AN: HUGE THANKS TO MY CO-WRITER, MEG, AND HER MAGICAL WRITING FINGERS!

I researched about the unfortunate victims of abuse and found heartbreaking material. I used it as inspiration for Peter's letter.

Same trigger warning. Please read with care.

Part II

Tony had been wandering the streets of Queens for a while. Much to Happy's protests he had asked his driver to suddenly stop the car because he could no longer sit in there and let his mind wander so much. He needed space. He needed to get out.

He told Happy to just drive around the neighbourhood while Tony let his feet move. He didn't notice where they were taking him until he was facing the Parkers' apartment door.

Tony blinked. After Peter had told him of the incident he couldn't stop himself from wanting to tear this 'Skip' guy to shreds. He couldn't anyway, because Tony found out that the man was sent to prison after May and Ben Parker filed a complaint and opened a case.

Unfortunately, as Tony had learned a long time ago, the system could be prodded and poked until it created a loophole.

'Parole hearing based on good behaviour,' he had read in FRIDAY's findings. What a bunch of utter bullshit. This...this monster was being considered a hearing for 'good behaviour', after destroying his son's life and possibly many other lives of innocent children.

Jesus, what a world they lived in.

Tony lifted his hand to knock but to his surprise the door whipped open before his knuckles could reach. May didn't notice him with her head down and almost bumped into the man, letting out a slight gasp.

"Whoa," Tony said as his hands reached out to steady her.

"Tony, hey. What are you doing here?" May was dressed in her work clothes, clearly ready to start her shift soon.

"I'm sorry, May. I shouldn't have come here. You're obviously about to head to work."

"What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just…" Tony shook his head. "Actually, no. Peter told me about Skip."

May froze for a few seconds, then nodded. "I figured he might." She looked at her watch and said, "Come in, I have some time."

"No, I don't want to make you late-"

"It's okay, I just wanted to get some shopping done before work. But this is more important." She walked back in and gave Tony room to follow and close the door behind. "Would you like anything to drink?" she called out from the kitchen.

"No, I'm okay. Thank you."

Once May settled beside him on the living room couch, mug of tea in hand, she asked, "What did Peter tell you exactly?"

Tony huffed. "Just that this guy - Steven Westcott - had…" He couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Ben and I," she swallowed, her stomach churning with nausea, "we couldn't believe we let this happen for so long-"

"Whoa, wait," he placated. "None of this was your fault."

"Of course it was," she hissed, still unforgiving towards herself. "We were so caught up in work and financial problems that we failed to see the signs. Every time I dropped him off at Skip's he always made excuses - he was old enough to stay home alone, he didn't need a babysitter, he would rather visit me at work…" May shook her head and covered her face with her hands. "God, I was such a fool."

Tony gulped. "May, you did everything you could for Peter. This wasn't on you or Ben. This was on him." He figured no matter what he said, May wouldn't take in a word. She was too caught up in her guilt and self-loathing, a state of mind Tony knew all too well.

"Did he tell you about the call?" May asked suddenly.

"What call?"

"A few weeks ago I received a call about the hearing. They wanted Peter to come in and basically give a statement, if he is able to." May shook her head. "I wanted to protect Peter from all that again, so at first I didn't tell him."

"Understandable." And he meant it, Tony would've probably done the same thing.

"But Peter's not the type to stay silent, especially after the whole Spider-Man thing." She sighed, "If I know my nephew, he..."

"Would make sure that son of bitch never sees outside of a prison wall," Tony finished with certainty. He spent more than enough time with his son to know at least that.

May nodded, then said, "Tony." He looked at her. "He needs you."

Tony blinked, feeling a quickening in his chest. "He said that?"

"He doesn't have to. I know he wants you to be there." Tony let the words sink in. May continued, "The hearing is next week."

Tony nodded, silently making the commitment to go. "Do you guys need a ride?"

May shook her head. "No, that's fine. I can drive us both. Besides, we don't want to draw too much attention."

"Driving in a $100,000 Bentley too much?" he joked, making May laughed with him. "But seriously, let me drive you to work - I insist. It's the least I could do."

May relented, "Okay, Tony."

xXx

During his study hall, Peter wandered outside, finally settling himself onto the bleachers in front of the football field. He took out his chemistry textbook and worksheet but couldn't seem to focus for more than a moment at a time. He definitely had other things on his mind. Peter was so engrossed in his thoughts, in fact, that he didn't even realise that Gwen had walked up to his position on the bleachers and sat down beside him, arms laden with books.

"Hey," Peter greeted her finally, feeling awkward. His uncomfortable feeling was mostly due to the fact that a few days ago Gwen had come striding up to his locker apologising profusely for what had happened on their date. Despite Peter's constant reassurance that it was not her fault at all, Gwen had been unrelenting in her pursuit to assuage whatever emotions Peter had been experiencing that night. It had been exhausting trying to keep himself calm and at bay while simultaneously comforting a girl that had put him in a panicked situation in the first place. It hadn't been Gwen's fault, he was truthful in his answers. However, Peter couldn't deny that he had felt the uneasiness settling onto him like a second skin. It was difficult to pretend like it hadn't meant nothing.

Gwen smiled and nodded at him but didn't say anything as she opened her own textbook. They worked in companionable silence until she asked, "Did you apply the equation on page eight for question six? I keep getting different answers."

Peter's head moved to the page. "Oh, no that one. Use the molecular formula as your key."

Gwen clicked her pen. "Right, duh." When she finished the question, she glanced at him, wondering how to start a conversation she'd been wanting to have since the beginning of the week. "Hey, Peter?"

"Hm?" he replied without looking up from his book. He was writing a few answers for question seven.

"Do you think...maybe...I mean, if you're available…" Gwen felt as if Peter could visibly see how uncomfortable she felt. She wanted to ask him a question but something about him made her nervous and knocked her off-course from the strong, confident young woman she was. Something she had done at their date on Friday had made Peter very nervous. This, in turn, made Gwen hyper-aware of her words and actions. She had to take care that she didn't make the same mistake twice.

Finally, she worked up the nerve. "Do you wanna hang out this Friday after school?"

Peter stopped writing as he turned to her in surprise. In all honesty, he hadn't expected Gwen to ever come near him again with the way he abruptly ended their first date. When he had reached home that Friday night and had time to reflect on the fact that he had had to physically push Gwen off of him, he felt horrible. He had enjoyed the feeling of having her close to him, the intoxicatingly cloying scent of her perfume and the way her fingers brushed first through his hair, then down his back and…

It had been going well until his memory had reminded him of other hands that had been in those same places.

After a few moments of trying to forget the past and remain in the present, Peter realised that it was hopeless. He had been dwelling on past events for too long and suddenly he couldn't distinguish Gwen's hands from...his. His throat had closed and his eyes snapped open, senses akin to those he felt when he had been out on patrol and in danger. Get out, his mind had supplied him with, it's not going to happen again.

Peter shook his head; he had already made the determination that Friday night after the disastrous date that he was not going to let the past keep clouding the present. He liked Gwen. A lot. She had no ill intentions toward him. It was difficult to remember that - a hand was a hand, no matter who it belonged to and the fact of the matter was the last time anyone had been down there -

"Yeah," he smiled. "I'd love that. I mean, I didn't think..." He trailed off, then a thought crossed his mind. "There's this ice cream parlour down my road I think you'd love. They have this amazing marshmallow flavour."

"I didn't even know that existed," she grinned. "It's a date!" After not hearing from Peter all weekend, she had thought that maybe she had come on too strong. Peter reassured her every time she brought it up, but still she couldn't help that gut feeling that something was wrong. Something about the way he was looking at her now gave her the feeling that she was right.

Gwen had asked MJ if this was normal behaviour for Peter; after all she had only just met him. MJ had retorted that she wasn't his gatekeeper. Not satisfied, Gwen asked Ned at his locker and he had simply said that she hadn't done anything wrong, Peter just needed to work some things out.

"What kind of things?" Gwen had asked.

"Just...things. Look, I'm not supposed to say anything but if it makes you feel better, Peter really enjoyed the date."

Gwen snorted in disagreement. "Then why did he leave? I feel like I did something wrong."

"You didn't! I promise! It's not you. Like I said, Peter just has stuff on his mind." Gwen didn't seem satisfied with the answer. Ned said, "For what it's worth, he really likes you."

She smiled at that.

Peter glanced down at the Tag Heuer watch encircling his wrist. The brown camel strap and black opalin dial were a far cry from the cheap Timex he had used to wear. The time piece had given him such sticker shock that he was embarrassed for other Midtown Science students to see it; he mostly covered it with the sleeve of his hoodie and rarely rolled it up to look at the hands. Flash once caught him surveying the time and grabbed his wrist, demanding to know how on earth he could afford a five and a half thousand dollar wristwatch while living in a 'dump of an apartment'.

Ned had immediately answered for him, "Mr Stark got it for him."

"Ned!" Peter hissed, afraid his best friend was about to blow his cover. "Uh, it's a company watch. You know, because of the-"

"Stark Internship," Flash had said, a hint of sour incredulity in his voice. "Does Tony Stark know that you're stealing his office supplies?"

Before Peter could reply, Ned answered for him again, "Peter doesn't steal!" he said, offended at the accusation thrown towards Spider-Man himself. Peter pulled him aside and told him to just ignore Flash. This incident, on top of the already curious glances he got surrounding the pre-released SI headphones he received, had brought more baffled mumbles around him. Peter had decided that he would no longer bring anything Mr Stark had given him to school, if only to dissuade suspicion. People were starting to come up to him and ask if he would get Tony Stark to give them a job.

Gwen looked up from the problem she was working on and followed Peter's engrossed gaze to his wrist. "That's nice," she remarked, indicating the watch that Peter seemingly couldn't life his eyes off of.

"What? Oh!" Peter seemed to snap out of his stupor. The decathlon team was supposed to meet in the library in three minutes. "Crap, we're going to be late."

"MJ's not big on the whole tardy thing," Peter said between breaths as he and Gwen rushed to make it from the football field into the high school. "She once threatened to cut my balls off in my sleep. Knowing her, I have no doubt in my mind that she'd do it." Gwen laughed and she hurried to keep pace alongside him.

After the session, Peter congratulated Gwen on getting through her first practise on the team.

MJ had grilled her with questions, just to make sure she had rightfully earned her spot. Flash tried too hard to impress her by answering the fastest and subsequently getting the most wrong. MJ reprimanded Flash, ("Stop answering the first thing that pops into your thick skull over a stupid pissing contest with Parker."). The team laughed. Mr Harrington told everyone to settle down. Rinse and repeat.

They walked out of practise feeling lighter on their feet. Peter especially, with everything else going on in his life.

"Not bad, Stacy," the leader of the team fist-bumped Gwen.

"Hey, how come you never tell us we did a good job?" Ned pouted.

"When you don't almost set fire to the curtains behind the stage, we'll talk."

Ned lifted his arms in exasperation. "That was one time and Flash tripped me."

"How about you don't run with a beaker full of flammable chemicals?" MJ shot back. "I'm out. Later, Stacy." She then saluted to the boys, "Losers."

Gwen turned to Ned and Peter. "Does she always call you that?"

"Yeah," Peter grinned. "But it's more out of affection. Maybe. I don't know. I can never get a read on her."

"Yet," Ned said, "her eyes always look like they see into your soul. It's spiritually violating."

Gwen laughed. "She's not that bad."

"With you, maybe," Ned mumbled. "Better get going. My mom invited some relatives over for dinner, which means I have to host the most obnoxious cousin in the world."

"I'm sure Ray-Ray is a bit too old to be putting whoopee cushions under your sofa, Ned." His cousin was only about a year older than them.

"You'd think! But he does it. Every time. To me. Why does he always do it to me?" he huffed. "And he keeps stealing my things! I told my mom so many times to get him to stop doing that but she keeps replying with these 'inspiration quotes' I can never understand. I think she's just trying to get me to share."

"Sharing is caring, Ned," Gwen mocked.

"Ha-ha," he said, dryly. "I'll see you, guys. If I'm not in school tomorrow I'm on the run for murder."

"He's not that bad, dude," Peter said.

"Easy for you to say. For some reason, he likes you."

"Maybe because I didn't eat the last halo-halo cup at your family's barbecue."

Ned threw his arms up in exasperation for the second time. "Why is everyone grilling me today?" As if reading his mind, Ned stopped Peter, "No, that was not a pun!" He waved goodbye and left the two to their own devices.

Peter took Gwen's hand and led her to the place her promised.

Once Peter and Gwen got close enough to the parlour to see inside the window, Peter nearly exhaled audibly. Something about the familiar old-fashioned crystal glasses lined up in the bay window made him think about a different time. He thought about when he was younger and how his Uncle Ben would console him for a sundry mix of things - getting yelled at by a teacher in school, feeling sad because he had misplaced a favourite toy, etc - with ice cream. Aunt May and Uncle Ben hadn't been poor but they hadn't been rich either and it was always a treat when his Uncle took him to get ice cream. They would sit down at a perpetually-sticky table by the bay window and his Uncle would look at him above the laminated menu that hadn't changed since he had gone there as a kid and would, "Get whatever you want, Pete. The sky's the limit."

After they had ordered and eaten their ice cream (Gwen remarked that marshmallow ice cream was, in fact, delicious) Peter pulled out the luxurious leather wallet Tony had slipped him the other night on a ride home.

"Presentation is key," he had said. At the time, Peter was embarrassed at being gifted with yet another expensive item. It wasn't until he had walked into the apartment that he realised the wallet was stuffed with cash - $400 worth. He had been so paranoid about something happening to it that he put all but fifty dollars of it into a shoebox beneath his bed.

Gwen made a grab for her own wallet but Peter placed a gentle hand over her wrist. "I've got this," he said, finally feeling comfortable being able to flaunt the money his dad had given him. Even if he hadn't exactly done anything to earn the cash himself, it felt good to feel like a man, like someone Gwen could depend upon.

They walked to a nearby park, circling around the perimeter before finally settling on a bench. The conversation focused mostly on school, decathlon and general miscellaneous topics until Gwen felt brave enough to broach the subject of what was bothering her.

"So, we're really okay?" she asked, still apprehensive about what happened the previous week on their date. To her relief, Peter nodded eagerly.

"Of course. I thought…well, I thought you might've been, I don't know, mad at me?" Peter seemed sheepish in his delivery.

"I'm not mad, Peter," she said sincerely. "Just confused. I mean, we were…really getting into it. And then we…weren't." Peter looked down at his hands. "Look, it's cool if you wanna wait because I wanna wait too-"

"It's not that, I mean it is that, but that wasn't…that wasn't what happened."

Gwen felt fear and confusion stir within her, especially when she got a look at the boy's face. "Peter, whatever it is, you can tell me."

Despite Gwen's reassurance, Peter wasn't sure how to handle the situation. Ned knew and that was bad enough. When people discovered things like this, they found a way to remind him of it. A sympathetic look, a reminder, you can come to me whenever you need to, they were all done with good intentions but in the end… Well, it just made him remember.

"There are just some things… I'm not sure…" Peter hedged.

Gwen saw him clearly struggling. She reached for his hand and reassured, "It's okay. You don't have to tell me." She couldn't deny that she was curious about what was bothering Peter but she knew enough not to press him.

Peter nodded. He wanted to. Just…not right now. Instead, he only squeezed her hand back in response.

"So." She turned away from Peter, staring out at the vast expanse of grass in front of them. "Tell me, Parker. Is it true what Ned says?"

Peter threw her a cautious look. "And what exactly did Ned say?"

"That you have an internship with Tony Stark and know the Avengers?"

Alarm bells went ringing in his head. If he didn't tread carefully, she would catch on to the truth of it all. "Yes and no. I mean, Mr Stark mentors me and stuff."

"That's pretty cool. If Tony Stark would mentor anyone, it would be you."

Peter blushed. "I'm surprised you even believe me."

Gwen recalled the mockery he faced from the others. Flash's comments never helped. "You don't strike me as the deceitful type. Trust me, I came across my fair share of them. My dad taught me the signs."

"Oh right, you mentioned your dad was a cop."

"I actually applied for an internship with Stark Industries, but they only give a week's worth of work experience for students in high school, not internships." Peter froze for a few seconds, trying to come up with an answer that sounded more convincing than, "Oh, he basically asked me to fight with the Avengers." But then Gwen joked, "Who did you sell your soul to?"

Peter laughed nervously. "Isaac Newton, obviously. What else did Ned say about me?"

"Only good things, I promise. Oh! He did also mention that you met that guy who swings around in Queens?"

"S-Spider-Man?"

Gwen clicked her fingers. "That's it! He wears that red spandex suit, right?"

"It's not made of spandex!"

"So you do know him."

Peter closed his mouth shut. Then he said, "Not-not really. I only met him once...through the Stark internship."

"What was he like?"

"I didn't really...talk to him?" He could hear his voice getting higher. Surely, she wasn't buying this. "I only do lab work, mostly."

"Is that how you managed to pay for that ridiculously overpriced restaurant?"

Peter's mind struggled for an answer that wouldn't give an indication to his background. "Um, sort of? It was a favour, really. Because I meet people during social networks, you know? And I made friends with cool people-rich people, I mean. And they're...nice." Stop rambling!

"Uh-huh," Gwen looked like she was trying to buy it. "So your family can afford a chauffeur, but not a meal at Craft?"

"I don't have a chauffeur." At Gwen's perplexed looked he explained, "That was Mr Stark's driver! There was an emergency lab thing and he needed me there pronto."

Gwen raised her brow. "Wow, he really takes this mentoring thing seriously if he picks you up from school."

"Yeah," he chuckled nervously. "Hey, do you wanna meet my aunt?"

She blinked at the change of conversation. The implication of the question sank in. "Oh, really?"

Peter nodded eagerly. "Yeah, you'd love her."

Gwen smiled. "Okay."

xXx

Peter's apartment was a few blocks from the park and when they reached outside the building Gwen pulled him aside and pointed at something. His eyes widened as he realised that was his father's flashy car. Seriously? he thought. This is Queens not Beverly Hills!

"Wow," Gwen said. "Who would be brave enough to park this car in these parts?"

Iron Man, obviously, Peter grumbled. "Listen, Gwen, I just remembered something came up and introductions are going have to wait. I'm really sorry!"

Gwen couldn't say she wasn't disappointed but nodded in understanding. "It's okay. Um, I should be heading home anyway."

"I'll walk you?"

"To the other side of town?" she said, amused. "It's okay, I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

There was a moment where they stood awkwardly, not knowing how to say goodbye. But then they both leaned in, sharing a hug that lingered longer than either of them expected, melting into each other's embrace. When they broke apart and Gwen was out of sight, Peter sighed and walked up into his apartment.

Normally, he was thrilled to get a visit from his father, but knowing how they left things previously he wasn't sure how this visit was going to go. He knew Aunt May was home, which meant they had talked and she told him about the hearing.

The hearing. He still didn't know what he was going to do. As far as Peter was concerned, when he wanted something gone, he buried it. For a long time, it had felt like he could keep everything from escaping to surface level but since the incident with Gwen, he knew his grip was slipping. The mere thought of Skip, let alone facing him in a courtroom with onlookers, was enough to make Peter want to walk out of the building and go back to the ice cream parlour.

He remembered Uncle Ben had tried to enact his tried and true method of fixing problems with ice cream back when his secret had been discovered but nothing had absolved him of the feeling the interactions with Skip gave him. He had stared at the ice cream until it melted into a syrupy soup at the bottom of the glass bowl. "Let's go home," his uncle had said. It didn't occur to Peter until right then that his uncle hadn't touched his dessert, either.

He opened his apartment door and was met with his aunt and father sitting on the couch and drinking tea. A talk show was playing muted on the television and Peter spied a plate of gourmet cookies from Tony's favourite bakery on the coffee table. Tony immediately smiled at his son's entrance.

"Hey," Peter said to him, then, "Hey, Aunt May."

"Hey, yourself," May said. "How was school?"

Peter removed his backpack and carelessly dropped it by the sofa as he took a seat beside her. "Good. I hung out with Gwen after. We went to Eddie's Sweet Shop." He removed a box of pastries from his bag. "I got you your favourite."

May grinned and took the proffered box. "You saved my sweet tooth! I'm going to eat one of these right now on my way to work." She stood up and then swivelled back towards Tony. "Do you want one?"

Tony waved her off, watching as she walked into the kitchen before turning his gaze back onto his son. There was something cautious in his expression and he seemed about to say something to Peter when May walked back into the room, purse on her shoulder, keys in one hand, large frosted cinnamon roll in the other. She took a large bite out of the pastry, closing her eyes in rapture.

"So, you're going to work?" Peter asked, watching as she practically inhaled the dessert. His aunt had always had a thing for cinnamon rolls. Even when Peter had tried to cheer her up after Uncle Ben had died and burned the batch he'd wanted to give to her, she still lifted one blackened roll off the tray and bit into it, declaring it delicious.

"Yeah, I got roped into doing another night shift. You'll be okay for the night?" Peter nodded. "Besides, your-...Tony, is here to keep you company." Intending to say your father, she fumbled over her words. She supposed she was still getting used to the idea, even after two months.

Peter looked at Tony who had squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"Have a good night, boys." May walked out the door, licking the remnants of the treat off of her fingers as she went.

They waved back as she walked out the door, leaving the two in peaceful quiet while Tony cleaned up, placing the now-empty mugs into the sink.

"So," Peter started.

"So," Tony echoed, sitting beside him on the couch. "How was decathlon?"

Peter shrugged. "Good. MJ was making Gwen work for her spot. Flash was...Flash."

"Flash? Is that the same kid that keeps bothering you?"

Peter's eyes widened. He hadn't meant to mention him. "Yeah, but, it-it's not a big deal. I've got it handled."

Tony didn't look like he believed him. "If you say so. But if he keeps giving you trouble then I'm not above going down there and-"

"Telling the entire school that I'm your son?"

He paused. "That you're my intern and should be treated with a little respect. Look, I came across Flashes in my school days. I know how to put them in their place."

"It's okay, really. Nothing he says bothers me that much anyway."

Tony could only wish the truth of it wasn't written on his face. "Alright. You still hungry? 'Course you are, you're a teenage boy, an enhanced one at that." He grabbed his cell. "We'll order some Chinese?"

"Can we have Thai?"

"Sure."

Peter put on a movie while they waited and the food arrived about thirty minutes into it. As they dug into their respective dishes, Tony went over the day he had and Peter went into detail about his blossoming relationship with Gwen.

"I'm glad you found a nice girl, Pete."

"More like she found me. And yeah, she's really cool."

"You got any more dates planned? I can book another restaurant for you guys."

"No, no way! It was hard enough explaining the first date. I had to tell her it was a favour from some rich person I met at a function."

"You don't go to functions." Tony paused, an idea forming. "Maybe you should," he mumbled. He wanted an excuse to show off Peter's talent and now he had one. "There's a network gathering coming up. All the science geeks and rich snobs you can talk to."

"Really? That'd be awesome."

"Watch out for the opportunists though, they'll say anything to snatch you."

"Never. Unless they offer a good cupcake."

"Well then, how can you pass that up?"

They shared a few more laughs and finished up their food. Finally, Tony was able to ease into the topic he had been wanting to talk to his son about since coming over. He had just handed Peter hot chocolate - his favourite kind with small marshmallows sprinkled at the top - and made himself decaf coffee when his eyes trailed over a few pictures sitting around the apartment.

Tony didn't make a habit of visiting Queens. His schedule and fear of his relation to Peter being discovered made regular visits almost impossible. Unless it was a situation like this, where he felt that he needed to be making an effort to understand Peter's world for a change; maybe help his son feel more comfortable talking about his situation without feeling like a stranger in his environment.

It also gave Tony the opportunity to understand the place that his son grew up and see pictures of his smiling young face. May had invited him over once to go through some pictures albums, to make the feeling of missing out on his son growing up less painful. That longing will always be there, but he had to admit those pictures of a six-month-old Peter brought a sappy grin to his face, (he may have made a few copies for his keepsake).

Tony made a conscious effort to separate the infant he had glimpsed in those photos from the teenaged version staring at him now. "Peter?"

Peter's shoulders hunched forward. He knew that tone. His father wanted to have a serious conversation. This either ended up with him being lectured or getting his suit taken away. Or both. However, this particular tone had a gentleness to it. Peter sipped his hot chocolate, the marshmallows already melting. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

Not exactly the first thing Peter thought Tony was gonna ask. "Right now? Good, I guess. I mean, I have hot chocolate."

"Glad you still have your sense of humour to distract yourself from the elephant in the room. God, you really are my son," he mumbled to himself. "Listen, we both know your infuriatingly high moral compass isn't going to let you sit on the sidelines while some judge decides whether a monster should go back out there in the streets. My question is, are you going to be able to handle seeing him again?"

Peter's hands tightened around his mug of hot chocolate. If he wasn't careful, he was going to break it and have the pieces embedded into his skin. "I don't know… " The truth was, he was terrified. However, the urge to prevent himself from breaking down when someone or something else deserved his attention more was stronger. He was Spider-Man now.

"Okay. Let me ask you this: what do you want to say to him?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." When Peter shook his head again Tony thought of another approach. "When my parents died, I was a mess." He saw the surprised look on his son's face. He had Peter's full attention now at least. "The worst part of losing people is not knowing you're going to lose them, so you don't get to say what you really feel…" Tony lost himself in his memories. "In the end, during a weird drunken-high phase that you'll never experiment on," he said pointedly, "my brain decided to grab a piece of paper and pen, and I just started writing."

"What did you write?"

"Everything. The good, the bad, the mediocre middle. I wrote exactly how I felt. It was a letter addressed to my parents. And that's what I want you to do."

"You want me to write a letter?"

"Exactly." Tony looked at the teen. "Peter, right now I want you to forget the hearing. It doesn't matter if you feel like you have a responsibility to be there in court. Just forget about being in that courtroom for a moment. Write a letter. Do this for yourself. What do you have to say? If this Skip is standing there right now," he pointed in front of them, "what would you say to him?"

Peter was quiet, letting what his father had said sink in. He was so absorbed in his thinking that he didn't even see Tony get up and place paper and pen in front of him.

Eventually, Peter looked up from the paper and then back at his father. Tony said, "You don't have share with me, May or anyone, what you write on that piece of paper."

Slowly, Peter set down his mug and picked up the pen with trepidation.

xXx

The hearing arrived sooner than any of them expected. Like most things that were anticipated with a sense of dread, the event crept up on them faster than desired. Tony had met May and Peter inside the courtroom. He was first to be there and he watched everyone else, presumably Skip's family, pile in like it was the man's funeral.

If only, Tony thought. Undoubtedly, he would've been the one to put him there.

Steven Westcott sat in the front, his eyes forward. He was told to stay that way, presumably so he couldn't turn and face his victim. From what Tony could tell, the man was young. Peter had mentioned that Skip was a high school senior when it happened and as he was eighteen, he was tried as an adult. The man had light brown hair that was slicked back, and defeated shoulders that hunched forward.

When the shock of seeing the back of Skip's head settled, the family sent astonished glances at Tony when they noticed him in the room. They whispered amongst themselves, curious to know why Tony Stark had made an appearance for a random hearing. He ignored them until he saw May and Peter walk in. He stood up instantly to make room for them to slide over the chairs.

"Hey," May said.

Tony greeted her back and then looked down at his son. The kid couldn't even look up. "Peter?" he put a hand on the boy's shoulder. His eyes lowered to the kid's hands, fiddling with a folded paper between them.

Tony couldn't help but feel touched by the fact that Peter had listened to him, had taken his old man's advice. If these were any other circumstances, Rhodey would never hear the end of his parenting job well-done.

This was different. This was a court hearing, about his son's childhood molester. It was nothing to celebrate.

As the judged walked in, Tony and May could feel Peter between them start to shake. The boy's anxiety channelled into them like a windstorm. May took his hand and Tony squeezed his shoulder.

The judge, an older woman with a kind face, began speaking, "Good afternoon. This is the time set for a rehearing for Steven Westcott, under number 167403. Is that you sir?"

"Yes, it is." Steven's voice was like a sharp knife that cut through Peter's dazed mind. He finally looked up and saw the back of Skip's head, trying his hardest to stop shaking like a leaf.

"If you please raise your right hand so I can put you under oath," the judge continued. "Do you swear the information you provide today will be truthful and accurate?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," she said. Her tone was professional but had an underlying crisp to it. She continued to lay out the case that put him there, all the accusations and convictions that was Peter's suffering.

Tony was surprised his son was holding up so well, because he sure as hell wasn't. Tony was angry and the only thing holding him back from striding across the room and grabbing the man by his throat was the shaking boy beneath his grip.

"So you're aware that Peter had stated that you abused him for a duration of months. Is that accurate?"

Skip was silent for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "I have stated in my therapy sessions that Peter and I are friends. We spent a lot of time together and I had dinner with his family. I care about him and-"

"You're not answering the question. Did you abuse Peter, yes or no?"

"...no."

The judge leaned forward, her hand holding her chin in thought. "The fact that you avoided the question with a long irrelevant answer tells me that you weren't being honest. If you really believe that then I expected an answer point blank: no, I didn't." Skip didn't respond. "That causes great concern for me, because Peter has nothing to gain by coming forward."

"We were friends," Skip interrupted. "I don't understand what I'm being accused of here?"

"You are charged with sexual abuse of a minor." Skip continued to argue his case with weak points that diverted from the accusation he was facing. When it went on for longer than two minutes the judge decided to put an end to this circle with an agree to disagree. Then she turned to Peter, who was now facing forward with his back straight, ready to tackle this. "Peter, you don't have to speak but I will be happy to hear what you have to say."

May and Tony turned to him. The boy hesitated for a only a few moments before he stood up determinedly and sat by the table behind his abuser. He held up his hand as he swore oath.

"Can you tell us your name so we could have it for the record?"

"Peter Benjamin Parker."

"Thank you. I am happy to hear whatever you would like to say."

"Your-your honour, if I may, I have a letter?"

The judge nodded. "By all means."

Peter unfolded the paper and leaned towards the mic. He started reading, "You saw me in a library. I was reading a book about astrophysics and you approached me pretending to have an interest in what I was saying. You called me Einstein. I still can't even say the name in class without feeling like something is wrong with me.

"I was this kid who was happy to make a friend, because I didn't have a lot of them." Peter gulped, his throat starting to close up. "I sat you down with my aunt and uncle. We shared meals-" he halted, trying to regain control back into his voice. "I brought you into my life, and then you destroyed it. You betrayed my trust. What you did to me...it put me in a place where I felt like I was losing myself." His hands began to shake. "I didn't know how to live anymore-" The tears he had tried to so hard to keep at bay broke through his wall. If he spoke now he wasn't sure they would even understand him through the sobs. He needed to say what had been buried so long...but he couldn't stop goddamn crying.

Peter's spare hand went to his face, trying to rub off the tears. He spent a minute or two like that, breathing hard to calm himself down. The rest of the room waited, sympathy reflecting within their teary eyes.

He felt unmoored; after reflecting for so long on what he would say to Skip, he hadn't contemplated not being able to get the words out. At least when he had been scrawling down what he wanted to say on paper, there hadn't been a need to give voice to the story; he already knew it well. Now, everyone was listening attentively, giving him room to speak the truth.

Terror and anger prevented his speech from continuing. He could not find the right words to match what he was feeling. It was something he had only experienced one time before. It felt worse than any experience he had had going up against a villain as Spider-Man.

Queens' vigilante, blocked by simple syllables that anyone else could say.

As he sat there, breathing through his gasps and repeatedly wiping at his tear-stained face, he didn't notice that Tony had approached the table and sat beside him until the man gently pried the letter from his hands.

He held the letter in one hand, and rubbed Peter's back in comfort with the other, leaning to speak into the mic in his stead. "I lost my childhood," Tony's voice rang throughout the room. "You took it from me and I will never get that back. The trauma followed me for years and it still continues to follow me into adulthood. I will be taking it to my grave.

"I read a book once that called child sexual abuse 'soul murder'." Tony paused briefly. "And that is what you did. You murdered my soul."

He folded the letter and took a deep breath to compose himself. Peter was wiping away his tears with his sleeve. The courtroom was silent. "And can I just say," Tony began tersely, yanking his sunglasses out of his eyes, "that you would be lucky to spend the rest of your life in prison-"

"Sir," the judge reprimanded.

"-because if I ever got my hands on you-"

"Mr Stark!" He finally stopped. "Do I need to get the guards?"

Tony saw two men in uniform from the corner of his eye starting to shift closer and took a deep breath. "No." He straightened his blazer. "I'm good."

The hearing wrapped up and the three of them were left standing in the hallway. They could see Skip's family slowly dispersing, all the heads turning to him in sympathy. Some profusely apologised to Peter for everything he had gone through, some too ashamed to even approach the boy. Skip's mother apologetically hugged Peter and didn't notice they way he stiffened at her touch.

Finally, when it was just three of them, Peter excused himself to the bathroom, leaving his father and aunt waiting by a bench in the hallway.

After a moment of silence between him and May, Tony said, "I wanted to strangle him."

"I know you did," May said in understanding. "But that wouldn't have helped Peter."

"I know. That was the only thing holding me back." They both knew they couldn't risk anything Skip would use to get himself out. He could just imagine the press: Tony Stark Attacks Prisoner In Court.

Tony sighed. "I wish I was there. When it happened."

May looked at him in sympathy. She said reassuringly, "You were, Tony." At his confused look May explained, "Peter had this Iron Man helmet." She lightly laughed in nostalgia. "When you became a 'superhero' that was all he talked about."

Tony couldn't help but feel touched, even if he was already armed with that knowledge since before he knew about Peter.

May's smile faltered. "After everything happened, Peter wore that Iron Man helmet every day, including that day at the expo."

Tony recalled the conversation he had with May where she told the story of the Stark Expo. Ben had taken a young Peter to meet him. He vaguely remembered signing an autograph for the kid and later on saw him bravely stand up to the droid before Tony came up behind him and destroyed the thing before it hurt the kid. He couldn't even remember what he had said to Peter, but apparently Peter never forgot about it.

May continued, not noticing Tony reflecting on his memories. "The mask made him feel brave, because according to him, Iron Man wasn't afraid of anything."

Tony could hear his father's words in the back of his mind, Stark men were made of iron. It was like Howard had somehow ingrained the quote in their genes.

"He wore it every day until he felt okay enough to take it off. You helped him heal." She placed a hand on his arm. "You may have not been there," May said, "but you were there." She looked at him sincerely. "Thank you for being a part of his life, Tony. I'm glad you're here."

Something in her words made Tony feel like he had officially become part of the family. Up until now, he always felt an awkward distance between him and May, as if she was waiting for him to screw up. Honestly, he was expecting it too.

But today, as she rubbed his arm, he saw the look of acceptance in her eyes. Tony didn't realise how heavy the distance between them had been weighing on his chest until now.

xXx

A few weeks had passed and Peter was making his way to Tony's personal lab. He held the strap of his bag on one shoulder as he walked out of the elevator.

Happy had just dropped him off. The two had been making conversation about the most mundane topics, such as baseball teams, the new Camila Cabello album ("Who?" Happy enquired), and the controversial flavour of licorice (both made a gagging sound).

In the past few months Happy had made a better effort in getting to know Peter, not just because he was stuck driving him most of the time. Peter was more than pleased to get to know a person important to his father. Happy could be rough around the edges, but he softened up when prodded just a little longer (and bribed with his favourite dessert - carrot cake).

Peter didn't know that Tony hadn't trusted anyone but Happy to watch over him when Tony wasn't around to do it himself.

"Hey, Peter," Pepper greeted him as he passed one of the many study rooms in the facility. The room was just about the size of his own bedroom in the building, except it had a mini library and the walls lacked any movie posters. Pepper sat comfortably on the desk's chair, clad in jean shorts and a white t-shirt, hair up in a ponytail and surrounded by paperwork.

Peter walked in. "Hey, Ms Potts."

"What did I say about calling me Ms Potts?"

"Right, sorry!"

She smiled at him. After many meetings with investors, business associates and an unwarranted amount of people questioning her ability to run Stark Industries, Pepper enjoyed the company of the bright and ever-polite kid. "Visiting your dad?"

Peter nodded. "What have you got there?"

"Oh," she uncrossed her legs on the chair and stretched them out beneath the desk. "Just tedious work stuff. I'm finalising a contract with an independent research facility."

"Can I see?" Peter asked, genuinely interested.

Pepper hesitated, a habit developed when working for big corporations. After a moment of deliberation, she decided to let Peter look it over. It was part of Tony's philanthropy work and the kid was presumed to be taking over someday anyway, if he wanted. She knew Tony had updated his will at some point, so Pepper didn't see the harm in giving the kid a look into the work he could be doing in the future.

"See this?" she said, pointing at the first page in the contract. She continued to explain the index of the contract, the necessary steps taken to make sure nobody would steal any of the money raised for the project and would be sued out of their own trouser pockets if they did. Tony had once written a cheque to a non-profit children's foundation only to realise people were making their own profit in the backdoor from the donations. He outed them, started his own charities and made sure to do background checks before hiring anybody.

"I can't believe people would do that. Steal from their own foundation." Peter shook his head.

"Oh yeah," Pepper said. "Tony goes out of his way to make sure his money doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

Something about the way she said those words made Peter think about how Stark Industries used to be. When he was growing up and admiring the man, Peter had dug further into the background of Stark Industries. Throughout his childhood investigating, Peter had learned that Stark Industries, at one point, had been the leading weapons industry worldwide. However, someone from inside SI had been making illegal deals under the table, selling to people who intended to do harmful things with the weapons.

His young self remembered the change that had taken place - SI vowing to focus on creating technology for a brighter future and to get rid of the manufacturing of weapons entirely - after Tony had gone missing for months in Afghanistan.

Peter had pondered about asking Tony about what happened and what he saw that made him a changed man. But he knew better than to pry on sensitive topics that brought trauma better than anyone.

Almost twenty minutes passed before Tony knocked on the open door. FRIDAY had informed him that Peter was in the building but when his son didn't make an appearance he decided to head upstairs and find him.

"Hey," Tony greeted the two, looking at his fiancée and Peter sitting comfortably on the floor, papers scattered around them. He made his way into the room, settling himself onto the carpet beside them. "Whatcha doing?"

"Ms Potts-I mean, Pepper," Peter corrected, she gave him a thumbs up, "was explaining to me about the work you do."

"I was just giving him a few tips," Pepper said, modestly.

Tony knew Pepper didn't do 'a few tips' or anything half-assed. His ever-resourceful CEO and love of his life went above and beyond anything she set her mind to. That included giving Peter a complete tutoring session in how his company operated. "And what did we learn?"

"That people suck," Peter grumbled.

Tony raised his brow and then turned to Pepper. "I think you broke him."

Pepper sent him a playful glare. "It'll take more than that to break this bright-eyed vigilante," she said, making the kid blush. Bringing the pile of pages together and setting them on the desk, she got up and proclaimed, "I'll go order us some food."

"You're the love of my life, Pep!" he called out, his stomach already rumbling. He then turned to Peter. "What's up, kid?"

The kid shrugged. "Nothing much. Just that...I heard back from the hearing."

Tony snapped into focus. He had been trying to get through the parole offices after they hadn't received anything in days after the hearing. The snubby voices at the end of the line reassured him they will get back to them over the next four weeks. Needless to say, he hated that answer. But money could only get you so far. The rest was a waiting game. "And?" he anticipated.

"He won't be eligible for parole for at least thirty years."

Tony breathed out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank God."

"Yeah."

"You alright?" he asked Peter. The boy's face was unreadable.

"Yeah, of course. It's just… What happened has been haunting the back of my mind for so long and when I heard that he wasn't going to get out for a long time...it's like...it's like I got some closure. Because I know that when the time for his next parole hearing comes out...I'll be ready to speak then too. I'm not letting this happen to anyone else."

Tony nodded, feeling pride for his brave son. He wanted to reassure him that even if Skip made it out, he would never come near Peter again. Tony would make sure of that.

"And, Mr Stark?" Peter looked at him with hope and admiration glinting in his brown eyes. "Thank you, for being there. What you did for me in that courtroom, I can't ever repay you."

"Peter, you don't owe me anything. Ever."

The boy smiled, shyness suddenly overcoming him. "And, Tony?" His father turned his head at him, slightly tilting in interest. "I know you think you're not the best role model or whatever, but I think you're doing a really good job at this whole dad thing."

Tony blinked at him, not expecting that from Peter. He wasn't sure if he was ready to reflect on what his son had said and how it made him feel like he was doing something right with his life, something that wasn't tainted with his ego or his company's shifty past. Although Tony had many regrets about his downfall into parties and women, he was glad to have met Mary. Glad to have conversation with her and the night went as well as his young libidinous self had hoped. The fact the matter was, if none of that happened, if he didn't go to another New Year's Eve festivity and meet the mother of this boy, something empty within him that longed for more would've never stopped aching.

The two got up, Tony wrapping his arm around the kid's shoulder as they left the room. He may have never known it, but Peter had been that missing piece in his life.

END

AN: I got my information about the court hearing from here:

youtube . com (slash) watch?v=w0Ws5X1EPIQ&feature= &t=3355

Not gonna lie, guys. That court scene was fucking hard. And I wrote a lot of heavy shit over the years. If there is anything that came across as insensitive or inaccurate in any way, please tell me.

I know a lot of you wanted me to write Tony going on a revenge spree, but I wanted to keep it within the realm of possibility. The past few years have aged Tony, and he's at a point in his life where he has to keep a level-head, no matter how much his hands want to pummel this man. Also, I don't think Peter wants to risk his dad going to jail over this douché.

Anyway, I have set up a few ideas for the next part of the series. Stay tuned!