The Legacy of a Hero
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Heather kept a seat between herself and Peter in the cab, occasionally glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as the city slid passed outside. He looked like he hadn't slept more than an hour, his hair damp from a shower, the bruising from last night already fading to a sickening shade of yellow. Weirdest of all, at least aside from the obvious reasons why this was weird, was the backpack he had brought with them. The backpack looked ancient, the straps dirty and worn, and she spotted a hole near the bottom seam. She'd never seen Peter with it before, and it looked nothing like the bag he used to tote his papers and laptop to and from the university campus.
Heather almost asked about it, but then decided it wasn't worth it. She rubbed her eyes and stared down at her knees, still not quite believing that the broken skin from last night had already knit back together. How is this my life? Sometimes... I almost wish I could forget about all of this. But if I forgot about this, would I forget about Dad too? What am I going to do when I meet him? He left me… but did he do it willingly, or did someone make him? Could I…?
She hardly dared even think it, but it was there nonetheless. She loved her mother, her siblings, but how could she live in the same house as the man who'd pretended to be her father? If he'd have her, if he offered, would she go live with her Dad... with Ben?
Yes. She would. In a heartbeat.
"Is - is this where he lives?" Heather faltered outside of the large building on the upper east side, the architecture vaguely Victorian with it's pointed roofs and the large round stained glass window at the top. It seemed much older than the buildings around it, and yet better maintained, the paint as crisp as if it had been done that day, not a shingle or shutter out of place.
Peter frowned at her. "Doctor Strange? Yeah. This is what they call the Sanctum. It's one of the most secure buildings in the world. You can't even see the building if you don't know it's here, or you have bad intentions."
Heather folded her arms, annoyed. "I meant Dad. You said you were taking me to see him. Is he here?"
Something in Peter's expression softened, and it immediately pissed her off. "We're going to see him. But we have to stop here first. Come on."
Stop treating me like I'm made of glass, she thought, following him up the steps to the front door, waiting impatiently while he rang the bell. Give me a straight answer for once in your life. Or is that seriously too hard to ask?
The door opened and Heather blinked in confusion. No one was standing on the other side. Peter walked in like this was normal, and after a moment's hesitation she followed. The double doors swung shut behind them, again all on their own. Heather's eyes scanned the doorframe, looking for automatic hinges, but there were none. The door looked just as ordinary and ancient as the house.
Deciding she could think about that later, Heather scanned the front hallway, taking in the grand staircase and the many glass cases full of antiques. The curtains on the windows looked heavy and expensive, and the ornate rug under her feet felt plush. It felt like she'd stepped into a museum.
"What is this place?" She found herself asking in a hushed tone.
"It's my home, and you two are intruding," someone said, clearly annoyed.
She spun back towards the staircase. How did he -? Where did he come from? There wasn't anyone there a minute ago. And why didn't my spider-sense go off?
At the top of the staircase landing stood a tall thin man with black hair graying at the temples and a neatly groomed goatee. He wore blue robes that reminded Heather of a karate gi and a red cape around his shoulders which fluttered in the breeze. Which didn't make sense, because they were inside, and there was no breeze. Maybe it's the air conditioning?
"It's good to see you, Stephen," Peter said, a little sadly.
"As I recall, the last time we met Parker, I told you never to come here again." Dr. Strange came down the staircase, his eyes fixed on Heather. She shifted back a step uncomfortably. Her spider-sense seemed to be working over time suddenly, warning her that this man was dangerous. Strange stopped in front of her a polite distance away, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief that he wasn't trying to get in her space. "It is, however, good to see you again, Heather."
Heather glanced back at Peter uncertainly. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"
"We have," Strange acknowledged, giving her an almost fatherly smile. "You were very little, and it was less than ideal circumstances. I'm not surprised you don't remember."
"That's why we're here," Peter said quickly, taking a step towards the doctor. "I was hoping, you know, since so much time has passed that maybe you could-" The hand Peter had been about to put on Strange's arm was suddenly seized by the red cape around the doctor's shoulders.
"Whoa!" Heather skittered back, bumping into one of the glass display cases, making it rattle. "Did your cape just move?"
"It's a cloak, and it has a mind of its own," Stephen said simply, waving at the cloak like he was telling it to stand down. The fabric reluctantly let go of Peter's wrist, whipping around in an almost huffy manner.
Like it's annoyed, she thought, trying to wrap her brain around that idea.
"I already told you ten years ago, there's nothing more I can do," Strange said slowly to Peter, like he was talking to a toddler. "I did what I could at the time but the rest is up to her."
"But she still doesn't remember," Peter said, clearly distressed. "Surely there's something else we can do?"
"Quit talking like I'm not here!" Heather finally snapped. "What am I supposed to be remembering?" She pointed at Peter as he started to open his mouth, "Not you. I'm still pissed with you, and I'm sick and tired of your cryptic non-answers."
Strange smirked at Peter's annoyed expression. "I'll answer as many of your questions as I can," the doctor said to Heather. "But why don't we do it away from the artifacts. The last time we had a case break, I had to spend a week trying to track down a very illusive beetle."
Dr Strange - Heather found out that he was in fact a real doctor, a former surgeon, it wasn't just a title - had a very nice living room. It was decorated in a mix of Asian decor and Victorian era furniture, which was beautiful and tasteful, and made Heather a little terrified to touch anything. She was used to furniture that was secondhand broken in, or maybe had been bought from Ikea if they were going to splurge. The subtle luxury of it made her nervous.
Strange brought out a set of fine China that she was pretty sure cost more than a year's rent in their apartment, and poured tea from the pot into three cups for them. Heather took hers mostly to be polite. The tea's spices made her nose tickle, and she tried not to grimace.
How do you politely tell someone you'd rather have a latte than whatever this hot leaf juice is? Strange took a seat in a plush wingback chair while Peter and Heather took seats on opposite sides of an antique couch.
"You seriously live here?" Heather couldn't help but ask.
"I do, some of the time," Strange said, sipping his tea. "I also have an apartment in 's been some developments that have required more of my attention than normal, so I've been here more and more lately. The neighborhood is quiet, at least." He smiled at her, raising an eyebrow. "You had some questions, right?"
Heather put her untouched tea gently back on the coffee table, the porcelain cup clinking. "I don't really know where to start," she admitted. "My dad, Ben Reilly, did you know him?"
"So you remember that much?" Strange replied.
She shook her head. "I didn't remember. I took a DNA test. Tony and Bruce explained the results to me."
"Ah, Banner and Stark," Strange smirked. "Good to know those two are still pretending to be doctors."
"I mean, there's at least eight PHDs between the two of them. That still counts for something," Peter protested.
"Says the adjunct professor," Strange needled, his smile widening as Peter spluttered.
"You didn't answer my question," Heather interrupted, trying very hard not to sound as frustrated as she was.
"I only met your dad once, very briefly. He was a good man," Stephen said in a more gentle tone.
She felt her heart stop. "Was?"
Peter rubbed his eyes, looking more exhausted than ever.
"Ben died ten years ago. I'm so sorry," Stephen's voice was softer than ever, but his words were firm.
Heather slumped into the couch, staring at the untouched tea. "He's… he's really gone?"
"Kid, I'm so sorry," Peter said, reaching for her.
She jerked back from him like he'd burned her. "Don't touch me," she hissed. "You knew and you didn't tell me. You lied to me, again. Is that all you're able to do, Peter? Are you even capable of telling me the truth?"
Peter seemed at a loss for words. "I thought, maybe, Strange could help you remember what happened, and then… then you - and I wouldn't have to -"
"I already explained to you that there's nothing more I can do. You were just too much of a coward to be honest with her," Stephen snapped, setting his cup down with a loud clatter. "I told you this would bite you in the ass, but did you listen? No, you just kept spinning the lie out for as long as you could."
"You try looking a kid in the eyes and admitting that you're not their dad, see how well you handle it," Peter shot back, his hands clenched into fists that dug into his thighs.
"What happened to my Dad?" Heather finally cut in, even as tears stung her eyes. She swiped them away impatiently. "Why don't I remember what happened?"
Stephen and Peter glared at each other for another long heartbeat before Peter sighed and dropped the doctor's gaze.
"You're dad and I… we couldn't tell which of us was the real Peter. We had the same memories, same powers, and it was… it was disturbing. At first, we tried to figure out who was the clone, but we just kept hitting dead end after dead end. It felt like we were never going to find an answer. Eventually, it didn't even matter to Ben who was the real one, but I couldn't let it go. MJ and I were engaged, but how could I marry her knowing that I might not be the man she thought I was?" Peter dropped his head, threading his fingers through his hair roughly before locking them behind his neck.
"Ben wanted to give MJ the world - marriage, kids, anything she wanted. I think in some ways he loved your mother even more than I did," Peter's voice had dropped to a whisper.
Heather eyed him, her brain kicking into overdrive. "You were so focused on finding answers that you prioritized it over Mom," she said slowly.
Peter nodded miserably. "I couldn't let it go. Ben finally told me that if I wouldn't take care of MJ and give her what she deserved, he would. It... it felt like a light bulb went off. Of course he was the real deal. If he was willing to put MJ before anything else, then I had to be the clone. It made sense. So I left, and Ben married your mother."
"Did Mom know?" Seeing his face crumple made Heather frown. "You didn't tell her. You're unbelievable, you know that?" She scrubbed her face, feeling all of the exhaustion from the previous night creeping up on her. She reached down and picked up her tea, taking a quick sip if only to have something for her hands to do. She was surprised at how nice it tasted, like cinnamon and cardamom, and how it warmed up the cold knot that had formed in her stomach just a little. She took another, slower sip before choosing her words carefully.
"So what happened? What went wrong?"
"I took up being Spiderman almost full time," Peter explained, still hunched forward. "Ben had a little apartment near The Bugle, and the super of course couldn't tell the difference between us. When I wasn't doing the usual stuff - stopping bank robberies and muggers - I was spending the rest of my time trying to find answers. Ben and I kept in touch, at least to begin with. Ben had started working towards finishing his degree, and he was working as a TA until the university hired him as an adjunct professor. He and MJ seemed really happy, from what he told me. They were talking about having a baby," Peter glanced at her then, just for a moment. "Ben wanted to be a father more than anything."
Heather felt the porcelain cup in her hands make an ominous cracking sound and she quickly set it back on it's saucer, worried that if she wasn't careful she'd end up owing Dr Strange a new tea cup.
"I know he was worried," Peter added. "That his DNA wouldn't mesh with MJ's. They'd been having trouble getting pregnant, and he thought it was his fault. It was one of the reasons I worried about starting a family too. But then, it happened. MJ was pregnant and it was going well, she was doing fine, the baby was fine… he called me from the hospital the day you were born. I've never heard him so happy."
Heather was openly crying now, not even bothering to wipe away the fat tears that rolled down her cheeks. "What happened?" she finally asked, her voice hoarse and watery.
"Being Spiderman is a dangerous job," Peter looked down at his hands speculatively. "I've made friends, but I've made even more enemies. The Sinister Six knew that Peter Parker took the photos of Spiderman for the paper. I never changed my address on file at The Bugle, so it was still listed as Ben and MJ's apartment. One night they came. They broke in and threatened Ben to tell them how to find Spiderman. He swore up and down he didn't know; that he had no idea who it was under the mask. He protected me," he whispered, the misery on his face clear.
"They took you," Peter finally said after a long pause, "as leverage. They told Ben that if I didn't show up to save you, you'd be dead by morning. Ben called me, completely frantic, and begged me to help. I wanted to help - of course I wanted to help. But I'd been tracking down a lead in California, and there was no way I could get there by the deadline, but I was going to try." He sighed, "He told me he couldn't wait."
"By the time I found you both, Ben was almost gone. I got you here as fast as I could. I…" He shook his head, unable to finish.
Heather turned to Stephen as the doctor continued when Peter couldn't. "Your dad was in rough shape. The Sinister Six had beaten him badly, but then there was a fire. He inhaled a lot of smoke, severe burns all across his body, and he'd been pinned under rubble when Peter found him. Even with his healing factor working overtime, there was nothing I could do for him, it was too much at once. You were," the man paused here, considering his words. "Inconsolable. It was worse when Peter took off his mask. Hard enough to explain to a six year old that her daddy isn't going to wake up, but then this idiot comes in the room not wearing a mask, and suddenly she's screaming because there's a man who looks like her father but isn't." He pinched the bridge of his nose, the memory apparently still fresh in his mind even after all these years.
"I don't," Heather pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, a dull ache gathering there. "I don't remember that. Why can't I remember that? It's like it's right there but I can't…" Like sand slipping through my fingers, like smoke. There but not there.
"In his continued stupidity," Stephen spat, glaring at Peter who had the decency to look remorseful. "Parker made it worse. I told him that I was going to grab something to help you calm down. I told him to just hold you, just try and comfort you, and for God's sake not to touch anything." Stephen made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, "Did he listen? No. I come back in the room - not even ten minutes later - to find him using an artifact as a toy, waving it in your face. All the while completely missing the fact that you'd not only stopped crying but had gone comatose."
"I didn't - I was just trying to get her to stop crying," Peter protested.
"Mission failed," Stephen stated flatly.
"What was the artifact? What did it do to me?" Heather got to her feet, pacing the living room as she pulled her fingers through her hair nervously, pushing her tired brain to just remember something, anything.
"It's an ancient safeguard, called Rentenitia Absconditus. It was created to keep information from falling into the wrong hands. When someone uses it, it makes them forget information - or rather, they're unable to recall it. The knowledge is still there, but it becomes buried under so much magic that no one can touch it. The only one who can access the knowledge is the one who used the artifact in the first place. Used carefully, it can save many lives and protect information. If it's used in excess, it can cause someone to forget themselves entirely. Their mind becomes a blank slate," Stephen explained calmly, even as he glared openly at Peter.
"You almost wiped my mind?!" Heather shrieked. "What is wrong with you?"
"I didn't know!" Peter defended weakly.
"Which is exactly why I warned you not to touch anything," Strange repeated, his exasperation clear. "I was able to undo most of the spell's magic, but I couldn't get to all of it. There's a reason it's such an effective tool."
"How much did I lose?" Heather demanded, crossing her arms protectively to brace herself.
"As far as I could tell, two days," Stephen said, looking apologetic as she collapsed back onto the couch. "I couldn't cut through any more layers of magic without risking you harm. If I pushed any harder, you might have suffered a kind of magical stroke. The only way to get the memories to come to the surface, and make the magic release it's death grip on your mind, is to ease it out over time. I explained to Parker that it was imperative that he do everything he could to jog your memory, while the spell was still fresh. Clearly my instructions were ignored."
Heather dropped her head in her hands, trying to process. "Two days? I lost two days of my life. I lost…" she paused, a horrible feeling filling her. "You said you found me with Dad. I must have been with him as he lost consciousness." Tears filled her eyes once more, "I'll never know what the last words he spoke to me were. Maybe he told me he loved me. Maybe he told me who he really was." She shook her head. "I'll never know."
Heather had to admit that for once, Peter had kept his word. After they left the Sanctum, Peter took Heather to see her father.
The cemetery was quiet, even in the middle of the city, the sun shining down almost mockingly. She had a very vague memory of coming to this cemetery as a little kid, before Harry had been born. Peter - Ben, she corrected herself, Ben - wanted to show her where her grandparents and great-uncle were buried. Even after all this time, she remembered the way to their graves. Peter followed along behind her quietly, and she was grateful he didn't try to talk to her. She didn't think there was anything else to be said.
Under the shade of a large oak tree, there were three headstones grouped together. Richard Parker, Mary Parker, Benjamin Parker… and one space over from her great-uncle, was a slightly newer headstone than the others. Heather's breath caught in her throat, her knees buckling until she was suddenly falling to the warm grass, her vision swimming.
Ben Reilly: Beloved Father, Devoted Husband, a True Hero.
"It was the least I could do for Ben," Peter said quietly. "We may not have seen eye to eye to begin with, but over time we… understood each other, in ways no one else could."
Heather ran her finger over the carved words, beloved father, and felt something tiny and fragile shatter in her heart. "...go," she whispered.
The man hesitated. "Heather, I can't leave you -"
"Go!" She shouted, glaring at him through red rimmed eyes. She took in a breath, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle as the weight of the world seemed to settle on her shoulders. "Just leave me alone, Peter."
AN: Well, I think I need a hug after that, anyone else? This chapter was... difficult to get through, and I'm not entirely happy with it but I think it's the best I could do. I've worried that Peter has ended up looking like the bad guy in this fic and that's not entirely my intention.
Like yeah, he's messed up and he's done stupid things, but I want him to eventually grow and learn from those mistakes. To me, Spiderman as a character is someone who has never been allowed to grow up. In a way, that's the nature of comics. Every few years, there's a reboot and suddenly timelines are reset or soft-reset, because the comics industry wants their characters to continue to sell books, even when it no longer logically makes sense for a character to be acting a certain way.
Spiderman has been stuck as a teen/almost adult for a very long time, the writers unable or unwilling to let the character age or grow or change hardly at all. The comic story "Spiderman: One More Day" is a perfect example. "Spiderman can't be married or have kids, he'll be old then and not relatable", which you know is bullshit because adding new permanent fixtures into a character's life and background makes them more interesting not less. Look at Batman - a noir style character from the 40s who went from punching Nazis to having an ever increasing amount of supporting cast, most of whom claim him as a father figure.
I think the industry is softening to the idea that Spiderman can be more than a teenager or college student - not that I think for a second he's ever going to get a reboot that will actually last more than a few years before the character gets reset again - but this is fanfic. I want more from Spiderman, and I hope if you've stuck around this long you do to. Anyway, I hope everyone has a great weekend. Reviews are always appreciated ^_^