darkest before the dawn

August 5th, 2016

9:33 AM

May is not pleased with the dog.

She does not like the fact that Peter snuck a pit bull into her apartment.

She is even less pleased when she finds out that Peter’s gotten attached.

“Peter.”

Peter pretends he cannot hear her, playing with Max by tugging the Iron Man toy out of his mouth, Max play-fighting back with his teeth.

“Peter.”

Max wins the fight, looking supremely proud of himself as he sits on the floor, biting into Iron Man. Peter already snuck him out the window so Max could go outside, and that’s how they got caught.

“Peter.”

Okay, okay.

Peter turns around to May, a pleading expression on his face. “But he’s a good boy!”

May throws her hands up, an exasperated motion matching her expression. “We can’t have a dog, Peter! We literally cannot have one.”

“Our upstairs neighbor smokes weed! I’m also eighty-percent sure the other one below us is a hitman! Please May, please.” Peter begs her, arms around Max’s neck, big brown eyes wide at May. Max copies Peter, looking at the brown-haired woman with sad eyes.

“Peter-” May sighs, dressed in her pajamas. She’s got work in the afternoon. “Peter, that’s a pit bull. In fact, it’s more than that, it looks like it's a mix between a mastiff and a pitbull. Do you know how dangerous those things are?”

“Those are stereotypes, May!” Peter protests, pouting. “Max is a good boy. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Max?” May repeats, “You already named him?”

“Yeah.” Peter crosses his arms, mindful of not moving his arms too much. They’re still bandaged. “It’s a good name.”

May sighs.

She knows she is not going to win this battle.

“Whatever,” May walks off into the kitchen, eyes rolling. “I’m not taking him out to shit, though. That’s on you.”

“Language!”

May stares at him with a blank expression. Peter giggles, hiding his face in Max’s fur. Her face softens. “What’chu up to today, kid?”

Nothing big. Just gonna go meet up with an super-powered alcoholic investigator and my dead best friend’s dad who shot me. 

“I think I’m gonna go hangout with Ned today,” Peter says carefully, watching her expression. “We’ll stay in Queens and I’ll take Max. We’ll be safe, I promise.”

May purses her lips, gaze lingering on the bruises that never seemed to fade from Peter’s face. “Fine. Just…..text me if you’re going to stay the night or something. Let me know where you are.”

Peter salutes her. “Will do.”

May rolls her eyes, pouring herself another cup of coffee. Peter makes grabby-hands and she slides him a cup, with just a bit of creamer. “You’re such a dork.”

Peter sticks out his tongue at her, drinking his coffee as Max tries to nose in on it. Max discovers that he cannot and decides to go bother May, who is not surprised or pleased by this development.

Holding the mug in his hands, Peter asks, “Hey, can we go to the Museum of Natural History for my birthday? I kinda want to go to the Rose Center and….” Peter trails off, looking at May biting her lips. “But we don’t have to! We could just go to the bookshop and-”

“I want to wait to see when all this clears up,” May explains, hands on either side of her mug. “When they catch the guy responsible for everything.”

Oh.

So my birthday plans are counting on me to catch the guy responsible.

Yay.

“Okay,” Biting his lip, Peter tries to think of something else to talk about that doesn’t make him think about what he has to do in the next few days. “Uh, how about them Yankees?”

Sports.

“You don’t even like sports,” May snorted, propping her head up on her chin.”No, but seriously. What’s wrong?”

Okay, so.

Mr. Castle is here. He’s alive. He tried to kill me, which was very panic-inducing and not at all fun. I haven’t seen him since...the thing, except when he’s been on the news, which means he’s killing people. And killing people is wrong, but I beat up people in a hoodie and ski mask so I can't really talk ‘ cause then I’m a hypocrite. But he’s alive now, and he’s gonna help me with taking down Jigsaw, which is great but…..

He’s Mr. Castle.

He’s known me for basically three years. I used to sleep at their house before I came to live with you., and even after I still spent alot of nights with them. He was Lisa and Frankie’s dad, and I trusted him.

But now he’s the Punisher. He kills people. And he tried to shoot me, tried to kill me, but he didn’t know it was me and now I’m supposed to work with him and he still doesn’t know who I am. I’m not sure how long I can keep the charade up. 

How long is it until he figures out who I am?

“Um,” Peter sticks the tip of his tongue out of his mouth, staring blankly in the corner. “Y’know. Just thinkin’ about mom.”

May rubs Max’s head, a raised eyebrow. “What about her?”

This.

This is what Peter loves about May.

There’s no pity with her, no underlying sadness. Peter and her can talk about shit, things that would make any other person’s face fill with sadness and pity. But it’s not like that with May. She’s never felt sorry for him, just offered a helping hand when he needed it. She’s never treated him like a kid, she’s always treated him like a younger sibling.

Which is basically the truth because May was 28 and Ben had been 29 when he died. 

May would probably like Jessica.

They would get along.

“Just wonderin’,'' Peter coaxes Max back to him, dangling a milk bone treat in front of him. Max lunges forward, snagging it out of Peter’s hand. “Just where she is now. What she’s doin’.”

May slowly drinks her coffee.

May doesn’t like Mary.

“I’m sure she’s doing great,” she says finally, slightly awkward. Peter grins at her, knowing exactly what’s going on in her mind. “Where do you think she is?”

Peter thinks.

His mother, even though she left him, is a constant source of mystery. There’s a part of him that never wants to figure out what actually happened, because he doesn’t want to lose that small part of ignorance.

“Maybe she’s in Europe,” Peter suggests, “Y’know, maybe she’s in Paris. Takin’ in all the sights. Eatin’ croissants by a river in a cafe’ and that kind of shit.”

“And you say I’m bad with swearing,” May mutters, stretching her arms above her head. “But really? Paris? Last time you said she was a time-traveler.”

“She is,” Peter assures May, “It’s because she’s a part of the Illuminati.”

May groans as Peter grins, his troubles forgotten for a small moment.

❁

Peter meets up with Ned at a park near Queensboro., the sun high in the sky, covered by gray clouds. It’s nice out today, for him. Peter prefers it when it’s cloudy and about to rain. It feels better.

Ned’s already there when Peter sees him, beaming like a fucking ray of sunshine. He’s wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses and Peter already wants to go home. But Ned is kind of adorable, so he stays. Thankfully, Ned is sitting outside, so Peter doesn’t have to drag him out outside ‘cause of Max. Max, who has never met Ned in his lifetime, bounds forward and immediately tries to get scratches from Ned.

Like seriously. 

Ned is beaming even more now, hands outstretched to catch Max as the dog leaps into his arms and licks his face. Peter has to tug him back with the leash. “Oh my god, Peter. He’s so adorable! Where did you find him?”

Peter slumps down in a chair across from Ned, pulling his hood down. “Murder scene.”

Ned’s smile falters, but only for a minute. “Okay, okay, wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

Before Peter can ask what that means, Ned pulls out a manilla folder full of information. Peter’s mouth opens and before he can make a stupid comment about how this isn’t the Cold War, Ned’s already talking. “So, I looked into this guy.” Ned doesn’t say the name, nervously glancing around the park. There’s no one, just a guy wearing a jacket facing the fountain.

Peter hasn’t heard that heartbeat since it left at eleven o’clock last night. He’s not here.

“And?” Peter prompts, letting Max off leash. Max goes to investigate a tree. “What’d you find?”

Ned hesitates and Peter knows it’s not good. “Okay, so. Your guy is named Curtis Hoyle, served in the Navy and was deployed several times before he was discharged.”

“How was he discharged?”

“Lost his leg in an explosion,” Ned fiddles with the folder. “Came back and started a support group for veterans in St. Johns Evangelical Lutheran Church. That’s why he was there. But, uh, I don’t think the support group is why he was attacked.”

Max is nosing around by the man on the bench, who leans out and scratches him on the head.  

Dumb dog.

Peter calls out to him and Max bounds back toward the two boys, panting.

Ned leans closer to him, no longer smiling in his sunglasses and baseball cap. “Okay, so you remember this March, right? When the-” Ned hesitates. “When the Punisher came back?”

“No, I don’t remember when the police were running like chickens with their heads chopped off,” Peter drawls. “Please, enlighten me.”

The hooded man on the bench shakes a bit, almost in laughter, and Peter’s eyes narrow.

Ned distracts him. “Well, Curtis Hoyle was deployed with the Punisher when they were in Iraq. That’s where he lost his leg. Curtis Hoyle also was reported to be one of the few people who knew Frank Castle was alive. I guess they were friends or something.”

Peter’s hand tightens around that scratchy, neon leash. “How did you find that out?”

Ned looks sheepish. “Might’ve hacked some police records. I think there’s some that links back to Homeland, but that’s government and also terrifying.”

Peter takes the file and not to his surprise, it’s all about Mr. Castle. Ned flicks his gaze from the folder to Peter. “I think that whoever the murderer is, it’s trying to go after the Punisher.”

“Did you see anything about a Brett Mahoney in here?” Peter asks, flipping through the papers. It’s not much, mostly lists of people the Punisher’s killed, who he’s worked with, some newspaper clippings about this March. Peter kind of hates Ned for a minute, forcing the bile down his throat as he reads the names of the people Mr. Castle killed.

“Yeah! He was the detective assigned to the Punisher’s case,” Ned explains, fixing his glasses. “There’s also a mention of a Dinah Madani and a Billy Russo.”

 Billy?

Peter snaps his head up, staring. “Oh, hell no..”

“I didn’t know you swore that much,” Ned notes, staring as Peter tears through the file, looking for any mention of Billy. Of Mr. Russo. “But-um-why are you like this?”

“Billy Russo was a very close acquaintance of Frank Castle,” Peter mutters under his breath, glaring at the one, lone piece of paper that simply states names that Peter doesn’t recognize and a location that he thinks is in Afghanistan. Kandahar. William Rawlins. Operation Cerberus. Billy Russo. Ray Schoonver. 

And Frank Castle.

Peter stares at it hard before he looks up at Ned. “Did you find anything else relating to this?”

“This was the only thing I could find on police servers,” Ned explains. “I don’t think it was supposed to be there anyway.”

Max whines and Peter tosses a milkbone at him. The sounds of Max eating his dog treat are muffled through Peter’s ears as he looks through the file. Is this guy coming after Mr. Castle? Is that why Jigsaw was specifically after Mahoney? What did the hospital have to do with that? How did Mr. Castle know Leo and Zach?

Was Jigsaw going to come after Peter?

Peter dismissed that thought, looking through the file of everyone Jigsaw attacked. It looks like Jigsaw only went after people Mr. Castle was associated with after he became the Punisher. Besides, Peter thinks bitterly, everything that connected Peter to the Castles was wiped by that lady. Reyes.

He’ll ask Leo later if she knows Mr. Castle.

“Dinah Madani,” Peter taps the paper, “Who is she?”

“Agent for Homeland Security,” Ned answers, pulling out a paper and handing it to Peter. “She was a part of the investigation into the Punisher this March. Still works at Homeland right now.”

Peter scans the paper, but it gives no clue if she’s an ally or a foe to Mr. Castle. If she’s gonna be next on Jigsaw’s list. “Was there anyone else that might be next on a list?”

Ned scratches Max’s head. “Um, well, there’s Hoyle, Mahoney, Madani, and um…I think there was this guy named Lieberman, but there’s like one mention of him and that’s it. I only managed to find one mention of Russo.” 

Fuck.

“There’s also the lawyers who represented the Punisher, Nelson & Murdock. But they disbanded after the case, and I think Murdock works as an independent lawyer and Nelson works as a lawyer at Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz and-why are you making that face?”

Peter looks like he’s sucking on a lemon, he knows. “They suck.”

“Why do you have opinions on lawyers?”

Peter scowls. “They won’t let me see my mom’s will.”

“O-kay,” Ned squints at him, “Why won’t they let you-”

“‘Cause she’s missing; not dead.” Peter scowls at the hooded man sitting 30 feet away from them, who shouldn’t be able to hear what they’re talking about. “This lady, Hogarth, she was the one my mom filed it with. She won’t let me see it.”

“Yeah, well, she just made her own practice,” Ned reports, waving the paper. “Nelson works there now.”

Peter grumbles.

“There’s also their secretary,” Ned pores over the paper, “Karen Page. She’s a journalist. Um, I can’t tell what, but I think she’s pretty connected to Castle. And I think that’s it.”

“Were there any kids mentioned? Like, anyone under the age of thirteen?” Peter stares at Max, who’s patiently waiting for them to finish.

“No.” Ned looks confused. “Why?”

“No reason.” Peter stands up and stretches. “So, we got Madani, Page, and a few others who might be next. Good work, Ned.”

Ned beams with pride. “Can I have a codename? Like, if I’m your guy in the chair, I should have a codename, right? So maybe-”

Ned gets interrupted by a yell. A very obnoxious yell. One that makes Peter groan in frustration and Ned slightly shrink in his seat. 

“Hey Penis!”

Peter will not fight him.

He won’t.

“Hello Flash,” Peter drawls, leaning against the bench. “Lovely meeting you here.”

Flash sneers at him, surrounded by his friends, and Peter wonders what exactly he did to Flash to make Flash hate him as he does. There’s a malice in those dark eyes that Peter recognizes, but doesn’t take seriously. “You hear the news, Parker?”

Peter blinks. “No.”

Ned looks like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

Flash ignores him, looking disdainfully down his nose at Peter. Goddnamit. Why are bullies the tallest people? “Well, I shouldn’t expect much from someone who lives in a one bedroom apartment.”

Real original, Flash. Haven’t heard it eight times over, noo.

And fuck you, it’s a two-bedroom.

“What do you want, Flash,” Peter flatly states, making sure his backpack is secure on his back. It’s got some stuff in it, stuff he doesn’t want Flash and his cronies getting into. Max gets up and lopes to Peter’s side, facing Flash. Even Ned moves closer to Peter, getting up and standing up behind Max.

Flash starts again, wearing clothing that Peter knows isn’t second-hand or bought on clearance. “Well, you remember that time when you said that your uncle was dead?”

Peter feels a boil of anger in his stomach. He never said that. The teacher asked what family they had and Peter simply said his aunt. He never said his uncle was dead. Everyone in that fucking gossip pool came to their own conclusions instead of letting a dead man rest.

Where the fuck was this going?

Flash is grinning, in that leering way of his and his friends are stuffling their giggles. “Wondered why he died. Then I realized.”

One of Flash’s friends hands him a piece of paper, too fast for Peter to read and Flash smugly grins at Peter. “Your uncle died right around the spring, right? Last year?”

Peter feels so cold.

puttingclothesindonationboxescryingoverphotographsnotspeakingforweeks

He doesn’t say a word.

Flash shoves the paper in his face and Peter flinches back, momentarily caught up with bruising fists and scent of alcohol. “Guess who’s back in town?”

With shaking fingers, Peter takes the paper. It’s a newspaper, he realizes. He didn’t think Flash knew what those were. Ned’s got the file clutched to his chest, eyes on Peter.

It says, in bold black headlines that scream at him, PUNISHER BACK IN NEW YORK.

Blood roaring through his ears, Peter reads the text underneath, fingers tearing at the paper.

Frank Castle, also known as the Punisher, was spotted yesterday in Greenpoint, Brooklyn on a convenience store security camera. This was just after the attack on St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, which the FBI has confirmed was committed by the vigilante known as Spider-Man. Opinion on whether Spider-Man is guilty or not remains split among the public, with a higher percentage of Queens’ residents remaining firm in their judgement Spider-Man did not commit these crimes. Frank Castle also operated in Queens, specifically this March. Castle first became known to the public in late June of 2015-

Peter tears his eyes away from the paper, breathing hard. Words flitter in and out of his vision and everything itches and hurts. 

It feels more real now.

Like it’s not just a fever dream.

“That’s how your uncle died, wasn’t it?”

Peter faces Flash, confused and hand still clenching that paper in his fist. “What?”

“How he died.” Flash gestures at the paper. “Your uncle was a dirty cop so the Punisher killed him. Easy-peasy. That’s why you were acting like a fucking weirdo all March. Must’ve been great, seeing your uncle’s murderer wandering around Queens.”

There’s a soft little gasp behind him, but Peter ignores it. 

Sometimes he wonders if Ned will figure it out. Look up his hospital records and see.

Because it’s there. Reyes might have been able to hide most of it, but she couldn’t hide the coma. Ned’s smart, he’d be able to piece together the times. Figure it out. 

Flash leans closer to him and it’s too close, way too close and he grins, pure triumph in his eyes. Like he’s found the one thing that’ll make Peter fall. “What’s it like knowing your uncle’s murderer is a hero to people?”

Max whines and Peter’s fist clenches tightly, nails biting into flesh.

Ben had died a hero.

But his death had been so suspicious.

And people talk, don’t they?

“I mean, he deserved it so-”

Peter’s fist flies out of nowhere and pops Flash in the mouth. 

Whoops.

Blood streaming from his mouth, Flash stumbles backward, hand over his split lip. “You bit-”

Snarling, Peter moves forward, shoving Flash again and again, brushing off his friends like they’re mosquitos. His stance is low, and his shoulders are tense, eyes dark. He’s fought monsters and muggers and robotic mercenaries. A prideful rich-kid who lives in a penthouseis barely a threat. “Shut up-shut up-shut up! You don’t know anything you’re talking about!”

Flash is taller than him, at about 5’6. It doesn’t stop Peter from kicking him the shins, shoving him back farther and farther. Ned makes this squeaking noise, but Peter doesn’t care anymore, because how dare this prissy rich kid call his uncle dirty, how dare he say the worlds better off without him. How dare he. His friends aren’t even helping anymore, just standing off to the side with those wide eyes.

“Holy shit,” He hears one of them say.

Flash trips and Peter catches him, grabbing him by the neck of his t-shirt. He brings Flash down to his eye level, baring his teeth. Flash looks scared, but covers it underneath a mask of dislike. Peter snarls at him, fist clenching again. He knows he looks feral, like the person he was when he first arrived, like the person he tried so hard not to be anymore.

But-

Mr. Castle is back-

And Ben and Lisa are still dead-

And so are Maria and Frankie-

Peter is so angry-

And Flash is right there-

And he doesn’t care anymore.

missedfuneralsweekslongcomawoundsthatweren’ttherebefore

And is promptly separated from his bully, a firm hand on his shoulder as the other shoves Flash away.

The hand is accompanied by a familiar heartbeat.

Hi, Matt.

Hooded man, also known as Matt who definitely doesn’t have superpowers and also isn’t blind, tilts his head at Flash and his goons. His voice is low and gravely, his hand pinning Peter where he stands. “Go.”

Flash hesitates for a moment, but his friends are scared, one staring horrified at Peter as the other drags Flash away. They get up and run, Flash shooting Peter one last nasty look before he’s gone.

Matt then moves on to Peter.

The newspaper floats away in the wind.

Peter crosses his arms. 

“I thought you were supposed to be resting,” Matt finally spoke up, voice low.

“How did you find me?” Peter glares, still high on the adrenaline from the fight. It doesn’t matter if Matt can’t see it. It’s the thought that counts.

“I tracked Castle.”

Peter gapes at him. “What the fuck?”

“Language,” Matt admonishes, and Peter turns to face Ned, who’s standing there with Max, pale-faced and clutching the file. Max barks, and Peter makes a hold on gesture before turning to interrogate the blind man who honest-to-god looks homeless. He might be, considering Peter’s pretty sure he lives in a church. 

Also, why the hell was he tracking Castle?

Matt answers the question before Peter can ask it. “Sensed him. Was going to track your dog, but I sensed Castle when I got here. He led me straight to your apartment.”

Great. Absolutely great.

“If it’s any consolation,” Matt says, lips twitching slightly, “He’s not here now. He went back to Manhattan a few hours ago. I don’t believe he knows your other identity. As for finding you, I simply tracked your dog here.”

Peter scowls, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Can I ask you how you know Castle? Also how you can track a person across a city?”

Matt shrugs, hands on a white cane. “We were acquaintances. He shot me, I punched him, you know how it goes. As for the tracking, I’ve got pretty good hearing. Somewhat. It comes and goes.”

Okay.

Not suspicious.

At all.

Peter regards him. “What do you want?”

Matt fixes his glasses, little red lenses. “Well, considering you nearly died on the doorstep of an orphanage, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Sister Maggie made you go check on me.”

There’s a bit of silence. “Yeah, she did.”

Peter huffs a laugh, spreading his arms. “Well, I’m fine. No need to be rescued.”

“You got shot,” Matt tilts his head, scrunching his nose. “My guess is Castle. Also, you smell slightly of booze so I’m going to guess you found Jones.”

“Technically, she found me. Still not sure how, but she did.” Peter kicks a rock. “Also, I met Mr. Cage and his friend? He’s blonde. And very….excited.”

Matt chokes out a laugh, covering his mouth. “Yeah, that’s Danny. They’ll help you.”

Matt then nudges Peter with his cane. “That is, if you let them.”

Okay, first off-

“Who the fuck are you?” Peter demands, standing to his full height of 5’0. “Like, should I fight you or should I trust you, you’re givin’ me mixed signals.”

“I think I would win if we fought.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question you-”

“I know them because they helped me once,” Matt finally gives him a somewhat vague answer. “They helped me, but they don’t know I’m still around. That’s why I can’t help you. If I let people know I’m around, I’m a liability, not an ally.”

“Is that why you look like shit-”

“Okay, first off, screw you-”

“Hey guys,” Ned finally speaks up, pretty awkwardly from where he’s standing with Max, hand on the collar. “Um, so like, do you two know each other or…..?”

“Unfortunately.”

Peter won’t kick a blind man. Even if he really deserves it.

He drags a hand over his face. “He helped me out once. Saved my life. Now I guess he’s gonna stalk me for the rest of my life.”

Matt rolls his shoulders. “I’m here to give you some advice. And a warning. But yeah, you’ll probably see me again.”

Peter puts his hands on his hips. His binder digs into his ribs. It’s welcome after days of having to wear a sports bra. “Yeah? Well, I’m all ears, you strange bat-person.”

Matt almost smiles, but it’s hidden by a neutral expression. “Did some investigating for you. This whole having you as a suspect? It’s a front. The Feds know you didn’t do it, but they’re still going after you. Evidence of your guy is being deleted and witnesses are being told to shut up.”

Peter sighs, shoulders drooping. “I’m not surprised.”

“But what that means,” Matt continues, “is that the government had some prior knowledge of this thing. That, or someone who’s paying to keep their mouth shut.”

Someone who’s paying.

Hmmm.

“You don’t think it could be a crime lord?” Peter asks, eyes narrowed. “Makes sense because of the people it’s going after.”

The Punisher pissed off alot of people.

Matt nods his head slowly. “I’m going to keep an ear out, but if it’s truly someone who’s got the power and money, I can only really think..”

Matt trails off, but Peter comes to a realization that sends a jolt of dread down his spine. “No way! He’s in jail.”

“It doesn’t mean a thing,” Matt tells him grimly. “He’s still got the resources. I’ll try to figure it out, but if you manage to find out...if it’s truly Fisk….”

First a cannibalistic monster, then a murderous vigilante with ties to Peter’s past, and now a crime lord that literally controlled all of New York has a blind man worried that he’s controlling the monster.

Matt’s weird.

Really weird.

But there’s something about him that Peter feels like he can trust. He doesn’t know what it is, just that he can. 

It’s weird.

And yet.

“If I find out who it is,” Peter tells Matt, “I’ll tell you. Okay?”

Matt nods. “Okay.”

Then Peter squints his eyes. “Wait, is the entire reason you wanted to find me is because you’re afraid Jigsaw is connected to Fisk?”

Matt shrugs. 

Peter scoffs, backing away. “You’re weird, man.”

Ned has been watching all of this with an expression of pure confusion.

“Also,” Matt adjusts his glasses. “I’m not sure how Castle knows you. I don’t want to know how Castle knows you. But I am going to tell you this.”

There’s a little sadness in his tone now.

“He’s going to find out. It might be today, it might be tomorrow, but he will find out. And when he finds out,  he’s not going to be happy and he’s not going to be nice. It’s going to be awful and terrible, and I can only tell you one thing,” Matt leans closer to Peter, face full of pain and regret that’s almost familiar. “No matter what he says, no matter what happens, if you know what you’re doing is right, then don’t let him have a say in anything. He’s a goddamn hypocrite, and yeah, it’s going to feel like shit when he finds out, but he’s not just someone from your everyday life. He gets it, and therefore he doesn’t get to say shit.”

That’s….

That’s actually helpful.

Still not going to say anything, though.

Matt quirks his lips up again. “Be careful, alright? You know where to find me. Just..don’t tell anyone you ever met me, okay?”

Peter nods, then remembers that Matt is blind. “Yeah, okay. Go do your creepy stalking thing. I’ll tell you if I find anything.”

“Don’t let Castle ever see you in the suit with the dog,” Matt warns as Peter starts to walk off,  “Trust me on this one.”

“Byeeee!!.”

Matt inclines his head toward Ned, who’s still standing there confused and very alone, then turns around and walks in the opposite direction, cane tapping once in a while on the ground. He fades out of view, disappearing off in the trees.

Peter clips the leash to Max, raising an eyebrow at Ned. “Yeah?”

Ned splutters, finally erupting the mountain of questions that he’s been holding back. “Who was that? How did he know you? What do you mean the Punisher shot you? You met Luke Cage and Jessica Jones? What did he mean by Fisk? You know the Punisher?”

Peter starts walking, Ned hurrying beside him. “That’s Matt. Saved my life. Punisher shot me ‘cause he thought I was bad. Jessica Jones found me and I think Luke Cage saved me from the Punisher. Fisk might be behind Jigsaw. I’m not telling you how I know the Punisher.”

Ned slows down. Peter keeps going.

“You really know the Punisher.”

That’s what he latches onto.

Peter stops, halting Max. He turns and spins, facing Ned. Ned’s looking at him, with an unreadable expression on his face. “Frank Castle didn’t kill my uncle.”

Ned’s shoulders loosen slightly.

“But I’m not telling you how I know him,” Peter adds, “Okay?”

Ned hesitates, then nods his head. “But you have to tell me later, okay? You can tell me things.”

“I know,” Peter holds out the leash, “But I kinda need you to watch my dog.”

Ned’s eyes light up and Peter grins.

❁

“You’re going with Castle,” Jessica snaps at him, “Make sure he doesn’t kill anyone.”

“Wait, why?” Peter’s in his suit, on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen. Jessica had stopped him before he made it to Fogwell’s, informing him that Castle was on the ‘fucking warpath’ and Peter needed to catch the fuck up.

“I can’t go,” Jessica scowls at him, “Damn creature set shit on fire in the Lower East Side. Trying to distract us. Luke and Danny are there, but Castle’s convinced that he knows where the next target is and he’s going there.”

“Dinah Madani,” Peter realizes and Jessica nods. Sirens are in the air, and now that Jessica’s mentioned it, he can smell smoke in the distance. He can smell ozone in the air, clouds gathering dark and threatening. It’s going to storm soon. 

“Apparently, friendly neighborhood serial killer thinks that Jigsaw or whatever you’ve named it, is coming after him. Refuses to share with the rest of the class and nearly bit off Luke’s hand when he tried to get him to stay.” Jessica sighs. “I dunno what he was doing last night after you left, but he showed up at my apartment this morning and I nearly killed him, so you go have fun.”

Peter knows where Homeland Security is, he’s about to go, but something stops him. “Wait, why did you nearly kill him?”

Jessica rolls her eyes. “He shot you. I’m still pissed about that.”

Awwwwww.

Peter makes a cooing noise and Jessica throws a rock at him. “Go do your fucking job, Parker.”

“I love you too, Jones!” Peter calls out, snickering as Jessica throws another rock at him. “Have fun!”

“Don’t get shot again! I won’t be there to help you!”

Peter’s already out of earshot, parkouring and swinging to the building. He fixed his web shooters, and he’s left the watch at home. Too big and Mr. Castle might recognize it. Sirens fill the air, heading toward the flames. Briefly, Peter wonders if Jessica sent him after Castle just so he would stay out of Jigsaw’s way. Which is nice.

Ned has Max. Or, in better terms, Max dragged Ned all the way back to his house. Peter just needs Ned to watch him for the night. Then Peter can go pick him up. Ned’s pretty excited about watching Max.

He got a text from Leo. She sends him memes. A lot of science ones. This time she told him that Aaron had been attempting to make pancakes, but set the kitchen on fire. It was a grease fire. Started by olive oil. Pancakes don’t use grease.

Peter is doubting his decision to leave Leo and Zach with Aaron.

Zach’s doing better, though. He and Peter actually talked over the phone and Peter told him how he fought the Rhino. Zach seemed okay. Still shaken up, but okay.

Peter needs to take this guy down.

Air splitting through his ears, Peter picks up on the heartbeat and footsteps he’s looking for.

Controlled breathing.

Gunmetal.

Measured heartbeat.

It’s him.

There’s an open window. He’s not sure how, but there is one.

He slips inside.

And comes face to face with the Punisher.

Well, face to mask.

He’s wearing that skull vest. 

The Punisher glares at him. There’s surprise and wariness in those eyes. “What-”

“Jess sent me after you,” Peter shrugs, careful to lower his voice. His heartbeat skyrockets and he can’t help himself from fidgeting with his gloves. They are literally the only part of his suit that isn’t damaged. “Said you left.”

The Punisher scowls, hands on a gun. Peter totally doesn’t freak out about it. Nope. “Go home.”

“Can’t,” Peter tries to be brave. Tries to pretend that this isn’t Mr. Castle. He doesn’t know him.  “The thing-it’s in Chinatown. It might come over here.”

The Punisher looms over him. 

He doesn’t look anything like Mr. Castle.

Peter stands up straight, shoulders tense as he stares straight back into dark eyes.

 if you know what you’re doing is right, then don’t let him have a say in anything

Finally, finally, the Punisher breaks. He stands back, still glaring at Peter. “Stay the hell out of my way.”

Then he stalks off, footsteps thudding against the linoleum as he holds his gun steady, disappearing up the stairwell.

“Reason number 32 I’m not telling him my secret identity,” Peter mutters under his breath, following the man wearing a black coat with a bulletproof vest. 

He’s a goddamn hypocrite.

Ears still roaring with blood, he doesn’t notice the cameras, blinking red as he takes the stairs two at a time.