Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part I: The Question

"I don't want to see him."

"He's your father."

Was my father. The retort died on my lips. I couldn't disown him - not now, not ever, no matter what.

"Honey…" Mom clasped my hands as our eyes misted over for the umpteenth time since - "Your dad loves us. He did what he thought was best."

"Yeah, well, what he thought was best ruined our lives." Resentment breached the words despite my attempt to hide it. Senior year was destined to be the best, not worst, of my life. Priorities shifted from grades, prom, and college to uprooting and moving to Oregon in the middle of the semester - another repercussion of Dad's actions Mom and I had suffered the brunt of.

"Please, hon...we're the only family your father has. I'm upset, too, but once you see him you'll realize how sorry he is for putting you and I through this - which is why he wants us to start over. I'm sure talking to him will change how you feel and remind you why you love him."

I doubt it. "Fine." I dropped her hands. Unsure what to do, Mom busied them by twisting her slim, gold wedding band with its blaze of diamonds around her finger. Was that, too, paid with blood money? Probably. How else could he have sustained our lifestyle? "But I'm not promising anything good will come out of it."

She nodded. "I know...just go in and see him. He's waiting for you, and we don't have much time." I glanced at the clock: noon. Mom was right; our flight left in three hours.

My footsteps echoed down the corridor, amplified by nerves, the vast hall, or both. Corrections officers prowled the premises with guns, truncheons, and stony glares, their chests puffed with bravado. Crossing my arms, I brushed aside a wayward lock of hair, ignoring inmates with sordid fantasies in their eyes. There was a brittle calm before the storm; a pin drop could precipitate chaos in a place cold, hard, and forbidding like the men it detained.

Men like my dad.

Never in a million years did I imagine him here. I covered my mouth, blinking back tears at the sight of him in shackles and a white jumpsuit, fingers drumming along the table. Besides fading cuts and bruises, he didn't seem different, yet he was - we both were.

His face split into a weary smile. "Hey there, hon."

"D-Dad?" I croaked, staggering toward him. His open arms invited me for a hug I accepted, to our mutual surprise, and I realized how much I missed him. Loved him. Mom was right. Eventually, we separated, resigned to the fact this surreal moment must end.

"Have a seat." He indicated the chair beside me. I collapsed into it, speechless still. How could this man build and sell intergalactic weapons of mass destruction during the day, then come home to kiss me goodnight like nothing was wrong?

"How are you doing?"

All I wanted to know was, "Why?"

Sighing, he averted his gaze. "Liz…"

"No." He could keep the BS because I wanted - deserved - the truth. "Why did you do this?"

He raised his head. "I needed to provide for my family."

"Through crime?"

Warmth drained from his eyes. "Revenge. If the Department of Damage Control hadn't interfered with my business, none of this would have happened, and we wouldn't be sitting here today."

"Ever since the Battle of New York, you've been doing this? You lied to us for eight years?"

"I thought what I did was right."

"But it wasn't!"

His fist cracked on the table, startling me, and the officer nearby edged closer. I dodged quizzical glances thrown our way. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped, remorse tempering his face and voice when he spoke again. "I'm sorry, honey, for everything, but how else was I going to feed you, clothe you, provide for you? I had to think about your future - how was I going to to put you through school when Hoag and her associates took away the very thing that made it possible? I had to do what I had to do."

Despite his conviction, Dad's modus operandi didn't compute. "Why didn't you tell us? Mom could've helped, I could have gotten a job and paid some bills -"

"I didn't tell you or your Mom because I didn't want you to worry. I'm your father; I'm supposed to take care of you, not the other way around. I'm not proud of what I've done, but I had no other option." The chair groaned when he leaned back. "My pride got the best of me."

"And that may cost you a life behind bars." A crystal ball didn't need to tell me he wouldn't be back home in a long time, if ever.

"It's a price I'm willing to pay."

Tears gushed from my eyes. "You're going to miss everything, Dad. My graduation, sending me off to college, my wedding...everything! Doesn't that bother you?"

"It doesn't 'bother' me - it's tearing me apart, and I'm sorry I won't be there to cherish those special moments." The apology couldn't rewind the hands of time, as much as we wanted. "But you've got good people on the outside looking out for you. You have your Mom, your friends, Peter -"

"Parker?" I scoffed. "He stood me up at Homecoming. I can care less about him." Yes, I could, but couldn't - I really liked him, and wanted things between us to work, but how could they after his grand disappearing act? My senior homecoming dance, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, was ruined forever courtesy of Peter.

"For good reason."

"Please enlighten me, Dad."

He shook his head. "It's not my place to tell you - it's his. And if he doesn't, you're smart enough to figure it out for yourself."

"I doubt he'll tell me. He's so secretive." Pursuing romance with an immature sophomore was a mistake I'd never repeat. "Not that it matters. I'm over him." My innards squirmed at the lie.

"That Peter Parker...he's a good kid. I have a lot of respect for him."

I frowned, recalling the ride to Homecoming. "You only met him once, and even then, things were so tense between you two."

He shrugged, chuckling. "Well, things are supposed to be tense when a guy takes my daughter out for the night. He left a good impression. But-" He stared at me pointedly. "Stay away from him."

I stood. "You don't have to tell me twice."

Dad rose with a clink of chains. "No, Liz," he insisted. "I'm serious. For your own good. I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but it's best you move to Oregon and don't come back."

I nodded like I understood. "Okay, Dad."

The ominous note we parted on bothered me. Why was he so adamant I never return to New York?

I promised to keep in touch; Dad vowed to keep us updated, although the media always beat him to it. I left in a hat and sunglasses, a disguise contrived by mom and I to thwart the paparazzi. Dad's arrest had garnered national attention, thrusting us into the limelight; it wasn't until then I realized I took privacy and anonymity for granted. Hopefully in Oregon I could walk the streets without being pursued like a gazelle on the African savanna.

Mom hailed a taxi. "JFK, please," she told the driver as we clambered into the backseat, asking me "How'd it go?" as I buckled up.

"I'm going to miss him."

She nodded, expecting no different. My eyes were drooping when my phone vibrated against my thigh. I rummaged through my bag - why'd I carry so much junk in it? - hastily extracting it. Swiping the screen and pressing it against my ear I murmured, tentatively, "Ned?"

"No. It's Peter."

I rolled my eyes. Clever boy. I should hang up now, but decided to give him another chance - perhaps one too many. "Oh. You." I sneered.

"Liz, I'm sorry about everything."

"You've said sorry so many times its lost it's meaning. You left me at the dance, Peter."

"I did. I wish I could tell you why, but I can't."

My eyes narrowed. "Why are you acting so weird? Do you not trust me?"

He hesitated before replying. "It isn't that."

"Then why waste our time?"

"I'm not asking you to forgive me, Liz; I'm asking you to understand."

"Well, help me!"

"I'm not who you think I am. I want to be with you, but I can't. It's for your protection."

"From what? Who? My dad told me to stay away from you but I don't know -" Our trip to DC flashed before my eyes, of Peter going MIA before the team and I visited the Washington Monument, where Spider-Man rescued us from a plunge to certain death. What were the odds of him and the webslinger - whose stomping ground was the Big Apple - both being at the nation's capital?

Then the dance. Peter bailed at the start, hours before Mom's hysterical call about Dad's detainment by police. What was my runaway date doing all that time?

I glanced at Mom, too engrossed with her own phone to pay my conversation any mind. Still, I lowered my voice, proceeding with caution. "You're him, aren't you? Spider-Man? You put my Dad in prison?"

I didn't need to see Peter agonize over this; his silence was enough. I waited for (no, wanted) him to deny it, laugh at the joke it was, but instead he asked, "Do you hate me for it?"

Chapter Text

Part II: The Answer

"Liz, you still there?"

"I'll - I'll talk to you later."

"What? Liz -"

I tapped the end call icon. Abrupt, I know, but this conversation was too heavy to hold over the phone. I set my cell down and slouched into the seat, mind reeling. He's lying! it insisted, but my heart told me he wasn't. Why would he? Try as I might, I couldn't dismiss Peter's words - his conviction denied me that choice and left only trust. Could that alone validate the truth?

My life isn't crazy. It's mundane, and trivial. I frowned as reality snapped into perspective. What mattered to me didn't to the rest of the world. While I fretted over exams, the Academic Decathalon, and Homecoming, Peter fought crime to keep New Yorkers safe - and I'd been pissed at him over some stupid dance.

"Liz?" Mom's voice breached my thoughts. "Are you okay?" Her forehead crinkled with concern.

I nodded.

"You don't look like it. Who were you talking to?"

"Betty." No way I was divulging Peter's secret because (1) it wasn't mine to tell and (2) Mom wouldn't believe me if I did.

She stared until I couldn't stand it. "I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled to the window.

"Alright. I'll back off." She raised her hands. "But just remember that you can always talk to me about anything. It's not healthy to bottle up your emotions."

I nodded again, grateful she hadn't pried.

We rode in tense silence until we reached our destination. The airport swarmed with harried travelers, forcing us to wait until a slot along the curb cleared for us to unload. The sky flashed white, preceding a distant rumble of thunder as we lugged our bags inside, my duffel swinging with each step.

Mom scoffed at the flight information board. "I can't believe this! Thanks to the weather, our flight's been cancelled."

Big surprise. I readjusted the strap biting into my shoulder. "What are we going to do?"

She glanced at me with an exasperated huff, brows furrowed. "I guess we'll find somewhere to crash for the night and see if we can catch a flight in the morning." We trudged to the hotel reservation desk to book a one-night stay nearby, and were, once again, cramming our bags and ourselves into a taxi. Fifteen minutes later, Mom was checking in while I kept my head on the swivel. Will we be recognized? Thankfully, concierge issued keys and directed us to the elevators without incident.

We had barely settled into our suite when I told Mom I was taking a walk.

Mom shook her head. "No, you're not. It's too dangerous."

"But Mom. This is our last night at the place I've called home my entire life. I promise I'll be careful."

Finally, she relented. "Fine."

"Thank you!" Flinging my arms around her, I planted a big, sloppy kiss on her cheek. Before I could rush out the door, she clasped my shoulders, riveting me to place.

"Remember: we have an early flight tomorrow. Don't be too long."

"I won't."

"Good."

She let me go. When the vestibule doors slid open, I shivered, accosted by wind with a nascent winter chill.

Dad's words resonated in me. I shouldn't be doing this. Did he know I was defying him right this second? Probably. My stomach twinged with dread, which I ignored. I was a big girl, now, capable of making decisions for myself. The cancelled flight was one last shot at redemption I wouldn't miss.

The cab dropped me off a block away from Peter and Aunt May's apartment. I scurried toward it, sidestepping puddles, head bowed and shoulders hunched against squalls of frigid rain. Cars lined the street, in front of brownstones with yards demarcated by rusty chain-link fences. The wind blasted my hood back, rain drenching me within seconds before I could yank it back up. Ugh. My hair had already started to frizz. I rushed inside, up two flights then down a dim corridor before reaching the door.

I knocked; finally, it opened. Amber light poured into the hall, casting Aunt May's shadow onto the floor; her eyes swept over me as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Liz - Peter's friend from school."

Her grin set me at ease. "Pleased to finally meet you, Liz. Peter's told me a lot about you. Come on in." She shook my hand then stepped aside, waving me in.

My jaw dropped. "He did?" How flattering. I lowered my hood and kneaded my hands to restore circulation while she locked the door. A blast of heat from the radiator enveloped me, and my skin tingled.

"Of course! He absolutely adores you. Now I see why." Beaming in approval, May shoved her glasses into place with her knuckle. "Peter! You have a visitor."

"Ned?" He emerged from his room, stopped short, and gulped, staring.

I wiggled my fingers at him, smiling coyly. "Hey."

"Hey."

We stood in awkward silence until Aunt May said, "Well, Peter, aren't you going to entertain your guest?"

He blinked. "Oh! Yeah. Yeah. Liz, follow me." He beckoned me down the hall, casting words over his shoulder as he led me to his bedroom. "Sorry' I wasn't expecting visitors."

"Don't be. Sorry for popping up unannounced." Clothes lay scattered across the floor and his unmade bed. Books teetered on his desk and a box of obsolete electronics sat in the corner under a blanket of dust. Typical. Removing my jacket, I gravitated toward a chair. "Is it alright if I hang this here?"

He nodded. "I thought you'd be on your way to Oregon by now."

"Flight got cancelled."

"Why?"

"Inclement weather." I pointed at the rain pelting the windowpane. "Or haven't you noticed?"

He gazed outside, then at me, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I do now. Sorry. Uh, would you like to sit down?"

"Sure. If there's somewhere to sit?" I looked around.

"Haha, very funny. My bed's right behind you." He cleared a space for me, and down I went.

"Thanks."

"You shouldn't be here, you know," he admonished with his arms over his chest.

"I shouldn't...but I want to be." I acknowledged the elephant in the room before it crushed us. "So...you're him? Spider-Man?"

"Yeah. Pretty hard to believe, huh?"

My eyes slowly traversed his body. "Not really." Wow, he's cut. In school, he hid it behind hoodies and jeans, but here, his physique was on grand display in a tank top and shorts. Ten brownie points for Parker.

"You never answered my question, you know."

Blinking, I dragged my eyes back to his. "What do you think?"

He gawked at me. "What do I think?"

"I don't hate you, Peter. I mean, I wish things had worked out better for Dad, and I was angry you stood me up at the dance, but you did what you had to do. Now I know why, getting upset is..." I shrugged. "...petty. Besides, do you think I'd be here if I was?"

He chuckled in relief. "No, I guess not." A pause. "Do you have any questions...about me?"

I've got plenty. "How and when did all this happen? Why did you do this? Does anyone else know?" I gasped, eyes widening. "Oh my gosh, does Aunt May -"

Peter raised his hands. "Slow down, Liz! I can only answer one question at a time."

I cringed. "Sorry."

He plunged right in: he got his superpowers from a radioactive spider bite during a school trip, but didn't become the masked vigilante until after Uncle Ben's death. He caught Tony Stark's eye after Spider-Man videos went viral on the Internet, and even fought alongside him during the Civil War against Captain America and his fellow renegade Avengers. He had inadvertently blown his cover when Ned saw him in the suit, but Leeds, of course, was cool with it. And no, Aunt May wasn't privy to any of this, and he preferred it stayed that way.

"Wow, Peter," I said once he finished. "This, this is amazing. I'm surprised Ned kept your secret as long as he has." It's a wonder our friend hadn't blabbed by now.

"Me too." His expression turned serious. "And I trust you'll do the same?"

I mimed sealing my lips, locking them, and tossing the key. "Your secret's safe with me."

Another long silence ensued as I plucked a loose thread from his duvet and mulled over everything. "Peter, I'm sorry for how I treated you. It wasn't cool."

"It's okay." He shrugged. "I deserved it."

"No, you didn't. You were doing what was right, and I appreciate that."

Peter nodded. "You know, before my uncle died, he told me with great power comes with great responsibility; I try to live by that creed everyday. Being Spider-Man...It's a blessing and a curse."

"I can imagine."

He looked me square in the face. "Liz, if there's anything I can do to make up for all of the crappy things I've done to you, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"Well, there is one thing." I jumped up, him twice as quickly. "You still owe me a dance."

"Oh. Right." He massaged the nape of his neck, grimacing, face flushing. "Uh, I'm not a very good dancer."

"I'm not, either. It doesn't matter. No one can see us." He took my hand, and with the other I pulled out my phone and selected My Boy My Town by Mabel from my playlist. My head bobbed to the beat suffusing the silence, the lyrics speaking for me. For us. Peter drew me close, and I rested my cheek on his shoulder as we swayed with the melody. We must've looked like idiots, but I didn't care; being alone with him was utter bliss, despite the lack of Homecoming glitz and glamour.

Time had slowed to a standstill. We held onto each other to keep ourselves upright long after the song ended, unwilling to relinquish the moment.

"Do you have any more questions?" Peter murmured.

"Just one more."

He waited.

"I guess we can't see each other anymore?"

I had killed the mood. Peter frowned, his hand creeping behind his head once more. "No, I don't think so. I can't have another death on my conscience."

Although I expected this, it hurt no less. "So this is goodbye, then." It wasn't a question, but a weary admission of defeat.

We both got what we needed - me, closure; him, absolution. Except...

Peter sighed. "I'm doing this not because I don't love you, but because I love you too much."

"I know..."

We were now inches apart. I slung my arms over his shoulders as his encircled my waist, heat radiating from his hands pressed into the small of my back. He tilted his head up, leveled his eyes with mine. Before I drowned in them, he kissed me, crushing me to him so not even an atom could pass between us, our lips moving in perfect synchrony.

The kiss was bittersweet, fleeting yet interminable, and when we broke apart, I yearned for more. But I knew the longer I stayed, the easier it would be for us to renege on our respective promises. As I lingered in Peter's arms, tears started to fall.

It was time to break both our hearts.

"Please don't cry." He sounded on the brink of it himself.

"I need to go." I stepped past him with a sniffle, reclaiming my jacket - still damp - and slipping into it, steeling myself for the imminently inevitable. "Good bye." I despised the finality of those words.

"Where are you staying?" Peter followed me to the front door. "I'll walk you back if you want."

"It's okay." I didn't need him making this harder than it already was. I grasped the doorknob.

Aunt May emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a frayed dishtowel. "Leaving so soon?"

I turned. "Yeah. I have an early flight tomorrow."

She slapped the rag over the back of a chair, grabbing her car keys. "Need a ride home?"

"Thanks, but I'll be fine," I insisted.

She froze. "You sure? It's pretty nasty out there."

"That's very kind, but I'll be alright. I appreciate it, though."

May frowned; she knew she fought a losing battle. "Well, it was nice meeting you." She spread her arms. I collapsed into them and squeezed, reluctant to let go. "I hope to see you again."

We separated. "Same." Peter and I exchanged glances, knowing our reunion would remain in reverie. "Good night." On the verge of tears, monosyllables were all I could muster. I crossed the threshold for the last time, and when the door shut behind me, I knew it was over.

The End