Morgan laid on her back on top of the work bench, tossing a stress ball up in the air and catching it upon its descent over and over. "Grand…grand…Grand…master?" suggested Morgan. "Is that guy even still around?"

"Grandiose?" Harley offered, his hands folded over her eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "The Grand Hotel?"

"Grandson?" said Peter, hanging upside down from the ceiling by a web. That thought sparked something. "Wait!" He dropped down to a crouch on the floor. "Grandfather… Morgan! Your grandfather!"

"Howard?" she asked, sitting up.

"Exactly! What things do you have here that belonged to him?"

Morgan shrugged. "Not a lot. They didn't exactly get along." She scoured the recesses of her mind. What could it be? "Wait!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "We've got a framed photo of him!"

"The one by the sink?" Peter asked. Morgan was a bit taken aback that he knew exactly where her dad kept this photo, but immediately nodded.

"Let's go get it!" Peter said, triggering his Spider-Man mask to cover his face.

"Wait!" Morgan cried, grabbing his wrist before he could go. "My mom's in there asleep. And those floorboards are real creaky."

"Okay then, I'll go!" Peter replied.

"You sure you know where it is?" asked Harley.

"Yep. The shelves in the corner over the sink. Kitchen's around the back."

"Be careful," Morgan warned. "We can't have her waking up and finding out what we're doing."

Peter chuckled, walking backwards confidently. "I'm the King of Stealth! It's practically in my name! Little known fact, but 'Spider-Man' is actually an acronym, with each letter spelling out all the things I can do. It stands for 'Stealth…' …uh…'Peeeeter?'" His expressive mask eyes widened as he clearly began to improvise. Every word he said accompanied an awkward finger-gun. "…'iiiiiIIII'…'Don't'…'Eat'…'Radishes?'"

Harley was unamused. "Might I remind you that it is two in the morning?"

"Yep, good call," Peter chirped, giving him a quick salute as he slung a web behind him. It made contact with the cabin's roof and whipped him around to the back of the house out of sight. "Be back in a minute!" he called behind him.


Peter made quick work of the kitchen window screen, popping it off with little effort. Then, he attached his fingertips to the outer glass and slid it all the way over slowly, allowing him enough room to crawl inside.

"Okay, Karen," he whispered to his A.I., "'Stealth' is the name of the game. Get in and get out unnoticed. Piece of cake."

CLANG! A pot clashed off the drying dish rack and onto the floor, disturbed by his foot as he was lowering himself in. Quickly, he grabbed it and froze, awaiting the inevitable sound of Pepper coming to investigate. When that never happened, he placed the pot back in place and took a deep breath. "Yeah! Stealth!" he whispered triumphantly.

He then glanced toward the corner shelves, bracing himself for what he knew awaited him there. Sure enough, the first thing his eyes found was the very reason he knew where the photo of Howard was; it was posed right next to a photo of him and Tony holding an upside down Stark Industries certificate between themselves. He hesitated upon seeing it.

"Peter?" Karen asked. "Is everything alright?"

Oddly enough, whenever Peter saw this image, his mind never went back to the moment in time in which the photo was taken. He remembered instead the first time seeing this memory framed, sitting right where it was presently. It took him back to his first time in this house which was, very tragically, the day of Tony's funeral. Many events of that afternoon were now distant and obscure to him, as it was rife with extremely raw emotions. After the service, Peter had forced himself to meet every person in attendance that day, knowing full well that such a gathering would probably never again happen, nor had it. He finally met Thor and Banner, properly introduced himself to King T'Challa, apologized profusely to Bucky and an equally unamused Sam for having fought them in the past, and finally had a complete conversation with Steve. He left his Aunt May talking to Happy in the living room as he made his way into the kitchen. There he found the boy he had noticed was near his own age, but had been standing apart from the others, standing alone over a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

"Hey man," Peter said with a smile. He introduced himself just as he had been to his heroes. "I'm Peter Parker. Spider-Man."

The boy's eyes went wide. "No way," he exclaimed.

Peter grimaced. "Yeah…I probably should stop telling people that. But I mean, you're here. You're family." He hesitated, not sure that he was entirely clear. "Keep that on the DL," he added.

The boy gave an understanding nod. "It's safe with me," he promised. "I'm Harley."

This was where they met. The two spoke for a long time, sharing their respective pasts and their histories with Tony. Though the details of how they had become close with the man they had both considered their mentor were very different, the overall effect was the same. It was undeniable—he had changed their lives by simply believing in them, and his sudden absence had left a considerable hole inside them.

Peter wasn't prepared for a tiny Morgan in her black dress to race into the kitchen, let alone to come right up to him. She clutched the same Iron Man action figure that, if proven to be true, already had had Tony's secret message within it. The sight caused Peter to freeze. Today was the first time he was aware that Morgan existed at all, and knowing he left behind a young daughter made Tony's loss all the more real. It was a reality he hadn't wanted to face, so he was careful to keep his distance from both her and Pepper.

The little girl was bright eyed and smiled up him, clutching her toy close to her chest. Peter was motionless. Harley stepped in. "Hey there!" he said, grabbing her attention. When she turned to him, he lifted her up to sit on the countertop between them. "I'm Harley," he said kindly. "You must be Morgan!"

"Uh huh!" she said with a nod of her head. "You're Peter," she said looking back to him.

Peter was floored. He stammered, "How, uh…how do you know my name, huh?"

Morgan pawed at her hair, stating matter-of-factly, "You're the boy in the picture."

He shook his head. "What picture?" When Morgan pointed to the shelf Peter now once again stood in front of, it took everything he had to not completely break down. He was framed and placed intentionally. Tony's dad, Tony's mom…him. He cleared his throat and asked her, "Did he…tell you about me?"

"Mmmhmm!" Morgan chirped. "You cut a boat in half and Daddy had to save the day."

"I didn't—" Peter protested. He took a deep breath, letting the actual facts of the story go in favor of Tony's version which, in a roundabout way, was true. "Yeah. Yeah he did."

Harley smiled warmly at Morgan, "Your dad did that a lot, huh?" he asked. "He liked saving everybody."

"I know," she said. She then raised her head and looked between the two boys as though sharing a secret. "My mommy said he's not coming home."

Peter and Harley were glued in place, uncertain of how to next proceed. Morgan's eyes flicked patiently between them. She had left the statement open, as though waiting for them to deny that truth. That's when Peter saw Pepper standing in the doorway watching them. She went unseen by the others, as their backs were to her, but she and Peter locked mournful eyes.

Harley blessedly took over like an expert. "That's right, Morg'," he said gently. "But he'll never really be gone forever. No one is as long as long as there's people like me and you and Peter here to remember him."

Pepper wiped away a tear and intervened. "Come here, baby," she cooed, gathering her daughter up in her arms. "Let's leave the boys alone. Come with me." Morgan wrapped her arms around her Mother's neck and held fast to her. Pepper gave a silent, grateful look to the boys, which they returned somberly. She mouthed a silent thank you and turned to go.

Before fully leaving, however, she turned back one last time. "You know he loved you, right? Both of you." They both nodded, but said nothing. She murmured, "You have families, you have lives. But to him, you were his kids too. And by proxy, that makes you mine as well. You always have a home here, okay?" Both boys were overcome, mumbling their gratitude to her. She gave a kind smile. "And besides, I want her to be surrounded by people who knew him so that she…" Her voice broke, so she took a moment before continuing, "Well…exactly as you said, Harley. So that he's never fully gone for good."

"We won't let her forget him," Harley vowed.

"Yeah, if there's anything you need…" Peter added, "Or she needs…"

"I can't exactly babysit from Tennessee," Harley said. "But if she needs a friend," he said, looking to Peter, "We'll be there."

That was the moment the boys agreed to always be there for their stand-in little sister. It was a promise that Harley would keep, and Peter would eventually come to avoid, but it all started in the same place on the very worst day of their lives.

"Peter?" Karen asked again. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Peter said, clearing his throat. "We're good." He reached around the picture of himself to retrieve the photo of Howard Stark. Flipping it over, he pried the tiny metal tabs that held the back of the frame in place. Wiggling it free, he looked inside.

His eyes went wide as he said, "Oh my god."


As they waited for Peter to return, after what had been far longer than a minute, Morgan stared at Harley. He gave an exhausted yawn, then noticed her gaze. "What?" he asked.

She smiled. "You know that I really appreciate all you've done for me over the years, right?"

He waved the compliment off. "Yeah, you're only saying that because you were spying on us."

She grimaced, "I mean, yeah, that might be why I'm saying it now, but I've always felt that way." She shook her head. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

He gave a small smile. "You'd be right here. Same as before." She opened her mouth to protest, but he countered with, "You said it yourself, Morg'—you can do anything you want to do. I molded you some metal for a suit. You could have figured it out yourself."

She was genuinely touched by the compliment, but before she had a chance to respond, Peter had returned, catapulting into the room unsteadily on one leg. He was panting. "Morgan! I can't—oh my god!"

"What?!" she exclaimed, rushing to him.

He retracted the mask and held up a small sliver of paper. Scrawled across it in the same handwriting was "Morgan: 1215147."

Harley zoomed in on the paper, taking a scan of it and analyzing it on his second screen. He sat back in his chair. "Oh my god…" he exclaimed.

Morgan was shaken to her core. "It's real?" she asked them. "You mean you believe me?"

Harley shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but…yeah. I think you might be onto something, Morg'."

"What is that, a phone number?" Peter asked. "That's seven digits."

"I'm not sure," she said, grabbing the paper from him and looking at it closer.

"What about the other clues?" Harley asked. "This was 'grand,' but we've still got 'new,' 'original,' and 'Stark' to go. I bet these numbers together spell out a code."

"What the hell, Dad?" Morgan asked, directing her question to the sky. "Why did you have to make this so difficult?"

"Whatever he hid," Peter said, "He wanted to make sure not just anyone could stumble upon it."

Harley agreed. "Yeah, and for Tony to do anything analog and not digitally, he must have wanted to ensure that no one who wasn't supposed to find it, did."

"'Original' and 'new…'" Morgan pondered. "The only thing I can think of is the suits."

"Yeah!" Peter said. "Well there you go! 'Original!' You've already found a clue inside the Mark I gauntlet, the original suit!"

Harley gave an uncertain, "eh" sound. "But that was the clue that is determining all of this," he said. "It's gotta be something else." He pondered for a moment. Finally saying, "Wait. What was the last suit Tony built?"

"The Mark LXXXV."

"Eighty-five?" Peter asked incredulously. "He was on fifty the last time I saw him. He seriously built thirty-five suits in just five years?" Morgan nodded with a smile. Each of those thirty-five attempts was a scrapped attempt to restore the galaxy to what it once was. "He truly never stopped building, did he?" Peter asked.

Harley had been typing furiously on his computer. "Morg'? You gave me total access to Tony's hard drive when we were building the III, right?"

"I should have!" she replied.

He searched his files, finally finding what he was looking for. He raised his index finger to open the file, but suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Morgan asked.

"There's…another suit here. The LXXXVI."

Peter and Morgan shared a shock glance. "Tony had plans for another suit?" asked Peter.

"Open it," Morgan said.

Harley did, and his face lit up. Pinching together all five fingers on his right hand, he grabbed his screen and swiped it over to the holofeed. "Look," was all he said.

What Morgan saw caused her to raise her hands to her head in equal parts glee and disbelief. There, they together found the exact same plans for the LXXXV, only in this rendering, each part was labelled with a number that had no other discernible context. In the top left corner of the plans, just like the clue Peter had found, was the name, "Morgan." They decided to write down the numbers clockwise, as it seemed to be intentionally arranged to be read in a circle.

"1497820," Peter read from a notepad he had scribbled the digits on. "This has to be some sort of password or code or something." He paused. "It's not a date, right?"

"I don't see how," Harley said, his eyes narrowed. "Unless 'original' helps fill in the blanks."

The three together fell silent, pondering what on earth "original" could mean. If "new" referred to Tony's newest suit, it would naturally make sense that its opposite would refer to the oldest. "What about something…something that incited all of this?" asked Harley. "Like his capture in Afghanistan? Obediah Stane?"

Morgan's face suddenly went white. "Oh god, no."

"What?" Peter asked.

Morgan buried her face in her hands. "No, no, no…" she repeated.

"Morgan! Speak!" Harley blurted.

After a moment, removed her hands from her face, balling up her left hand into a fist and holding it over her mouth. "The original arc reactor."

Peter quickly picked up on her meaning and his eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Somebody speak actual English words, or I'm hanging up!" Harley insisted.

Morgan gritted her teeth. "Dad put the clue in the original arc reactor." She swept her arm to the side, motioning to the pond outside. "We set the arc reactor adrift in the middle of that pond at his funeral."

Harley's eyes widened. "Shit."

A significant part of the puzzle was presently at the bottom of a deep pond, completely flooded and most likely having destroyed whatever handwritten note of numbers was placed inside.