's how she won almost every Decathlon meet she captained for, and it's why she chose to sit alone at lunch every day when she knew if she chose to truly play the high school social game she could land herself anywhere. So knowing what she knew about every trust-fund ear listening in on their conversation, and knowing what she knew about Pepper Potts being in the room tonight, and knowing especially that Harry knew something about Peter, she answered by saying:
“Well actually, I’m his girlfriend.”
For a moment, some indiscernible emotion flickered across Harry’s face. Before MJ could pinpoint it, his plastic smile returned.
“Isn’t that nice?” He said cheerfully, but something in his eyes said it was quite the opposite. “So you can understand how I feel.”
MJ seriously doubted that. “Oh?”
“Michelle, I am seriously worried about Peter,” he said. “I mean, it's been weeks and nobody has heard from him. He’s apparently Tony Stark’s son now, but where’s Tony Stark? None of it makes sense.”
He sighed. “I was hoping maybe he would be here tonight? It's crazy, but some people from my dad’s estate are wanting to open up an investigation against him. I’m doing everything in my power to stop it, but they’ve locked me out of the process.”
“Wouldn’t it make it worse for you to get in contact with him then?” MJ pointed out, taking a long sip. “I mean, it would do you both good to stay distanced until the courts drop it.”
“The courts won’t drop it.” Harry answered quickly. MJ raised her eyebrows. Something wasn’t clicking. Sympathy for those outside his bubble wasn’t on the script for Midtown Harry Osborn, but then again, this wasn’t Midtown Harry Osborn now, was it? “I need to warn him.”
Suddenly MJ was aware that this is the part where she was supposed to tell Harry how to get in contact with Peter. While she had spent all this time mining him for information hidden between body language and tone, he had been doing the same.
The only question was why?
“He’ll definitely hear about it through Stark’s legal team.” She said, “He’s had the same steel wall of litigation on his payroll since he was captured in Afghanistan.”
“Yeah.” Harry nodded his head from side to side as if considering it, then turned downwards to his cup. Now that she saw the conversation for what it was, she truly found Harry’s acting subpar, especially for a businessman. “It would be nice to warn him like me though, you know? He was my classmate, I mean, we were all classmates. I don’t want him to be blindsided.”
MJ finished the last third of the rum and coke and placed the glass on the bartop with an audible clack. “Harry, I’m disappointed.”
His head snapped toward her. “What?”
“You buy me a drink,” she held up the glass for a moment, “Then talk to me like we’re both in high school again. You act like we’re old friends while trying to subtly relate to my experience coming back five years later. I expected better.”
“And truth be told, Harry, I never talked to you once at Midtown except for that time we both skipped detention and you were smoking a blunt under the bleachers.” She said with a shrug. “We aren’t friends, never were, and yet you wax on about concern for Peter, a kid who was a social pariah back in 2018 and who you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. I know you’re trying to get his location from me, so what do you want with it?”
For a moment his mouth fell open, until it curled into a smile that released a quick puff of air. His shoulders tensed. “You always were a smart-ass, weren’t you, Jones?”
“Thanks for the drink.” She said, and turned to walk away. She made it two steps, before her purse strapped yanked her back, turning around, she saw Harry white knuckle the chain with one hand. She looked around, and while it had felt every ear was on them, not a singular eye was. In this full room not a single person spared a glance, and MJ suddenly felt very, very alone. Ned had only truly gone for no longer than twenty minutes. Unless some miracle had occurred, there was no reason for him to come back anytime soon.
“Don’t go,” he said, eyes fixated on his glass. His speech lost its over-polite shine. Dread began to pool in her stomach, despite herself. “Ballroom dancing is about to start. It’s simply been too long, Michelle, we need to catch up.”
“I’ll scream.” MJ threatened, and the dread only grew larger when Harry’s expression didn’t change. “I’ll cause a scene and really make a story worth Betty’s time.”
“You’re seventeen, Michelle,” he said. “You’re drunk and can’t handle your booze. Your former classmate was just looking out for you. Let’s catch up. I think there truly are… some things we need to discuss..”
“MJ!” Relief flooded over her when she heard Ned’s voice, and both MJ and Harry turned to see Ned pushing his way through the crowd. He reached her with a smile on his face, holding up the USB. Huh. Miracles.
“Let’s go, I got what we need and you’ll never guess who I just met.” He said. His smile diminished. “Are you ok?”
MJ’s head turned toward Harry, only to find that he had vanished before Ned could catch sight of him. She wondered what she looked like, pale and rigid at the bar tops with no apparent cause. MJ took a deep breath.
“Yeah. Let’s go home.” She said, “I’ve always hated this kind of shit. Peter did, too.”
The uneasy feeling didn’t leave her. In fact, it followed both her and Ned out the door and to the Uber, across Queens and to Nana Leed’s apartment, where it stood outside for a few hours until the rain began.
MJ slept with the gun underneath her pillow that night.
—-
It felt illegal to be anywhere that wasn’t home or Avengers tower. Days like these, sitting by Peter’s side was all Tony felt like he should do - what he could do. Realistically, he knew that outside his bubble everything was a shitshow.
Rhodey had his back to the wall defending the Avengers in the political playpen. Danvers was gearing up to blast off- feeling the media flames on her back as she prepared to halt a Thanos copycat before he discovered too much about Tony’s methodology. Pepper was diving headfirst into the media circus at her best friend’s memorial just to strategically play in the court of public opinion. Steve was properly missing, Russia was taunting South Korea, of all people, and now would be a really good time for Iron Man.
But Tony was driving to Hell’s kitchen, and unless the good doctor told him the world was ending, the suit was offline.
All of these were perfectly good reasons for why Tony was in a haze as Daredevil sat across him in some shitty office complex halfway across town. Now of course, Daredevil didn’t know that Tony knew who he was, but the guy wasn’t exactly being subtle about it. The blind thing does throw people off, he’ll give him that, but weirder things have happened in the past five years alone than blind guys throwing their hats in the vigilante rings.
Honestly, if anything, Tony’s surprised no one figured it out sooner. Come on- Daredevil and She-Hulk teaming up just as Jennifer Walters’ private firm begins to source interns from the same pool as Nelson & Murdock? If someone was honest to God looking, it would hit them in the face.
Somehow, Matt Murdock managed to do the whole vigilante thing while avoiding getting arrested and avoiding getting absolutely nuked by his very powerful enemies (Tony had done some digging). So although everything about Nelson & Murdock reminded Tony that he wasn’t in Kansas anymore, he heard the man out from the comfort of the Office Depot chair that had obviously been bought on clearance.
“And that covers the basis of the case, should the DA choose to move forward with it.” Matt Murdock said, pushing a binder across the mahogany desk and towards Tony. “This covers what they will draw from, could draw from, and what I can imagine their witnesses will aim to accomplish.”
“Do you think the DA has the balls to do it?” Tony murmured, eyeing the binder warily. Matt hesitated. To say Tony Stark was out of place in Nelson & Murdock was an understatement. More often than not, the smell of Armani cologne came from the other side of the courtroom than his, so to speak.In fact, Stark had more in common with Wilson Fisk than Matt, the only real difference being Stark’s moral line in the sand drawn far before Fisk’s. No, there was something else causing Matt to hear him out.
“Unfortunately Peter can be the perfect scapegoat for certain politicians.” Matt said with finality. “Senator Brown just lost and I can imagine this case can be the foundation of his comeback should he choose to politicize it. The DA’s payroll is backed by people with pretty strong opinions.”
Tony’s growing frown deepened, or at least, Matt assumed it did. For once, the businessman turned television personality turned hero was silent.
“That being said, he’s a father like you, who has a stepdaughter that’s Peter’s age. He could go either way with this.” Matt added as Tony pulled the binder closer to him. “That’s why I chose to be prepared.”
Matt leaned back in his chair as he listened to Tony page through the binder. This meeting had two purposes: to demonstrate how much Matt knew about the case, and to see how much Stark knew about his nightlife. He wouldn’t touch the Accords with a five-foot pole- and he had one, too.“I have to ask though, why me?”
He heard Tony still in his chair. “Well, why not?”
“I’ve heard rumors through the grapevine how much you basically pay RM&T to be your private firm. They even handled the initial legal guardianship. Why bring me on?” Matt pressed.
“Well, I think we both know you and Peter have a good bit in common.” Tony said carefully. Damn it.
“Disabilities.” Matt offered.
“No.” Tony said quickly. “He’s not disabled.”
“It's not an insult, Mr. Stark, but your son is missing his arm.” Murdock said frankly. “If he’s ever going to adjust to life after the Blip, you’re going to have to accept that.”
“He’s going to be fine. The Wakandan princess is personally overseeing his prosthetics.” Tony said. “It will be like it never happened.”
“Do you honestly believe that, or are you just that desperate to hide back in your cabin?” Matt said sharply. His words must have shocked not just Tony but himself, his chair creaked as he leaned backwards in it, somewhat defeated. A part of Matt wanted to apologize. The other part had a headache from that pompous cologne.
“Mr. Stark, I’m going to be blunt with you.” Matt said. “Do you honestly think you’re the best person to handle Peter’s guardianship?”
“The best person is six feet under right now, Mr. Murdock. Options two, three, and four are right beside her.” Tony said. “We’re working with the reserves right now.”
“Let me rephrase.” Matt leaned back in his chair. “What do you need to do to become the best person to be his parent? When Peter wakes up, the life he had before might as well be gone. His family will be different. His life will be different. His friends will be different. His body will be different. I’m willing to help you in this case. Mutant interests are something I have special consideration for.”
“But,” Matt paused. “Are you honestly prepared for what happens when you win? Peter isn’t like you.”
“And I really hope that doesn’t change. Is it a good enough answer for you if I say I’m working on it?” Tony countered. “No one’s exactly parented the savior of the universe before, have they?”
“Quite the contrary. I think the Virgin Mary did a fine job with it.” Matt said. “I advise asking her for advice.”
“Are you telling me to go to church? I washed my hands of God after I found out the Norse ones like to mooch pop-tarts from me behind my back.”
“I’m telling you to pray, Mr. Stark.” Matt said. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Last time I prayed, God didn’t answer me. He and I never got back on speaking terms after Afghanistan.”
“Were you ever on speaking terms?”
“I think you really missed out on the profession of psychotherapy, Mr. Murdock.” Tony said, standing up. “But I won’t be lectured by a vigilante on my religious obligation.”
And there it was, cards out in the open. Foggy would lecture him for antagonizing their largest client yet, but to be fair, bagging large clients wasn’t exactly their line of work. Besides, Matt now knew how much he had to put Stark on his radar, and the answer wasn’t to his liking.
“Why am I your custody lawyer, Mr. Stark? You pay the bastards at RM&T to agree to your every whim. Obviously, you can’t stand me. Do they know something about the case that I don’t?”
“You can’t pay for passion, Mr. Murdock, and you’re going to take this case because you care about Spider-Man, not me.” Matt’s desk creaked as Stark placed either hand on the edge and leaned forward. Definitely would be an intimidation tactic if Matt was a man unenhanced or could see it, instead he mused on whether or not he could convince Foggy to invest in mahogany after they win. “The case will get politicized whether we like it or not, and I would rather have a guy whose firm works with Jennifer Walters than Samuel Brown, if you get what I mean.”
“You’re turning this into a performance.” That moral line in the sand truly was what separated a Stark from a Fisk.
“No, The DA will. I did some digging on him, turns out the guy was an intern for SI back in the day. Publicly hated my guts before going to law school to try to shut me down.” Tony threw his hands out. “Unsuccessful, obviously, but the odds of him dropping the case are slim to none.”
“So that’s why RM&T told you to finally fuck off.” Matt nodded his head thoughtfully.
“He’s my kid.”
Matt sighed. “I’m aware of that, but did it ever occur to you to stop making enemies?”
“I just fought a purple dickhead who personally crossed the galaxy to kick my ass.” Tony said. “Sometimes, shit happens.”
“A bit of legal advice, Mr. Stark, do not say that on the stand.” Matt said. He stood up to meet Stark’s height and held his hand out to shake. “But you’re right, I do have a soft spot for Spider-Man. Consider me on your payroll for the foreseeable future.”
And that’s how Matt Murdock met Tony Stark.
—
One of the most unique features of any human face is the eyebrows. Sure, its not glaringly obvious, like a tattoo or an unbecoming zit, and its definitely not as glamorous as eye color or perfectly applied blush, but the shape, size, and color of the eyebrows just altered in the slightest can make someone look different in minutes.
Which is why immediately after Wanda dropped the parcel on Betty Brandt’s doorstep, she went to the nearest beauty parlor and had her eyebrows done. She went bombshell blonde, just like Nat did back in 2016. She even bleached her eyebrows and had them trimmed to a point. To be frank, the result was disastrous and not near as suave as Nat made it to be. Maybe it was because Wanda was cheap and went to the first place she could find.
She digressed.
Unfortunately, the contents of that manila folder did nothing to hide her identity. She wrote it as if she would give it to Stark herself, then dangle it over him while he saved Vision. Wanda had no quarrel with Peter Parker, truly, she didn’t. And truth be told, if it weren’t for the fact that his behaviors and personality were so close to Pietro’s she might as well have released it anyways in the first place. But unfortunately she has a soft spot for self-sacrificial heroes from small places.
She used to be one herself.
Which is exactly why she told herself the queasy feeling in her stomach was from the smell of bleach, and not guilt. This would complicate things for Peter on a massive scale. Maybe he would even grow to relate to Pietro and Wanda more than anyone would like as a result…
After bleaching her hair and her eyebrows, she hid behind a pair of obnoxious white shades that covered a third of her forehead. Catching her reflection in a passing storefront revealed a white bug-lady of a person; someone unmistakably rich enough to dress poor and walking the streets of Manhattan with a sense of self-assured poise. When a man pulled up beside her to park his car, some expensive model with an expensive metal logo, she cupped his cheek and asked sweetly for his keys.
Men are simple creatures; he complied.
While getting out of the city was a headache like no other, once Wanda hit the open road she finally let herself breathe. However, every mile she gained toward her final destination was one away from Vision, away from Stark, and away from the pocket of the United States that she knew. Refugee Wanda Maximoff never got to go farther than this. Avenger Wanda Maximoff never got to go farther than this. Criminal Wanda Maximoff never got to go farther than this. Outlaw Wanda Maximoff never got to go farther than this.
But Strange had explained it all to her last night, after they left the construction floor of Avengers tower and after he told her about the timeline that was intended to pass instead of this one. These steps were necessary; even the part where she leaked the folder on Peter. Even the part where she said goodbye to her hair. Even the part where she stole the car. Even the parts that haven’t yet come to fruition.
Either way, she was excited about this next chapter. She was finally putting Wanda first. Yelena sounded like a real delight, cut from a very similar cloth as she. It truly was a real downer how they first should meet, but a fitting one- at the grave of someone who made it all possible for either of them.
And so the Scarlet Widow drove on to meet her new sister in arms.