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Jefferson turned his back on the mess that was the pawn shop’s storefront. A couple of thugs had fired shots through its front window, hoping to take out Jefferson or someone else on his force. He’d heard his fair share of people muster up pitiful sympathy for criminals, but he just couldn’t do the same. Not when he knew that most wouldn’t hesitate to send a bullet straight through him, just to save their own skins. But then, without his permission, a memory of Aaron flared up, and he was once again reminded that the world didn’t operate in blacks and whites, but instead in shades of grey.
The glass of the shop’s front window had shattered, sending shards flying across the pavement. The pieces caught and refracted the flashing red and blue of the police lights. It was starting to give Jefferson a headache.
He hated to admit it, but Jefferson was grateful to see Spider-Man on the scene. His co-workers were capable, no doubt about it, but the less loss they experienced the better.
Jefferson finally reached his cop car and looked around for New York’s little vigilante. He spotted him, prying one of the robbers free of the webbing that stuck him to the ceiling. With a solid tug, the thug fell from the webs and right into the waiting arms of his co-workers. The sight was so strange that he couldn’t help but laugh.
He could swear that Spidey could hear him because no sooner had the sound left his lips, did Spidey's head whip up. His neck craned forward as if he was searching for something. It was rather convenient, Jeff had been wanting to talk to Spider-Man for a long time now and here he was searching for him.
Jefferson raised an arm and called through the midst of sirens and squad cars, “Spider-Man!”
The superhero finally looked in Jeff’s direction and the eyes of his suit compressed as if they were being crinkled by a smile. Two web slings later and Spider-Man landed about an inch away from Jefferson. He willed himself not to roll his eyes, how hard was it for Spider-Man to just walk like the rest of them?
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite officer?” Spidey said, shoving his hands in his pockets and falling back on his heels.
The action was decidedly childish and served as only another reminder of the conversation that he’d been meaning to have with the masked crusader.
Keep it professional Jeff.
“Spider-Man,” Jefferson said, nodding to Spidey while holding the brim of his cap.
“Those guys were crazy right?” Spider-Man asked, as if they were old friends. “It’s like they never learn. I mean who tries to rob a place that’s a block from the police station?”
Spider-Man elbowed Jefferson in his side and he was surprised to feel it carry quite the impact. Spider-Man was already babbling on before Jefferson could even think to reprimand him for the action.
“They make our job too easy if you know what I mean—”
Jeff held out a hand, to stop the kid mid-sentence because honestly, his head was starting to spin.
“Hold on there for a second, let’s get a couple of things straight, why don’t we? Firstly you’re a vigilante and I’m an officer so you can forget about the whole our job thing, secondly, we need to talk.”
Without even bothering to look back, Spidey hopped onto the trunk of the police cruiser. Jefferson didn’t know whether to be irritated or appreciative.
“I’m listening,” Spider-Man said.
Jefferson had to take a minute to gather himself, he hadn’t expected Spidey to cooperate so easily. In fact, he had prepared himself for a fair amount of wrangling and desperate attempts at a conversation over the course of multiple encounters, but no. Spider-Man just sat there, legs dangling and barely long enough to reach the bottom of his car's bumper. If only Jefferson could get Miles to sit down and talk to him like this. He shook his head at the thought, he had to focus. Spidey now, Miles later, he could only take care of one teenager at a time.
Jefferson grabbed at his belt, twisting it around his chest while straightening his form. Spider-Man may have caught a quick advantage, but it was time for him to regain control of the situation.
Jefferson cleared his throat before saying, “as a man of the law, it’s my job to protect the citizens of New York and that includes you. So, it’s my duty to ask--do your parents know about you being Spider-Man?”
In seconds, Spider-Man’s entire demeanor shifted. His legs went rigid and the eyes of his masks blinked at an alarming rate, almost like the shutter of a camera.
“O-kaayy officer, I think I’m gonna be hitting the road now.”
Spider-Man hopped to stand on the hood of the cruiser and extended a single, gangling arm upward. If Jeff let Spider-Man take off now, who knew the next time he'd see him; the superhero could be quite elusive when he wanted.
Jefferson knew he would be crossing the line of professionalism if he followed through with what he thinking, heck he’d practically be bounding over it. He also knew this kid could easily pick him up and fling him the length of the Brooklyn Bridge. In the end, though, Jefferson could see no other option, he just cared too much.
He darted forward and secured a firm grip on Spideyś wrist, the one that was dangling on his left side and within Jeffersonś reach.
Spider-Man looked at his caught hand then back at Jefferson, the eyes of his mask almost triple their usual size. He was seemingly stunned and Jefferson saw the opportunity to make one last-ditch effort.
Still holding on to Spidey, nice and slow, so that it could sink in, he repeated his question.
"Do. Your. Parents. Know?"
Spider-Man looked down on Jefferson, the cloudy night sky of New York City, backing his figure. Jefferson was prepared for anything, he should be with a situation as unpredictable as this. He had backed the vigilante into a corner which meant he could expect the following: fight, flight, or a third option, which he was really hoping for, forfeit.
Jefferson felt as if he could almost see past the eyes of Spidey's mask and looked deeper. With all his heart and soul he willed Spider-Man to just answer the question.
Spider-Man gave a short and stunted answer.
"No."
As Spider-Man said it, he practically deflated. All the fight went out of him and he fell back to sit on the cop car with a sigh. Jefferson winced at the heavy sound of his body hitting the vehicle. That certainly wouldn't buff out too easy.
Jefferson released Spider-Man’s wrist and in response, he leaned back against the back window of the car with a melodramatic sigh. The superhero folded his arms over each other and tilted his head to the night sky. Jefferson resisted the urge to put his hands on the superhero's shoulders, no matter what he felt, this was a serious inquiry and should be treated as so.
Instead, he remained silent, hoping Spider-Man would feel the need to feel the spaces in their conversation, and it worked.
Without even being prompted, Spider-Man looked far up into the night sky and said, “my dad doesn’t even like Spider-Man, he thinks he’s a menace.”
All of a sudden, Spider-Man didn’t sound like the confident superhero who had it all under control, now he sounded like the gangling, pre-pubescent, crime-fighting, adolescent that he was.
For a second Jefferson considered how hard it could be for Spider-Man to live his double life. It made his heart ache to think about just how much weight was bearing down upon the little superheroes shoulders.
He couldn’t dwell on it long though because it looked like Spider-Man was starting to think that he’d said too much and he was looking to Jefferson, now. Jefferson struggled for an answer and finally said, “Spider-Man or not he should care about his son.”
Almost to himself, he added, “I know I would.”
Spider-Man perked up at this and his back straightened up and off of the cruiser’s back window. His arms dropped as he asked, “really, would you?”
Spidey’s eye slits were so wide and hopeful, that without hesitation Jefferson said, “yes.”
“So,” Spider-Man said, dragging out the syllable, “do you think I should tell them, no matter the reaction?”
“Yup,” Jefferson said, “no matter the reaction.”
“And you really think he’d still see me as his son?”
“I would,” Jefferson reasserted.
Jefferson was distantly aware of the surrounding crime scene coming to a close, the criminals had been driven away and the place was clearing out. Jefferson was looking forward to seeing what his wife had whipped up for dinner and he was looking forward to seeing his wife, in general.
Spider-Man didn’t respond and Jefferson thought that this might be the end of it. He had a feeling that he may have actually gotten through to the vigilante and that wherever and whenever he went to sleep tonight, that he’d actually consider their conversation. Jeff was ready to count the conversation as a job well done, but Spidey didn’t seem to be very interested in moving.
Instead, he took a big breath, looked at Jefferson, and in the most serious voice that he had ever heard from him, said, “dad, I’m Spider-Man.”
At first, Jefferson was stunned, but then he got it and said, “that was a good start maybe when you tell him you should try being less blunt.”
Spidey shook his head and Jefferson expected him to make one of his signature quips, turn invisible, and sling away like he always did. Instead, he just sat on the hood of his police car, staring at Jefferson.
Then Spidey took another deep breath and said, “I know how you feel about vigilantism and all but you’re my dad and I think you should know—I think you should know that your son is Spider-Man.”
Spidey looked up at Jeff expectantly and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was completely at a loss here, obviously, the superhero wanted something from him, but Jefferson just didn’t know what.
Spidey was still waiting for an answer though so Jefferson scratched the back of his neck and said, “that one was better. “
Spider-Man put his head in his hands and full out groaned. Okay, so not the right thing. Jefferson was starting to get impatient. Of course, he’d like to be there for Spider-Man, all of New York did, but words weren’t exactly his strong suit and they’d be here all night if Spider-Man was looking to him for that kind of advice.
“Look Spider-Man, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re looking to get from me. I don’t think I’m the right guy for this kind of thing.”
“You’re literally the only guy for this kind of thing!” Spidey said, hopping off the car and flinging his arms wide.
“I’m not sure I understand—“
Spider-Man leaned in close, so close that Jefferson could see the shimmering patterns of his suit.
He looked left, then right and then, in a whisper that Jeff could just barely hear, he said, “I am your son, Miles, and I am Spider-Man.”
Jefferson doesn’t even have to question whether or not it was the truth, he knew that voice, knew it’s dips and rises and inflections. He hated that it had taken him this long to recognize it, but then again who thinks that their son would be Spider-Man? Plus with that stupid accent, he had going on—but still, Jefferson should have known.
After gaping like a fish, for almost a solid ten seconds, all Jefferson is able to come up with is, “Miles?”
“Yes, finally,” his son said, his posture slackening, as he retreated back a few steps, “I thought we were gonna be here all night.”
Jefferson couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping open, once again, the real shock of the revelation hitting him now. Seeing, Miles’ easy gestures in Spider-Man’s movements and hearing the wisecracking humor in Spider-Man’s quips made his knees weak. Jefferson couldn't help but run through all the interactions he’d had with the hero. To think his son had been right there all along…
It seemed to finally hit Spider-Man that Jefferson now knew who was under the mask because all of a sudden his shoulders went tight and his hands began to twitch by his sides. Jefferson knew those mannerisms, Miles was about to bolt.
“Mi—I mean Spider-Man wait!”
Before Jefferson could even get halfway through his exclamation, Spider-Man flickered out of view.
Jefferson jumped as his son spoke to him, his voice seeming to come from the nighttime air.
“Have a good shift officer, see you around.”
Jefferson leaped forward, grasping for his son, but the only thing that fell between his fingers was the light breeze stirred up by Spidey swinging away. Jefferson knew the truth now, and while it was for the better, it sure did nothing to settle the swirl of emotions that currently inhabited his chest.
…
So his son was Spider-Man. That was something, Jefferson certainly hadn’t expected to hear that night. However, he had to look forward, Spider-Man--his son--needed him. If he had learned anything from the conversation that he and Spidey had earlier, it was that Miles he was scared, scared that Jefferson wouldn’t love him even half as much as he did before he knew. Miles needed to know, that mask on or off, Jefferson would die before he stopped loving him and even beyond the grave, to be honest.
'No Jeff,' he chided himself, tightening his grip on the steering wheel, ‘you don’t want to freak him out.’
What were you supposed to say your son, after he told you that he had superpowers and saved the city at least twice a month? When Jefferson pulled into his parking spot, he still didn’t know the answer. Nevertheless, he needed to be home, needed to be there so that he could let his son know, as soon as possible, that he was still his son.
Jefferson wrung his hands all the way up the steps of his apartment. As he arrived at his front door, he blew out a breath and rubbed his palms down the front of his pants. It didn’t matter how he felt, he reminded himself, Miles was his main priority right now.
As Jefferson ducked through the front door, he was greeted with yet another surprise. Rio sat at the dining room table, her face soft and her hand enveloping Miles’. And Miles...Miles had the audacity to duck his head when his eyes caught Jefferson’s.
Jefferson was about to ask if Rio knew, but then she looked up and he saw the tears in her eyes and her exasperated smile. He knew exactly how she felt and the same feelings were most likely swirling around in her too. They were pleased that their son was protecting the city, caring for its citizens, just like his mom and old man. There was also guilt for not recognizing Miles as the masked crusader earlier, rage at every supervillain who had dared to lay a hand on their son, and so much worry at what could so easily happen to Miles. However, atop all of this, covering everything like a buzzing blanket, were the strongest surges of pride that Jefferson had ever felt.
Jefferson came around the side of the table and before Miles could say anything he wrapped one arm around his wife and the other around his son. There would be time for rules and lectures later. Right now, Jefferson just wanted to let his family know that he loved them and that nothing could get in the way of that.
He still saw that spark in his son, saw it more than anything right now; it burned so bright that Jefferson could barely look at him straight. He and Rio had made Miles and Miles, in turn, was making the world better. Jefferson’s legacy lay in his son and as long as Miles kept that spark burning, he knew that he’d leave this Earth with his son being his greatest accomplishment.