Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Peter! I’m home!” You call out as you lock the door to your apartment and place your keys in the bowl by the door. 

There is movement in the kitchen.

You were exhausted after the twelve hour shift in the emergency room but Rio was the doctor on duty with you and Aunt May brought you coffee when it was her shift so you could make it through.

“I’m going to pass out, wake me up when it’s dinner or breakfast or whatever food time it is.” You yawn as you kick off your shoes and make your way towards the shower. You take off your glasses and rub your eyes as you yawn once more.

You expect to hear some sort of quip from your husband but you don’t and that is enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. 

Peter often joked about how if your hair could, it would puff up like the cat you named yourself after; how you had a cat sense the way he had a spidersense. 

You keep walking to your bedroom. 

If you can get to the bedroom, you can get the metal bat. 

You’re out of the Black Cat kevlar and if it’s just a burglar, you don’t want to risk an identity leak. It would be catastrophic for Peter if that were to happen. 

Through the living room…

More than if the world found out he was Spider-Man.

Past the hall closet…

The footsteps followed you but you maintained a steady course. 

Almost there…

Your sense of danger, the coldness that creeps down your spine, you spin around just as your nails elongate just long enough to be sharp but not fully released. 

The Green Goblin is before you and he merely cackles as catches your wrist and held up a pumpkin bomb in your face.

Everything went white and all you could hear before it went black was the ringing in your ear.

You wake up to the sound of traffic and the cold wind tearing through your scrubs.

You blink the stars and flashing lights out of your eyes as you try to regain your bearings. 

“Qu-Queensboro Bridge.” Your palms started to sweat as you looked down at the traffic underneath you. 

As accustomed as you are to soaring through New York with Peter as Spider-Man and Black Cat, you don’t want to be this high up when you have neither your grappling gun or your kevlar and leather suit or your husband to catch you.

You heard the cackling and the shrieking of the hoverboard before you ducked, one of the Goblin’s batarangs (okay so they weren’t your father’s but they were a knock off) ricocheted off the supports where your head was. 

“The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout. Down came the Goblin and took the spider out.” Green Goblin let a missile fire from his hoverboard and blew up part of the Queensboro Bridge, causing multiple car accidents and the cable car to snap.

You feel your heart clench as you see there are children on board the car and hear their screams. 

“NO!” You can’t jump, you don’t have your grappling gun nor do you have rope or anything else to hold on to. 

The cable car falls a few feet before Goblin snatches the cable up and holds it, and the civilians in the car, hostage. 

Goblin holds the cable in one hand as he stalks towards you.
“You son of a bitch!” You hiss at him. 

You can’t fight him. 

If you engage, he’ll drop the kids. 

“Such words from a lady.” Goblin tuts, backing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“I am no lady.” Your mind is running a thousand miles per hour, calculating how you can stall this, how long Peter can make it here so Spider-Man can save the day, without antagonizing the Goblin into dropping the children.

“I just want to do a little pest control.” Goblin cackles. 

Your heel finds the edge of the bridge.

“I find mosquitoes to be a pain in the ass.” You quickly glance down to the children crying before coming back to the grinning face of the Goblin. 

“Spiders, Missus Parker. I want to kill a Spider.” Goblin reached for your throat.

You could feel the anticipation, could feel time slow down as if a coin had been tossed into the air.

Heads: you fight the Green Goblin and out yourself as a mutant superhero with none of your tools to help you fight or fly. The children’s deaths are on your head. You fall from grace. The peace you painstakingly carved after the anguish of your childhood shatters. Peter, your family, your life that you fought and clawed for is destroyed in the aftermath. 

Tails: you play the damsel in distress and Spider-Man shows up to save the day, both of your secret identities are protected. The children are saved. The Goblin is defeated once again.

You call it just as time speeds up and the Green Goblin has you dangling in his iron grasp, your feet over the bridge, your hands grasping into the Goblin’s desperately gasping for breath as he holds you over oblivion. 

You hear the thwip of Peter’s webs and you find yourself relieved that he’s here. 

It’s going to be okay.

Peter came. 

It’s going to be alright.

“Spider-Man!” Green Goblin roars. “This is why only fools are heroes because you never know when some lunatic will come along with a sadistic choice: let die this innocent woman who’s only fault was being your nurse…” You could feel Goblin loosen his grip and then tighten once more. “Or suffer the little children.” 

You whimper, not because Green Goblin would drop you, but because you would never forgive Peter if he were to save you over the children just as he would never forgive himself if he saved the children over you.

He had already taken on the death of Ben, he would break into something he wasn’t if you were gone. 

Your eyes, sight fading on the edges as lack of air starts to get to you, find the whites of his mask and you try to convey everything in a single look. 

“D-don’t-” you gasp out. 

You can hear the children call out to your husband to save them. 

“Make your choice, Spider-Man. See how a hero is rewarded.” Green Goblin mocked. 

You could feel the anticipation…

“Don’t do it Goblin!” Spider-Man, Peter, yelled at the Goblin.

Heads: Peter saves the children and loses you.

“We are who we choose to be.”

Tails: Peter saves you and loses the children.

“Now choose!” Green Goblin opened his fists and let go. 

You make a call.

“No!” You hear your husband scream.

The odds of landing heads or tails in a coin toss is fifty-fifty; a fair coin has no bias and both sides have equal chance of landing face up.

You are weightless as you fall.

You don’t scream.

You gasp and cough for breath as you flail. 

You see Peter running towards you and leap.

No! No! Peter! Don’t! You want to scream but your throat hurts from being squeezed and held twice in less than two hours.

Peter thwips his webs towards you and pulls you once he has you; he’s holding you tightly as he swings back towards the cable car. 

“Hold on to me, Kitty Cat.” He whispers in your ear. 

You wrap your legs around his waist so he can have both arms free. 

And sometimes… 

Peter grabs the cable-

… in a one and six thousand toss…

-Peter webbed the bridge-

… a coin can land on its edge.

-Peter did it. 

“I got you! I got you!” Peter calls out to the children below. “Just stay still!”

You look up at the bridge. 

Dozens of civilians are watching in awe and horror as Spider-Man holds you and the children.

Dozens of civilians with their phones out recording the scene.

But your eyes do not stay on the cameras. 

No. 

Your eyes fall on the webs connecting to the bridge.

You see some of the webbing start to fray and hear the children whimper.

You hear the scream of the Goblin’s hoverboard as he starts to make rounds.

“Spidey,” you warn but it’s moot; Peter knows Goblin is coming back, you know Peter knows Goblin is coming back but because you are in your scrubs and not your kevlar, you shouldn’t have the senses you have. 

You are a civilian in this situation, not Black Cat. 

As hard as it’s going to be, you will have to let Spider-Man fight alone.

“I need you to climb down.” Peter tells you, voice straining under the weight of all he’s carrying. 

More of the webbing starts to snap and you all drop a few feet more. 

You cannot help it as a shriek falls from your lips. 

You cling to Peter; he is the love of your life, the light in the dark, your hope for humanity. If you are going to die tonight, you at least want the comfort of being held in his arms.

A fleeting, intrusive thought came into your mind: if you were to die tonight, would your father and his children come to your funeral?

“Kitty, you can do this.” Peter murmured before changing to his Spidey voice. “Hold on tight and go quickly.” 

“I love you!” You whisper into his chest before you grab the cable. 

If you die tonight by some psychotic gremlin, you at least want to tell Peter that one last time.

“I know.” Peter said as started to climb down.

It’s with sweaty palms and a body full of adrenaline as you climb down a foot, then another. Then another. 

You can hear the Goblin come round once more. 

You hear Peter yell at you to hurry.

You can hear the Goblin cackling as he prepares to sideswipe Spider-Man.

“Hang on!” Spider-Man yells just before the Goblin smacks into him. 

Spider-Man and the cable are knocked around and it’s all you can do to hold on.

You scream out as you fight tooth and nail to hold onto the cable, your palms and fingers digging into the metal. 

Growing up, you wanted to be just like your older brother. You did everything you could to be just like him. Your coach had told you that you qualified for the Olympics your sophomore year of high school. 

Neither your father nor your brothers showed up to your tournaments. 

Alfred was the one in the stands clapping for you as you flipped and spun and landed with the grace of a cat. 

Alfred was the one to film each of your victories and to take your picture of your medals. 

Alfred was the one to wipe the tears away once the spotlights were off you and you could break down and cry.

You had pushed yourself so hard for a family that didn’t see you, stretched yourself so thin to be noticed and they hadn’t cared. 

They couldn’t be bothered to show up. 

Your last thoughts, and that would not be tonight, would not be about the people you left behind.

You grunted as the cable stopped whipping back and forth only for the Goblin to once again return and this time, collide with Spider-Man, forcing him to let go of the cable and the webs. 

You cry out, not because you’re now falling, but because the other half of your soul just got an uppercut to his chin and his head whipped back so fast you thought it would snap. 

You hold on tight to the cable as you fall.

You trust Peter with your life. 

You know he will catch the cable. 

You know he will save the children.

And he does catch the cable once more.

The Green Goblin and Spider-Man whipping the cable car back and forth is not enough to get you to let go but the sudden stop of the fall is. Through no fault of anyone but the Goblin and inertia, your grip is loose and you cry out as you fall.

Wind whips through your hair as you fall.

The car is getting closer and closer and you reach out; you land and feel pain in your ribs and shoulder as you roll over the side but you are holding onto the car for dear life.

You can see the children in the car and the two adults with them; it must be a school trip or a birthday party.

There is a little three year old crying. 

“It’s okay.” Your voice shakes as you try to calm their tears. “Spider-Man is going to save us.” 

“Promise?” A six year old asks.

“Pinky promise.” You say, holding onto the car roof with both hands.

You look up and you see Green Goblin once again fly towards Peter. 

A small smile forms on your lips as you see the New Yorkers on the bridge throw things towards the Goblin. 

The New Yorkers, the people you and Peter swore to protect, now it’s their turn to protect you.

Their distraction allowed Spider-Man to set the cable car on the barge below. 

You stand on shaking legs as you assess the children for injuries, your breath hitching as your chest radiates in pain as your muscles spasm. 

“I told you Spider-Man will save us.” You smile to reassure the children.

You feel the anticipation and another metaphorical coin flip. You don't know the outcomes of either heads or tails this time. When coin lands, you cannot help but feel dread as the ringing in your ears fade. 

This would surely be on the news...

The odds of your family noticing you now, after all this time, are low but not impossible.

You just hope that the people you left behind are creatures of habit and don't pay attention to you.

Gotham, the following day…

Bruce Wayne has the news on as background noise in the cave when he hears your name and he nearly chokes on his coffee. 

Chapter Text

Gotham, the following day…

Bruce Wayne has the news on as background noise in the cave when he hears your name and he nearly chokes on his coffee. 

You had vanished without a trace not long after Jason’s and it broke something in him. 

Not only had Bruce lost his son, he had lost his only daughter. 

There had been no body, no ransom, no phone call, no letter. 

Nothing. 

It was like you had vanished out of thin air.

You were his little girl. 

You were supposed to be safe.

You were supposed to be protected. 

You were never supposed to know about the vigilante life or be a part of it out of fear that you would be taken and used against him or worse, killed like Jason had been.

When he found you were missing, he had beaten the Joker black and blue, demanding where you were. 

Joker only laughed.

The only reason Joker was alive and not dead for Jason was so he could tell Batman where you were; to hell with the Joker’s diplomatic immunity from Iran. 

Joker never said anything about your whereabouts. 

None of the Rogues in Gotham knew.

Bruce could not find you anywhere.

“-were held captive by the Green Goblin over the Queensboro Bridge and saved by Spider-Man. The children have been reported to be safe and sound back with their parents with only the mystery woman suffering minor injuries. Conspiracy theorists and TikTok are convinced this is the missing daughter of Gotham billionaire Bruce Wayne but there has been no confirmation on the identity of this woman. Is this the Lost Wayne or is this just some unfortunate lookalike? The world holds its breath with the possibility that the Diamond of Gotham shines once more. We turn to Summer for the weather.” The news anchor said.

Bruce watched as the picture from your fourteenth birthday is compared to another picture someone had taken that night on the bridge. 

It’s not the best quality because of the time of night, the movements of photographer and the hero and villain, or the frustrating lack of Batman level high definition graphics on the bystanders’ phones. 

Even with the Batcomputer, it’s difficult to to find a clear video or picture of the face but he manages to splice separate pictures and stills of you to do a facial reconstruction and when he is done, he can only stare at the computer in shock. 

You are older, there is no denying it, but you are his lost Little Chick. You’ve taken after your mother and it’s all Bruce can do not to cry with relief that you’re alive.

He searches and watches video after video after video of you on the bridge. 

His heart clenches every time he hears you shriek. 

He clenches his teeth every time he sees you fall.

His stomach churns when he sees the Green Goblin hold you by your throat and drop you with the intention to kill. 

That should be him going to his daughter’s rescue!

He sees your scrubs and cross references the reconstructed photo with hospitals and clinics.

You… You're a nurse.

You went to nursing school.

You changed your last name.

It’s difficult, you don’t have much of a social media presence and what he can find is private. 

It is easy to bypass the walls and he sees all the pictures you have taken. 

“Who is that?” Tim asks. 

Bruce didn’t hear the boys come home. 

“It’s my Little Chick.” Bruce let out a shaky breath. 

“She’s alive?” Damian said with disbelief. 

Tim brought up an Instagram picture, a recent one you had posted, where the photographer had captured you mid laugh. The sunshine behind you made you look radiant as your eyes sparkled with more life in a photo than in any memory the bats and the birds had of you.

“I can put together a dossier. So we know what we’re walking into when we bring her home.” Tim said. 

Bruce said nothing as he stared at the photo of you smiling.

Your disappearance haunted the halls of the manor.

Not only had Tim felt the weight of the mantle of Robin after Jason’s death, but stepping in the halls where you once stood, called the same man father that you once did, watching Alfred hesitate after placing the wrong number of plates because he had momentarily forgotten that you were gone as well; all of that made Tim try harder, be better. 

He had to be if he wanted to be the one to find you, dead or alive, and bring you home to the family he found and joined. 

He wasn’t the one that found you, but he would damn well be a part of the group that would bring you home. 

He had set up his laptop to the tv in the living room area and was waiting for everyone to settle before he began. 

“Thank you all for coming.” Tim said, ignoring Jason as he flipped him off. “No doubt you have all heard by now, but B found her. Little Chickadee,” your name as foreign as it is familiar on his lips, “is alive and living in New York.” 

Dick’s jaw dropped. 

Barbara had gasped and Tim could see tears in her eyes. 

“Wait, seriously?” Stephanie looked up from braiding Cass’ hair. 

Alfred, who had been standing, placed a hand on his heart and collapsed in a chair. 

Damian, from Tim’s perspective, was stoic. 

Tim took a deep breath and moved on with the presentation, “- formerly Wayne, now Parker, is an emergency room nurse and the primary source of income. She graduated top of her class with Summa Cum Laude and received the Florence Nightingale honor by treating injured civilians back when New York had that alien attack and when she was working as an EMT.” 

Tim showed pictures of your graduation. 

You were beaming in your robes at the person taking the picture in the first one. 

In the second, you stood beaming next to a woman in a white doctor’s coat. 

“Rio Morales, doctor who also worked with Chick as an EMT.” 

In the third, you were flanked by a red headed and blonde haired women. They each were pressing a kiss to your cheeks while you had your mouth open in a laugh. 

“Mary Jane Watson, actress and model, girlfriend to Harry Osborn.” Tim pointed to the red head kissing you then to the blonde haired woman. “Gwen Stacy, student at Empire State getting her Doctorate in Biochemistry. They are friends and were trusted enough to be bridesmaids.” 

The next slide showed a picture of a wedding party. 

You were radiant. 

The dress you wore was stunning and simplistic. Your veil was delicately arranged over your hair. You were glowing from happiness. 

“Oh, my dear girl.” Alfred whispered in awe. 

Tim could hardly believe that the girl in the pictures on the desk in the Batcave grew into the beautiful woman in the wedding gown. 

Tim could see the Bat’s eyes darken at the picture. 

There was Doctor Morales, Mary Jane, and Gwen dressed in light blue bridesmaid dresses. 

“Ned Leeds, Johnny Storm, Harry Osborn,” Tim held the laser pointer over each of the men with the corresponding name before he came to the groom. “Peter Benjamin Parker.”

Tim wanted to hate the guy. 

He wanted to find any dirt he could on the man. 

Any sort of evidence that he could use to charge Peter with kidnapping and coercion. 

Nothing. 

The only reason Tim could come up with to justify his loathing of the man was that he had stolen you away and married you under their noses.

“Peter is a freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle while he’s pursuing his Doctorate in Biochemistry. He graduated with his Bachelor’s in Biophysics the week before the wedding. They met in one of their shared biology classes. No criminal record on file. Not even a ticket. The only police report was that Peter was involved in a mugging that resulted in the death of his Uncle; he had to hold his Uncle as he died.” 

Bruce closed his eyes and clenched his fist. 

“I hacked Peter’s personal Instagram accounts, his professional one is public but Chickadee isn’t in any pictures there, and as far as I can find, Chick is his muse. He takes many pictures of her, of an elderly woman he calls Aunt May, and a beagle named Sandwich.” Tim flipped through some of the less intimate photos Peter had taken of you; he nearly had a heart attack seeing a picture of you laying in bed in pajamas while Peter was shirtless beside you. 

“Chickadee’s Instagram is full of Peter and Sandwich as well, but less activity than Peter’s.” Tim took a deep breath before finishing the presentation. “She changed her last name. She didn’t use her mothers, she didn’t use Wayne, she didn’t use any name we would have thought of. That’s how she was hidden from us all these years.”

A picture of you holding Sandwich and kissing the dog’s forehead was on the TV. 

“That doesn’t explain how she went missing after Jason’s death.” Dick said.

“Kidnapping?” Stephanie suggested. 

“It’s the only explanation.” Bruce said.

“How do you explain the lack of ransom note?” Barbara asked. 

“Someone found her but the trauma of being kidnapped and being knocked unconscious made her lose her memory. That is the only explanation as to why my sister is out there, being dangled off of bridges by goblins instead of here where I can protect her.” Damian stood and started to make his way out of the living room. 

“Excuse you, what? What was that about a goblin?” Duke asked. 

"In case you haven't seen it already," Tim exited out of the presentation and went to Youtube. 

The horror on everyone’s face as they watched the spider hero be forced to choose between you and a car full of children. 

The helplessness that came when they watched you fall. 

The shared jealousy as the Spider-Man caught you. 

The same thought of it should have been me to save her!

The heart pounding moments where you were tossed around like a rag doll before you eventually lost your grip and plummeted once more. 

“I found the hospital that she went to afterwards and took a peak in her file: sprained wrist, bruised ribs, laryngeal trauma, lots of bruises, minor lacerations on her hands. She’s going to be out on medical leave for a month and a half due to injuries.” Tim pulled up the doctor’s notes. 

“She’s defenseless out there.” Dick said, looking at the photos the doctors took of your injuries for insurance purposes. “That goblin could attack her again.” 

“That good for nothing husband of hers won’t be able to protect her if she was able to be kidnapped in the first place. She needs to be here. She needs to be safe.” Damian said. 

“I’m going to bring her home.” Bruce stood up.

“Master Bruce, need I remind you that your daughter is now married.” Alfred said.

“Husband be damned. I’m bringing her home.” Bruce vowed.

Chapter Text

There had been plans made to bring their Chickadee home but Jason couldn’t wait.

When he had returned from the pits, half mad and stronger than a normal man, he had stayed with the League only to learn how to control his rage and strength so he didn’t harm you. You were his sole reason for returning to Gotham, to get better, to reconcile with Bruce.

But you were gone.

Jason could excuse Bruce for replacing him; Jason wasn’t his child and Jason had spat those words in Bruce’s face many times.

But Timothy Drake?

Drinking coffee out of Chickadee’s mug?

Taking on the mantle of Robin?

Living in Jason and Chickadee’s home?

Calling Jason and Chickadee’s father “dad”?

And Bruce allowing this?

No. 

Jason would not let this slide. 

Bruce and the others wanted to make a plan to bring Chickadee home while there were monsters and villains in New York who had already harmed his Chick? No. Jason wasn’t going to allow any monster to hurt his sister, not any more. 

Jason at least had the excuse of being dead and then insane from the Pit in his ignorance of Chickadee but the others? 

Bruce?

They had no excuse.

None. 

Jason’s motorcycle purred as he stopped at a stop sign.

For all of Tim’s genius, he couldn’t find an address; the only mailing address you and Peter had was a PO box.

Jason was just as impressed with you as he was infuriated by you; you moved to the most populated city on the East Coast, change your name, little to no social media, and a PO box? Jason was buying you a gun and a sparkly pink baseball bat as a belated wedding gift. 

“Where oh where oh where is my Shadow…” Jason found himself humming the song Bear in the Big Blue House. While B called Dick and Jason his Robins and you his Chickadee, you would always be Jason’s Shadow. 

Thunder rolled and it started to rain. 

“Where could Shadow be…” Jason picked a direction and rode his bike.

He was about to turn around when he heard shouts of pain down an alley. 

When he looked he saw four men fighting a fifth while a woman-to Jason’s horror, it was you-hugged her ribs as lighting clashed. 

Jason parked his bike and entered the alley, intent on getting you, on interfering when the fifth man webbed the four up to the side of the building. 

Jason could only watch as Spider-Man, his Shadow’s hero twice now, sauntered over to his little sister and flipped upside down on the fire escape. 

“You, miss, have a knack for getting into trouble.” Spider-Man was definitely flirting with Jason’s sister. 

“And you, sir, have a knack for saving my life.” 

Why were you flirting back???

“I was in the neighborhood.” 

“That is twice now, you have saved me this week. One would think you were sweet on me, Spidey.” You flirted back.

Jason wanted to wash his eyes and ears with bleach. 

He did not need to hear or see you flirting. 

Jason’s Hood doesn’t pick up what Spider-Man says but Jason’s eyes don’t deceive him as he watches you pull down the mask so you can kiss Spider-Man without revealing his identity to any onlooker. 

Jason watched in shock as Spider-Man shot a web and disappeared with you into the night. 

You…

You had kissed Spider-Man.

You were married. 

And you had kissed Spider-Man.

You were married to Peter Parker.

You kissed Spider-Man.

You-

No-

But-

It made sense…

From what Jason saw of your instagrams, you adored Peter and Peter adored you. 

From what Jason remembered of you, you always wanted to marry someone who loved you unconditionally like in the books Jason would read to you. 

It would also make sense why Green Goblin targeted you and used you as bait for Spider-Man. 

Why you and Peter only had a PO box instead of an apartment listing. 

Why your personal socials were private.

Jason sat on his motorcycle and stared back into the alley. 

He revved his bike and drove in the direction Spider-Man swung.

Jason was the only one who figured it out and he wasn’t going to tell anyone. 

He was going to watch it all unfold with a shit eating grin.

///

You were unnerved when you saw a child and a teenager watching you across the subway platform. 

You were suspicious when you saw a blonde and a brunette watching you in the supermarket. 

You were questioning your eyes when you saw someone who looked like Dick and another teen look over at you from across the street.

You had hyperventilated when you saw- when you saw Bruce when you walked onto the college campus.

You were bringing Peter lunch since you were off on medical leave and now you were panicking in the girls bathroom.

You don’t remember who you texted, MJ, Gwen, Peter, just that it was someone.

You heard knocking on the door. 

Your heart hammered in your chest. 

What if it was them?

Had they come for you?

How had they found you?

Why would they come after all these years?

Why would they care now?

Was it because of-

“Kit Kat, it’s me. Can you unlock the door?” 

It was Peter. 

With a trembling hand, you unlocked the door. 

Peter was there.

No bats. 

No birds. 

Just your Spider.

“Oh, Kitty Cat.” Peter held you and cradled your head as you sobbed into his chest. 

With a free hand, he shut and locked the door once more and you both sunk to the floor so he could hold you on his lap. 

He didn’t ask or demand. 

Peter held you close and that was enough. 

You don’t know how long you were there but eventually the tears stopped but the panic, the fear that your father and the children he replaced you and Jason with were still out there.

“I saw him.” Your voice shook. 

“Goblin?” Peter’s voice was still calm but there was a hardness around the edge of it. 

“No… him. My-my dad.” You sniffed and blew your nose in the toilet paper Peter got for you. “Him and his birds. They just showed up out of the blue. No word or warning. Why did they leave New Jersey?!”

“Want me to fight them?” Peter offered. 

While it was a fight you would pay to watch, you didn’t want your Spider to get hurt fighting Batman and his Robins.

“No. Just hold me. I don’t want to be alone.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. 

“Want to come to my lecture with Doctor Octavius? He misses you.” Peter offered.

“Sure.” You sniffled. 

“Okay.” Peter kissed your forehead. 

“I brought you a sandwich from Mr. Delmar.” You point to where the paper bag was laying on the floor. 

“God, I love you.” Peter squeezed you tight. 

“The bathroom floor is adding flavor.” You joked to relieve the pain in your chest, in your heart. 

“That shall mix nicely with my radioactivity.” Peter joked back. “Do you want to see them again?”

Your dad-

He did try. He didn’t know all he was doing but he tried. 

He just didn’t know what to do with you. 

You weren’t a Robin. 

You weren’t a son.

You were just you.

And then Jason died.

And he couldn't handle it. 

And then you left.

And then he replaced you and Jason.

“I don’t know.” You said honestly. “If something were to happen, I’d want it on my terms.” 

Peter nodded. 

“I will support your decision, but I will not stand by if you are hurt.” Peter promised. 

“Thank you.” 

You were tired. 

Tired of heroes. 

Tired of crying. 

Tired of a family that replaced you.

Just tired. 

But Peter, with his arms around you, you felt okay.