Chapter 64 - Twist of Fate

There was still rubble on the street. Enough that his driver had to actively avoid it. His sunglasses, the darkest he could find, in addition to the tinted windows of the car, gave Queens the moody look it deserved, very much in line with Tony's own mood. Most of the street wasn't even robed off, not like he had expected. He would have thought that Clarke would have an officer stationed on every corner, guarding every little piece of trash that looked even remotely like Peter Parker could have touched it at some point.

Or maybe Tony just didn't see the officers because the street was flooded by too many reporters and on-lookers. Photographers, television crews, all of them had descended onto the block where Tony Stark's long lost son had lived for all these years. The driver pulled up to the entry of the apartment building. With the privacy screen separating him from the front of the car, at least Tony didn't get to hear a useless "We're here, Sir."

Like he didn't know. Like he hadn't set foot into this building months ago. Months ago, when even with the aftermath of Ultron, the world had seemed a little simpler, though just as dark. He waited for another minute until the security personnel he had brought along with him had cleared the path to the front door. A quick swipe at his watch had his inbox pop up. Nothing from Barton. Nothing from Pepper. Things would go ahead as planned then.

Tony readjusted his glasses before he pushed open the door of the car. The reporters that surrounded him were hard to ignore even at a bit of a distance, shouting the same questions over and over again.

"How is Aiden?"

"What can you tell us about your son's injuries?"

"Are you expecting any criminal charges?"

"How does it feel to have your son back after all these years?"

"Will you sue May Parker in a civil suit?"

The glasses helped shield his face, made it easier to keep his head held high and walk past them seeming stronger, so much more sure of himself than he was. A few long strides later, he was met by Maria Hill at the entrance of the apartment building. He followed her closely first through the door, then into the elevator car. They left the security guards behind on the ground level.

"You look like shit." She didn't even have her eyes on him but on her phone as she pressed the button for the 4th floor of the building.

"So I've heard." He had to keep himself from reaching for the dirty walls as the elevator rattled into action. His head was throbbing from the weird clanging noises as it made its ascent to the upper levels.

"Anything new?"

She was referring to his little underground meeting earlier that day, he was clear about that. "He had nothing."

Maria's eyebrows shot up and she did take her eyes off her phone then. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Well..." She blew out a long breath. "Well, fuck."

"Yeah."

Tony had refused to take off his glasses, not just because he was effectively hiding behind them but also because the bright neon light in the elevator would have made his eyes hurt.

"Now what?"

Tony's jaw popped in agitation. "I'm all out of ideas, to be honest."

Her eyes were still on him, studying him. "We'll find something."

Yeah, that's what people kept saying but he wasn't all that sure anymore. Maybe this was the time for a different strategy. Maybe this was the time for a deal. Where Clarke was an irrational asshole, Ross on the other hand was a man to be bargained with. He wanted power and control alright, but his first instinct had been to control the Avengers, not to destroy them. Maybe—

"Tony, we'll find something."

"Yeah, I heard you. Any news on the progress with Barnes?"

"We're waiting to hear back from the DA's office."

Well, he couldn't fucking wait for that. The elevator doors opened onto the 4th floor and Tony didn't lose a second to get out of that death trap. The hallway had two, no three of Maria's agents stationed in different spots. Even if he hadn't been to the apartment before, it would have been pretty obvious where he was heading. So this is where Clarke had instructed his own people to keep watch. Not his worst move.

Two officers flanked the door to the apartment, or rather what was left of the frame. The door in fact was gone, yellow police tape the only thing that obstructed the rooms behind it from noisy neighbors' eyes. Tony recognized one of the officers. Something with a J. Jackson, no... Jacobs... No. Jones? It didn't matter. The punk that had his hands on Tony's little boy at the hospital.

"Mr. Stark. This is the site of an active police investigation." The smug expression on his face had Tony's fingers twitch. "It's off-limits to civilians."

One day. One day Tony would get a chance to lay one on that guy and he wouldn't pass it up.

Maria stepped up and produced the court order their lawyers had secured. The kid's stuff was his to take. All of it. As victories went, this was a good one. A few more of those and they might stand a chance.

At least he got the pleasure of the officer's face turning sour as he fished out his phone from the inner pocket of his uniform. "Dawson, you catalog every single item they take!"

Office J-something turned away, already on the phone reporting back to Clarke. They'd have to be quick about this. Another judge could get Clarke an injunction in less than half an hour if they argued that removing the boy's belongings could be messing with their case against May Parker.

One deep breath and he ducked underneath the tape, careful not to step onto any of the debris that still littered the apartment floor. The first thing his eyes were drawn to was the hole in the back wall of the living room where a window used to be. Even now, more than 24 hours after all this had gone down, Tony still didn't really know what had happened inside these walls. Not that the details would change much about the outcome. Barnes had broken down the door, that much was obvious. Barnes had fired at them. There were bullet holes in the walls. Most of the fight must have occurred in the living room. Broken furniture, glass shards, but no sign of blood anywhere. Natasha and Clint really had taken care of that then.

"I'd say take your time and look around but..."

"Yeah." Tony gave a short nod in Maria Hill's direction while his eyes lingered on the one door in the apartment that had remained close. Not the kid's room, but May Parker's own bedroom. "Better be fast about it."

Maria had a hand on his back pushing him along to the room his kid had lived in for these past years, helping him maintain the illusion that he didn't know where he was going. "There are boxes, if you want to pack anything specific. Let me know when you're done and what you want to take. I'll have my agents pack up whatever you need."

"The kid's room."

"Stop right there, Stark!" Jackson-Jacobs-Jones was on his heels. "You're not taking anything! We're getting an order to contest your claim as we speak!"

Tony turned to face him, his expression schooled with cold disinterest. "Got that order with you?" He crooked his head a bit, eyebrows raised just enough that they would peek over the rim of his glasses as Officer J's face turned an impressive shade of magenta. "Didn't think so." He cleared his throat. "Everything in there, Agent Hill."

Maria nodded. "Yes, Sir. Anything else?"

Tony's lip was caught between his teeth but then he shook his head. They couldn't risk that, had to at least appear like they intended to follow the rules. He could only hope that it would be good enough to mask what was going on behind the scenes.

It took him just a few minutes to pack the essentials in the kid's room with the lackey Jones-Jabos had brought along breathing down his neck. Some clothes first. He'd have FRIDAY order a few more things, whatever the boy wanted, but all this... This was stuff that he knew, the stuff he would feel comfortable with.

The one thing Tony would need to find sooner rather than later was the phone. The tracker placed it somewhere in the kid's bedroom. He looked around the desk, pulled open a couple of drawers that had mostly schoolwork in them. He shuffled through the documents expecting the phone to be buried on the bottom of the drawer somewhere but that's not what he found. Instead, he found a dark wooden picture frame. The glass was a little stained with dust but he couldn't tear his eyes from the photograph nonetheless. The kid couldn't have been older than 5 when it was taken. Well, no he couldn't for that were Mary and Richard Parker in the picture with him. Mary had the boy on her lap, arms wrapped around him while the kid snuggled close. Richard stood behind them, smiling broadly into the camera.

There was a knot in his stomach just looking at it, his little boy in the arms of someone else. Strangers when he had been searching for him in every corner of the world. 5 years old at best, little cheeks still round and full. In that picture, he looked a lot more like that two-year-old toddler that Tony had been imagining whenever he had thought of Aiden. All these years—

No. No, he couldn't think about that. Not right now, not any time soon. He had to focus for that enhanced teenager that was still recovering at the Tower who was here right now, needed him. Needed him sharp and focused, even if all of this was impossible and sucked to no end. Even if the boy was determined to think the worst of him.

It took him only a couple more minutes until he finally found the phone in one of the smaller drawers at the top of the desk. Phone and frame wandered into the box along with two of notebooks from the kid's desk, a couple sets of clothes, his backpack, four small Star Wars Models that sat next to the bed as well as the boy's laptop. He had found the set of tools he had given Peter for his birthday in another one of the drawers, stared at them for a few moments, then slammed it shut and made his way back into the living room.

He just nodded at Maria and she waved in one of her agents. "Do you want this all dropped off at the Tower?"

Tony's eyes were still shifting over the rubble the fight had left behind before he forced himself to focus, clutching the box in his hands a little tighter. "No." He cleared his throat, trying to shake the emotions that clung to him at the sight of the apartment. "Compound. Basement level. FRIDAY knows where."

"Alright. We'll finish up here then."

As much as the officers were visibly itching to stop him, they hadn't managed to produce the legal means to do so in time and he left without another look at either of them, couldn't stand to stay another moment in that apartment. The ride back to the Tower seemed just as agonizingly long as the way there. 25 Minutes, almost 30 he should have used to research, to dig his way out of this mess, but he could only sit in the backseat of the Bentley, the box of Peter's things on his lap. He couldn't deny that painful squeeze his heart gave every time his gaze wandered to that dark wooden picture frame. He didn't even see it, the picture, as the frame was facing down.

He needed to get a grip of himself.

Back at the Tower, he rode the elevator up to the 68th floor but hesitated when the doors opened to the penthouse. The living room area was empty. Pepper was either in the office or, well, or taking care of his kid. If she wasn't with the boy, Rhodey would be.

Tony closed his eyes just for a second. He should let them be, give him time. Give himself some more time. So he placed the box on the ground just next to the elevator, fished out the phone as well as the laptop before he instructed FRIDAY to inform Pepper that he had left it there. Tony went to his lab instead. He found Barton sitting on his workbench, his own box right next to him.

"So?"

"It's everything I could find in the time I had." Barton shrugged. "I think you'll be happy with it though."

"Will I?" Tony raised his eyebrows at the agent and flipped off the lid of the box. "Where was this?"

"False bottom of the underwear drawer."

Tony grimaced and sent a rather put-off look in Barton's direction. "You searched through the lady's underwear drawer? Jeez, Clint."

"Hey," the other man shrugged. "It's a common hiding place and I'm not the one that came up with it." He crossed his arms, a more serious expression on his face. "Didn't find anything there actually. Not in her underwear drawer. Was all men's stuff in that particular one."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, May Parker has a drawer full of men's underwear? And that's where she—"

"No, actually. Not sure these were hers." Barton shook his head. "I found documents in a shoebox in the back of her closet, too. Birth certificates. Contracts. These kinds of things. But this..." He pushed Tony's hands away and shuffled through the paper files in the box himself. "It's stuff about corruption. Bribery. Donations. Those kinds of things."

He pulled out a folder, opened it up and pressed it into Tony's hands. There were newspaper articles, copies of court documents, even a request for body-cam footage filed under the Freedom of Information Act.

"What..." Tony shook his head. "What the fuck am I looking at?"

"I think..." Clint blew out a low breath. "I think those were Ben Parker's."

#

It was the first time since... well, since the last morning in his room in Queens that Peter was all alone. It had just been a day and he couldn't quite wrap his mind around that. How had it only been one day since his whole life had gone belly up? Only about an hour ago, Doctor Cho had dislodged the IV from his hand, given him a bit of a break from the drip when he had promised he would eat. There had been lots of fruit, steamed vegetable, and more soup for lunch and he had regretted that promise then. Would have done anything for a burger and some fries but would have never dared to even suggest it to Pepper. Now though, now he was glad he had battled on. That it had given him a little space, a little more freedom to move.

The bathroom connected to his room— connected to the guestroom— He tried to clear his head, to focus. That room that had unofficially become his over the last few months. The bathroom was bigger than the one in their apartment. With all that room, it still hadn't been a bit of a task not to catch a glimpse of himself in that large mirror above the washbasin. He hadn't been ready but there was only so much he could do to avoid it altogether. He had washed his hands, turned off the faucet, and then with all the willpower he could find within himself, had looked up at his own reflection.

His face was pale. It made the bruise on his temple stand out even more distinct. It was still blue, slightly on the side of purple. Usually, he'd heal faster than this but Doctor Cho had explained to him again, just as she had taken him off the drip, how his energy levels were still low after everything that his body had to compensate in the last week. His hands still wet from the water, he rubbed at his eyes, then his whole face. It didn't hurt but he couldn't ignore the low throbbing in every spot where his face had been cut and bruised. He stayed clear of his neck. It was still bandaged up, some salve was supposed to cool his skin, support the healing, but his skin underneath the bandage throbbed hotly all the same.

He did look like shit, no wonder everyone was freaking out. If this was what he looked with his body healing faster still than average, how bad was May? His eyes stung and he swallowed hard, regretting it right away as his throat throbbed with the strain. Where he had people bending over backward to take care of him, she was all alone.

Peter pulled away from the mirror, his heart aching. There had to be something he could do. Some way he could help her. His hand on the handle of the door he could tell there was a vibe. Nothing strong, just a low humming frequency he could feel in his bones that told him that he wasn't alone any longer.

He hadn't expected her. Of all the people he could think of that might show up in his room, Natasha Romanoff was not all that high up on the list. He'd have assumed Mr. Stark would veto that, but then he didn't really know anymore what the man would do next. She had her back leaned against the wall just next to the door that led out into the corridor, arms crossed in front of her. She didn't look up but there was no doubt in his mind that she had heard him open the door.

The last time he had seen her had been at the hospital only the day before as she had bandaged his wrists. His hands twitched, his right one finding the wrist of his left, fingers softly picking at the bandage that was still wrapped around his skin. It wasn't the same dressing she had put on but he could still feel the pressure of her fingers as they had worked. He didn't know what he would have done, what would have happened if she hadn't been there. She had undoubtedly been his lifeline in there, hadn't just shielded him but actively kept Clarke and his people from exposing him.

She looked up then, turned her eyes to him, but Peter couldn't quite find the courage to look at her directly.

"It's good to see you up on your feet."

He jerked his head in an awkward mix of silent acknowledgment and dismissal. Her concern was genuine. Probably. He didn't need anyone's pity though, instead focused on getting on with it.

"Thank you for..." Peter bit his lip hard, then cleared his throat before he continued. "For what you did at the hospital and... and with the sample. I..." He gave his head a small shake. "Thank you."

She didn't move. Not right away, just stood there, looking. "Don't thank me. That was all Tony and Helen."

That wasn't true. He knew that wasn't true. A queasy feeling made Peter's stomach turn nonetheless, eyes anywhere but on her.

"Though I assume you've thanked them already, right? For managing to keep your cover. For getting you out of there in just a few hours."

"I..." His cheeks burned hot. This conversation had taken such a rapid turn his head was spinning.

"Surely you thanked Pepper. Getting there fast enough, managing to get the judge to order your release. The press aside, without it Clarke might have stuck with his threat, might have thrown Tony out and then there would have been very little for me to do. Very little for anyone to do."

It was like he had a different person in front of him. Not the woman who had been there for him at the hospital, who had told him that he'd be safe. That he would just have to trust in that. Who had held his hand. His knees were weak. Maybe from exhaustion. Maybe... maybe not. Maybe it was that shallow buzz of guilt that was creeping up from his stomach ever since she had started talking.

"Peter—"

"Can you..." He shook his head, swallowed hard, an attempt to keep the queasiness at bay. "Can you... can you not call me that. Please."

She was silent for only a moment. "What do you want me to call you?"

"I..." He rubbed one hand across his face and flinched when the legs of the chair scraped over the ground as she stood up.

"Fuck's sake. Just... Come on." She was next to him in a heartbeat. "Let's just get you back on the bed, okay? Just sit back down."

"It's... it's fine. I'm fine." He didn't resist her guiding him back to bed but made a point to pull his legs up himself when he had sat back down among the sheets. He was okay. He didn't need to be babied. It was just... all of it, it was a lot.

"What are you doing, kid?"

He shook his head. "I... I don't..."

"Do you even know how lucky you got? How reckless you were? Going after Barnes... I mean, are you fucking kidding me?"

"I... I had to." Peter's eyes were burning but he chanced a glance at her anyway, then blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with her. "I had to. He... he wanted to kill us, he... he almost—"

"Okay, pro-tip: when someone tries to kill you, next time: run in the opposite direction, okay?"

He looked away from her, down at his hands. It wasn't fair. They all acted like he was just a little kid when he wasn't. He could still help, just like he had done before in Manhattan or in Germany.

"I told you to stay put." Her voice wasn't raised but so tightly compressed it sure felt just the same as being yelled at. "And you? You run after him and pick up his damn gun?"

He shook his head. It wasn't like he had planned to do that but sitting on his hands hadn't been an option. He had run all out of options. Did she actually want him to apologize for that? He wouldn't. He wasn't sorry. Not for that. There was only one thing he was sorry for.

"Have you... have you seen my aunt?"

She blew out a low huff and sat down.

"You've been at the hospital, right? Have you—"

Without pulling the chair any closer to his bed, she leaned back, arms crossed, her gaze still fixed on him. "I have."

"Is..." His eyes stung. "Is she okay?"

"Maybe you'd know if you hadn't fucking run. Hadn't left her behind in that apartment."

"I... I had to!"

"No, you didn't. The only thing you had to do was to keep your head down!"

He did now. Literally. His head bowed low, eyes unfocused on the sheets.

"What is this?"

Peter blinked away the frustration that was stinging in his eyes and followed her eye line as she stared at the picture that he had popped up on his bedside table.

"It's..." He bit his lip, looking away from it, eyes cast back down. "Just a picture."

"Where did you get this?" Her tone was neutral but the way she monotonously put emphasis on every single word of that sentence had him get defensive.

"Miss Potts gave it to me."

The Widow blew out a shallow huff. "Idiot," she whispered and then he felt her eyes turn to him. "And you believed that?"

Peter shook his head, urging himself not to play into her hand whatever it was that she was planning. "I... I'm not an idiot! I... Don't—"

"Not you," she groaned. "How do you think she got it?"

"Wh—what?"

"Pepper. Where do you think she got that picture?"

He shook his head, not following.

"Is this yours? Your frame?"

Peter's fingers picked at each other. "I... Yeah. Yeah, it's mine."

"So you think she went and got it from the apartment? From your room maybe?"

Heat rose to his cheeks, his eyes still burning. "I... I don't know what—"

"Jeez, kid. Who do you think went to that apartment to get your stuff?"

"I... I don't know. I... I guess they... they would have hired someone or... I... I don't know."

"For someone who is supposed to be super clever, you can be really dense. Do you just not want to see it?"

Peter bit his lip hard, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. It was clear what she was insinuating. Even if that was true. Even if Mr. Stark had gone to the apartment himself, had looked through his desk and found that picture then—

He tried to keep his breathing measured. It did sound like something the man would do. Rummage through his things. There had been clothes in the box. Some of his stuff. The backpack. He hadn't asked Miss Potts for his laptop but now he could make an educated guess where that had ended up.

She startled him as she reached for the frame. The way she held it, that she had her fingers on it in the first place, irked him. A lot.

"You know what they did? They bought you. From a bunch of criminals who traffic children. That's who these people are. They didn't care about what was legal, they just took what they wanted to have."

Anger was burning brighter in his chest. "That—That's not—" He shook his head. "They took... took care of me and... and made sure I was okay. They—"

They had loved him. They had. His parents. May and Ben. They had done everything, gone as far as facing jail time to keep him safe. Had... had died for him. Her eyes were still on him and he pulled up his knees to his chest, struggling to find just a little bit of shelter from her stare.

"There was this boy I met a couple of days ago that outright threatened me if I were ever to hurt Tony again." She crooked her head, eyes narrow. "Where did he go?"

Peter rubbed a hand across his eyes, willed himself not to cry. He didn't want to cry in front of her, couldn't give her that victory.

"These people," she waved the frame in her hand. "They made his life an agony for more than a decade. They might have not outright stolen you, but they made damn well sure that you didn't find your way back to where you belong. And it's their side you pick? May Parker you ask for?"

His face was pressed against the top of his knees, curled in on himself. The beat of his heart was throbbing in his ears so loudly, it seemed to echo off the walls. It wasn't true. Well, not really true. May... she didn't know. She couldn't have known. Not about his... his DNA. They all acted like he was this deprived, mistreated charity case that was in need of rescue. Like he hadn't been loved. Like his home had been a lie. May, she just... she did her best and she didn't deserve—

"Tony is trying to save your ass, kid."

"I don't need him to save me!" His voice was high and loud, no control left whatsoever. "I can—"

"Don't need him? Well, about 24 hours ago the way you clung to your dad in that hospital, desperate for his help looked a little different."

"I..." He shook his head, taken aback by her bluntness. "Don't... don't call him that, I..."

She raised her eyebrows. "Your father then?"

"That's... no, that's not—" Peter shook himself, trying to get that idea out of his head.

"Well, he is. He is your father, boy, and you should be thanking whatever twist of fate has made it him. If it wasn't for him you'd be stuck in an enhanced cell next to Steve, if not shipped off to the Raft already. And the fact that he is even willing to help that woman? Most people in his position would take the stand to make the case for the prosecution. Tony turning against her, that's what would get her that life sentence."

"Hey!"

Peter hadn't even registered the door, hadn't realized that the Colonel had busted into the room.

"What the hell is going on?"

Romanoff rose from the chair, stood tall opposite him.

"Pete, you okay?"

Peter's knees were still pulled up high, one arm slung around his legs as he rubbed the other across his face, trying to pull himself together. He couldn't think straight. If... if Mr. Stark were to... If he testified at May's trial, Tony Stark could sway any jury, couldn't he? If... if he decided that she needed to pay for... for what all these other people had done—

"Nat." Rhodey's eyes flickered back and forth between Peter and the spy. "The fuck are you doing in here?"

Her eyes were still on Peter. He could still feel her stare. "Looking for the man of the house."

"Well, he's not here, is he?" Goosebumps spread across Peter's skin as Rhodey stepped up next to the bed, one hand resting on Peter's shoulder.

"No. He's not." She had her arms crossed, face blank.

"I thought..." Rhodey gave his head a small shake. "I thought you were going to stick to the hospital."

"I was," she shrugged. "Can't really hang around there 24/7 though. Plus, there are new developments that will have me refocus my time elsewhere."

"New developments," the Colonel asked, his voice cracking. "What new developments?"

"Barnes will stand trial. They moved him to underground cells at the headquarter. They'll fast track it. Might start as early as next week."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. He sat up a little taller, his eyes on the Colonel. Barnes would be on trial. What... what would that mean?

Rhodey's lips were pressed together tightly, as he breathed deeply, digesting what he had just heard. "Does Tony know?"

"No." She pursed her lips. "I assume he also doesn't know yet that May Parker has been indicted for child abduction in connection with identity fraud about an hour ago."

###

[author's note: Alright, I was a little late with this one. I do suck at sticking to a deadline. Next one should be up faster. Have an awesome weekend, guys, and thank you as always for the lovely comments and following the story along!]