AN: Okay, so you guys seem very reluctant to vote on the poll, so how about this: I'll post the chapters with the least votes first, take them off the poll, and you guys can duke it out over the remaining chapters? Sound good? Awesome B-D After so many depressing chapters of betrayal and backstabbing (even though that is the stuff of comic books ;)) I decided, how about something more uplifting? Or just less angsty. Anyway, here it is, the reunion you've been waiting for. Enjoy… B-)

New Spider in Town (Seriously, someone help me out with a title here! :-\)

13) Three Words, Eight Little Letters

Peter walked into the Moonbeam Café and glanced around. It didn't take long to spot a flash of red hair, now cut short, or the face that went with it. And the face really just said it all. Heather's blue eyes, so much like her mothers, narrowed as they caught sight of him and her expression was clear, What the hell are you doing here?

Good question, Peter thought absently, taking a booth seat where he could watch the foot traffic outside. He sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair. He didn't think he was ready for this. Two years. It had been two years since his daughter had left home, and nine months since she'd left Young Justice. So much had changed.

Soon enough, one of the waitresses, a pretty blonde wearing a contradictory scowl approached and offered to take his order in a thick Brooklyn accent.

"I'll just have a cup of coffee – black. And, uh…" He hesitated, taking a deep breath. "Would you please tell Heather that I'd like to talk with her, when she's not busy?"

The blonde, her name tag said Vicky, pursed her lips. "I'll tell 'er, but I gotta be honest Mista Parker, she ain't gonna be happy to see you." His accent reminded him of Harley Quinn, and he held in a frown of distaste at the idea of the crazed woman. He forced his concentration back to the present.

Peter nodded. "I know. Just tell her. Please?"

Vicky shrugged, "Your funeral Mista Parker." She walked off to check on someone else's meal.

That left Peter alone with his thoughts, which wasn't always a good thing these days. As if things weren't stressful enough with the Bugle, his work at Empire University, being Spiderman and supporting the League, now there was this to work through as well. But he'd promised himself and MJ that he would try. Heather may or may not be ready for this yet either, but he had to at least try to put this whole thing behind them.

He waited an hour and fifteen minutes. He knew this because he kept his eyes either on his watch or the clock over the pick-up window. When he wasn't studying the time slowly move passed, he studied Heather silently as she worked. She seemed to have the whole system down pat, which wasn't necessarily surprising as she'd been working there since she was in high school.

Heather smiled politely at every customer, showing attentiveness to their needs; she was friendly but without being too outgoing or chummy; she knew her orders forwards and backwards and never once got it wrong for even one patron; she knew the regulars and their orders, chatting only a minimum amount before getting their food quickly; and she knew how to interact with the staff. Peter had to say he was impressed by the amount of tips she collected as time wore on – she was clearly popular, as some patrons even asked to be served by her by name.

Peter was on his sixth cup of coffee, and had just about given up hope of talking with his daughter, when she suddenly sat down across from him. He observed silently as she smoothed out her uniform's skirt, ran her fingers through her hair, and placed her folded hands on the table. She stared at her chipped nail polish for a few seconds before taking in a deep breath and looking up.

"Hi," Peter said, smiling weakly.

Heather nodded stiffly. "Hey."

Silence, broken only by the chatter of other patrons and the clink of silverware, lay between them like a bottomless chasm. Heather made a small motion with her head, and suddenly Vicky was there laying an already filled coffee mug onto the table, refilling Peter's, and then she was gone again.

Heather wrapped her hands around the mug, soaking in the warmth before taking a small sip. With her cup poised in midair she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk," her dad replied simply.

"Are Audrey and Harry okay?" She asked with eyes glued to the dark liquid in her cup.

"They're fine."

"What about Mom? Aunt May?"

"Fine, fine, great really. Your mom is starring in that new play on Broadway, her biggest role yet, and Aunt May's heart is as strong as ever. She's even started teaching piano to kids again."

"Then what do we have to talk about?" There was more bite in the twenty year olds voice than she meant, but in truth she was irritated. The second Cold-War-type of standoff she and her Dad had been in the last couple of years might not have been pleasant, but it was better than the alternative of arguing almost constantly. Why was he trying to upset this already fragile situation?

He winced and looked away for a moment, watching the foot traffic outside. A man with a briefcase stepped off the curb with a cell phone clamped to his ear and hailed a cab. Two women walked down the sidewalk together, talking and laughing, several shopping bags held over their arms. A teenager stopped for the light, his rolled down windows displaying clearly how he was rocking out to his stereo, tapping the wheel, banging his head in time with the beat and generally looking silly. All these people were going about their lives like it was any other day... and to them it was. Peter almost envied them; how they were completely ignorant of the tension brewing just inside the diner.

He wished he could be too.

"Heather… honey, we can't keep this up," Peter finally said, turning back to the situation at hand.

Heather closed her eyes and shook her head a tad, running her fingers through her short hair again. It was a habit she'd picked up recently, that much he could tell. It was almost shocking how brief of a gesture it was, but then her hair was very short now. The image itself was still a tad jarring to Peter.

Whenever he pictured his daughter, he still saw her long hair framing her face; in a pony tail, in braids, or just hanging around her heart shaped face. He remembered how she was constantly pulling it back for missions, how it seemed continually in her face no matter what she did. When she'd come to drop off Audrey and Harry a month ago, after spending the day with them, to say the drastic change was surprising would be an understatement. He couldn't quite get used to it.

"Dad," Heather muttered eventually, "what are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to fix this, Heather," Peter insisted, reaching to place his hand over her own. She pulled her elbows off the table and held her mug close, looking away. His hand stopped halfway and dropped to the tabletop. "I'm tired of the fighting, of getting the cold shoulder from you."

She gave him a narrowed death glare, her tone icy. "Welcome to what my life was like for two years."

He grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know, I know. I realize now that I…"

"That you, what?" the redhead demanded.

Peter sighed ever so softly. "You're so much like your mother it's almost scary," he murmured. Louder, he pleaded, "Heather, I'm sorry. I was an ass. I treated you like a child, when you deserved much better. I was just so worried about you getting hurt that I…" he trailed off again, but this time she didn't press him, instead waiting for the rest.

He continued a moment later, "I was afraid of losing you. You have no idea how many times your mom, or Aunt May, or someone else I care about has been put in danger because of me. I didn't want you to have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life like I do."

Heather chewed on this silently, staring into her cup. "But it was my choice," she said softly, her voice much kinder than before, though still a bit cool. "It was my choice to take this road. I could have ignored this chance and lived a normal life. I knew that option was always open to me."

Peter nodded. "Yes, I realize that now. I just thought that if I pushed you hard enough, you'd quit and I wouldn't have to worry anymore. So I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I insulted you, and did everything I could to discourage you. I see now it was the wrong course to take, and I apologize for that, but it seemed right at the time."

This time, Heather looked out the window thoughtfully. "Do you remember, when I was ten, I went on a school field trip to the zoo?" she questioned softly.

He pondered it a moment and nodded. "Yeah, I think I remember, vaguely."

"We were coming over the bridge on the way back," she continued, almost in a daze as the memory washed over her, fresh as ever, "I was sitting in the front so the big kids wouldn't pick on me. Then I looked out the window and saw something much scarier. Hobgoblin, laughing that awful laugh, flew overhead with pumpkin bombs. Spiderman was chasing him, and they started to fight. Hobgoblin got in a good right hook, and while Spiderman was distracted he threw bombs onto the road in front of my bus."

Understanding dawned in Peter's eyes as he more clearly recalled that day. He couldn't recollect exactly what Hobgoblin had stolen from some lab – Stark Enterprises maybe, or perhaps it had been Star Labs – but he remembered the ramifications quite well.

"The bus driver swerved to avoid the bomb and hit the guardrail. Another bomb exploded, and suddenly the whole bus tipped forward as the bridge fell away beneath us," Heather bit her lip. "That was probably the scariest day of my life. Kids were screaming, something was on fire, and acrid smoke burned my lungs… Then suddenly, there you were, helping kids off the bus. I was the only one left. You'd almost gotten me off when a cable snapped and we plunged toward the river." She placed a hand over her mouth, swallowing a sob that rose suddenly in her throat.

This time, when Peter's hand reached across the table it met its target, squeezing her hand comfortingly. He smiled, in that way that she'd always taken as meaning everything was okay, ever since she was a girl. Taking comfort in the expression now, she finished her story.

"You caught me and saved me. When we were back on the bridge, I told you that I didn't care what anyone else thought or said. You'd always be a hero to me…" she took a steadying breath. "When I found out who you were and that I had powers too, the first thing that came to me was, 'with great power, comes great responsibility'. I finally understood what that meant. That's why I wanted to someday take up your mantle, to become your protégé. Not because it was fun, although it has its perks… the toys are amazing."

He chuckled.

She smiled. "I wanted to, because I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted to carry on the legacy you built, to protect this city like you. That was all I ever wanted."

Peter kissed her hand gently. "Honey, I've always been proud of you. You may be stubborn as a mule sometimes, and we don't always agree, but I am proud. How could I not be? You're my daughter. It doesn't matter if you carry on the legacy or not, just as long as you'll still be my brave little girl."

Tears glistened in the corner of Heather's eyes. "Thanks Dad," she took a shuddering breath. "I'm proud of you too. And not just for the stuff you do in the suit. I'm proud because you're my Dad. I really wouldn't want anyone else as substitute. I'm sorry that I've been so headstrong – I got over being mad at you a long time ago, I just didn't know how to say so."

Peter gave her a rueful smile. "I'm sorry too. I should have realized you could handle anything you set your mind to, you always have. I was never angry, just worried. But I couldn't figure out how to tell you either. I should have tried a long time ago."

"At least we've said it now," Heather offered with a soft smile. "I love you Dad."

"I love you too."

She ran her fingers through her hair again, glancing around the restaurant. She was relieved to see that her friends had covered her tables while she was gone. The diner was nearly empty now, the lunch rush long over. "You want some pie? Leila baked up a couple of fresh blueberry ones this morning."

He nodded. "That sounds great."

AN: Well, while it got sappy at the end (even for my fluffy tastes) I'm pretty satisfied with this, and I hope you guys are too. When I posted "Meet the Family" a reviewer had asked when Heather and Peter would patch things up, if ever, and I'd said at the time that I wasn't sure, just that it would happen eventually. Well, now it has, so see? I keep my promises… mostly ;) Please review guys, I'd appreciate the support, and please send in ideas for a new name for this story, either in a review or in a PM. I have a poll up on my profile with the current ideas I've been toying with, and if you send in something really good, I'll put it up with the rest of the choices (you'll even get credit for thinking it up B-) :cough: bribe :cough::wink:) Thanks for reading.