Pepper: [Are you still in the workshop? Takeout just arrived for you.]
11:15 PM
Pepper: [I didn't see you eat. Just come up for 10 mins.]
11:16 PM
Tony gives a shake of his head and places his phone face-down before pushing it out of his arm's reach. He moves around to the opposite side of the holotable and scans over the projected screens, trying to shift his attention away from the fact that he has about half an hour before Pepper's heels click down the stairs and she looks at him with that expression that even his best smile's never been able to chase away. It's become something of a dance these past few nights; she'd urge him to bed, he'd gesture to the projections, and she wouldn't stop looking at him like that until he promises only five more minutes that inevitably turn into three more hours after she leaves.
But Pepper knows that Peter's been gone for almost a week now, and she also knows Tony's not any fucking closer to changing that.
There have been six homicides in Queens the past couple of days that he can attribute to Castle, but the display of it makes it look like the Punisher had blindfolded himself and proceeded to toss darts at a map. Courtesy of their phone call, Tony bets, because any semblance of a pattern had disappeared once he found the flip phone with a bullet hole on that warehouse floor. No doubt Castle's been busy, but FRIDAY comes up with nothing every time Tony asks her for updates on the borough's security cameras. The only relief that comes from that is the knowledge that no way in hell would Castle be able to string Peter along with him. Wherever Castle stashed him, at least the kid's alone.
God, that's not supposed to be a good thing.
Tony leans forward onto the table and runs his hand down his face. You are never gonna find that kid again. It hadn't been a threat—he'd said it like a fucking promise. Yet the sergeant seemed confident that Castle wouldn't kill a kid and Tony triple-checked his sources to confirm that the youngest person Castle's ever decided to put a bullet between the eyes of was nineteen. It's not a comfortable number, but it's a big leap from fifteen. And right now, it's all he has. But Tony's not the first person who's tried to figure out what the hell is going on in Frank Castle's head, and there's no point in doing work that's already been done for him.
The "Sympathetic Storming" bit Castle's legal team tried to sell at his trial reeks of bullshit before Tony even spent five minutes looking into it. He almost wants to give them credit for not going the PTSD route, but he quickly determines that there's no insight to be found there. The Homeland files are more promising, evidently due to one current CIA Agent Midani, but she must not be a fan of unknown numbers if how quickly he was sent to voicemail is anything to go by. So he'd played by the rules and sent her an email only to get an automatic response saying that she'd get back to him in four to five business days. Goddamn CIA.
He'd thought about tugging that thread more before something caught his eye upon revisiting some Bulletin articles. A paralegal on Castle's defense team getting kidnapped by the Punisher and released without a scratch twice after the trial was over and done with rings as more than a little suspicious. Karen Page. Former New York Bulletin reporter, currently the Page in Nelson, Murdock and Page. Not a half-bad journalist either, and Tony's hoping that her article on heroes means he has at least one foot in the door in regards to her cooperation. Dealing with reporters isn't anything new to him, and if she likes heroes as much as she says she does, getting her assistance in tracking Castle down in order to save a kid should be manageable.
Then again, for someone who's been in so much contact with the man, there's an odd lack of articles about him under her name. Tony doesn't peg her as a secret Punisher fanatic, but he has a feeling the records and articles left a few vital details out. Either way, a reporter's a reporter, and he has no doubt that an invite to chat with him would be accepted the moment she spots it in her inbox.
"FRIDAY, compose a message to Karen Page. High priority, personal email." Tony crosses his arms as a new screen opens in front of him and purses his lips. "You know, on second thought-" He swipes a hand through the screen and dismisses it. He doesn't have time for her to take the drive upstate and a conflicting schedule isn't something he's willing to risk. Stopping by her apartment tomorrow morning would catch her off guard, but it'd be private and patience isn't something he can afford.
Tony paces around the holotable, looking over the screens and waiting for something to jump out. It's all a waiting game now—waiting for tomorrow morning while trying to rid his mind of the image of Castle cornering Peter against the wall, gun to the kid's head as streams of tears streak through the blood splattered on his cheeks. It'd been almost four days since then. Tony had stopped his protests against building the Jericho missile in the cave after one.
Castle was also in Afghanistan around that time, occupied with getting those same kinds of terrorists to spill their own guts.
Tony rubs at the back of his neck as he debates how amenable Karen Page would be if he were to pay her a visit now. Considering the surprising amount of attempts on her life paired with the fact that he'd be knocking on her door near midnight, probably not very. Shit, he hopes Peter's age means something. The kid better not have lied about it, or tried to tough out whatever Castle-
A buzzing from the opposite end of the table freezes him in place.
Tony rushes around to his phone, flipping it over with shaking fingers. When the words Unknown Number shine back at him, his heart drops.
"Trace it. FRIDAY, trace it now," he manages to get out. Something between dread and fury rolls in his chest as he raises the phone to his ear. Fuck. When he swipes to answer, he finds himself holding his breath.
Castle never talks first. Paranoia that comes with the territory, Tony bets, but Castle dialed him. So he bides his time and hates how the silence makes his pulse roar in his ears. He glances over at the map that's too slowly narrowing in on the location and silently begs that Castle stays on the line.
"Tony Stark?"
The hell?
"Is this Tony-"
"Who-" Tony blinks, steels himself, and snaps his thoughts back in focus. "How did you get this number?"
"We have a mutual friend at the Fifteenth Precinct."
Fifteenth Precinct? He's never even been to- Tony stops in his tracks, only then realizing he's been pacing. Mahoney. Shit. He eyes the map, tapping his finger against the table as it continues to narrow. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Mr. Stark, my name is Matthew Murdock of Nelson, Murdock and Page. As I understand it, we've recently acquired a client you've been looking for."
Tony's vision tunnels. His hand trembles as he swipes at the holographic screen and the whirring of his suit doesn't come quickly enough. He pulls the phone away from his face to suck in a breath before pressing it back against his ear. "A client?"
"Peter Parker," Murdock clarifies. Then, after a beat, "Spider-Man."
It's a trap. It's a fucking trap. Tony doesn't know if Castle's feeding him words with a gun to his head or if the lawyer sided with him by choice, but no way in hell would Castle make it this easy. An apartment in Hell's Kitchen glows red on the screen in front of him the same moment his faceplate falls over his eyes. Trap or not, it's the only lead he's got. Another swipe at the projection is all it takes to transfer the call to his HUD and his phone slips out of his hand with a thud when he goes to set it down. Tony mutes himself in the fifteen seconds it takes him to fire up his repulsors and make the Avenger's Compound into a speck below him.
'Is he with you?' burns on his tongue, but the urge to ask is outweighed by the dread that a gunshot will be his answer. "What's Spider-Man need a lawyer for?" he tries instead.
"I think you know," Murdock says slowly, an undertone to his voice that he wouldn't have if his words were anything but his own. The same kind of undertone that means I know, too. As for what that means for the kid, Tony's less sure. Aiding and abetting is a one-way ticket to getting disbarred, and Tony has yet to find a lawyer who's stupid enough to admit it to the guy with the pull to make it happen. The hell is Castle playing at?
"It's part of the reason I'd like to meet with you at our firm tomorrow morning," Murdock continues, and for a moment Tony's frozen in the air. "But right now, I want you to know that Peter Parker is safe with me."
Those are the exact words Tony wants to hear and the exact words Tony trusts the least. It's a bold game Murdock's playing if he's lying, and he should be smart enough to know it. "Yeah? How about you put him on and let him tell me himself?"
His stomach churns at Murdock's response. "He can tell you in person at our firm tomorrow morning."
"All right. Sure." Tony allocates more power to his thrusters until the ground beneath him becomes a blur. "I'll stop by. Pretty sure all parties want to avoid the paparazzi on this one, so you got any other clients there I should worry about?"
Tony's real question isn't lost on him and there's no humor in Murdock's chuckle. "Frank Castle isn't my client. I don't know where he is or where he will be. But he's not the man you should be worried about. Frank Castle-"
"Frank Castle killed nearly thirty people in the past week. You ask your client about that?" Dammit. Tony presses his mouth in a tight line and tries to come up with something that would return his cards back to his chest, but Murdock doesn't give him the chance.
"Mr. Stark, I will readily clear up any misconstructions you have tomorrow morning. But Frank Castle does not, and never has posed any danger to Peter."
Tony has to withhold a scoff as the distant city lights rapidly grow nearer. For a guy who never posed any danger to the kid, he held the gun to his head for an awfully long time. Then again, that's not something Murdock would know about unless Castle or Peter told him. Fuck, Castle could have threatened the kid to keep him from speaking out against him. Or there's the more likely possibility that Murdock's well-aware and Tony's flying into an ambush, and frankly, he has yet to decide which one is more likely to end with Peter breathing.
If he still is.
Tony squeezes his eyes shut and shoves the thought away. "Huh, look at that. Turns out my tomorrow morning's full. Here's my counter-proposal." He holds out his hands to slow his descent as FRIDAY highlights the rooftop of the apartment in question. A corner penthouse. Fits with the occupation, though Tony's more concerned with what all Castle pried out of the kid that Murdock's using to keep him confined to a penthouse with a roof-access door. "I'll give you ten seconds to open the roof-access door before I blow it off its hinges."
The call ends with a click and gravel grinding beneath his boots. Tony shifts his stance and opens his palm to the door, the whine of the repulsors successfully drowning out the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears.
The doorknob twists and Tony anticipates the pattering of bullets against his chest.
Nothing happens. Murdock is unarmed, save for the phone clutched in his hand. His white button-up doesn't have any bloodstains, though that'd be a level of obvious straight out of a low-budget horror movie. Sunglasses at night is a choice, but Tony's not about to—ah, shit. Well, he hopes the repulsor is loud enough to give Murdock a hint at where it's being pointed.
Murdock shifts his jaw as he tilts his head to the side. "Stark."
The lawyer grabs the edge of the door and moves to step outside, but he goes stiff when Tony places a gauntlet-fitted hand against the door to stop it in place. "Kinda chilly for a rooftop chat, don't you think?"
He watches the decision flit across Murdock's face, and after a brief pause, the man turns out to be wise enough to step aside. Tony passes through the door and closes it behind him.
"Murdock, is it?" Tony asks, though the question isn't directed at the lawyer. "I gotta say, I didn't see you coming back for round two after Castle's trigger-happy murder speech, but I admire the commitment."
"There's no criminal record for Matthew Murdock, boss," FRIDAY reports to him. "According to my records, he was blinded in a car accident at age nine and graduated summa cum laude from Columbia Law."
A clean record bodes better for Peter, but Tony's met enough crazies to know not to put any stock in it. He turns to descend the stairs and the only response Murdock gives comes in the form of wetting his lips after a measured exhale.
The lights aren't on, but the glow from the billboard across the street is enough to make up for it. It has to violate a number of building regulations, not that Murdock would take issue with it. And at the moment, Tony doesn't either. It lets him make out the folded blanket and pillow tucked next to the armrest of the couch. Peter or not, Murdock's had someone spend the night. It's a theory also supported by the two sets of silverware and plates stacked on the counter that Tony takes note of once he reaches the bottom of the steps, along with the-
Tony's heart jumps.
In the center of the living room, sitting conspicuously on the coffee table, is a Lego X-Wing.
"FRIDAY, where is he?" The question comes out between shaky breaths.
"Stark, listen to me." Footsteps approach from behind him and he can see a hand trailing against the wall in his periphery. "Peter's not-"
"I'm detecting heat signatures from the bedroom. Vital signs indicate fourteen to seventeen years old."
Vital signs. Relief pounds in Tony's head. He takes a single step toward the bedroom door before freezing in his tracks. "Any sign of Castle?"
Murdock places himself in front of the bedroom door before FRIDAY can respond. "Stark, wait. He's not ready to-"
"Negative, boss."
Murdock doesn't flinch when the armor opens and he doesn't move back when Tony steps out. He must've grabbed his cane at some point, because he's holding it perpendicular to the floor with a white-knuckled grip. His expression is stony when he opens his mouth to speak, but bold of him to think that Tony's willing to waste a single extra second.
"FRIDAY, Sentry Mode. Don't let him try anything." Tony's prepared to inform the lawyer exactly where the suit's palm is aiming once the faceplate clinks shut behind him, but judging by the look that flashes across his repulsor-lit face, Murdock has no trouble grasping where he stands. A muscle pops in Murdock's jaw before he lets out a breath through his nose and takes a slow step away from the door.
Tony reaches out to clasp the handle. The metal's warmer than it should be—or maybe it's him. Shit, he should've brought a medkit. The kid could be bruised and battered, bleeding out on the ground, and all Tony's got is a suit of armor that can't fix what matters. He could fly him back to the compound with his doctors on-call, but it'd be a cold and bumpy ride that might not make up for the prospect of waiting for Happy to make the drive. Yet after Afghanistan, when Tony was in Peter's shoes, he'd have taken a familiar face over a doctor any day. And after losing May the way he did- fuck. Tony braces himself and pulls the door open.
His breath catches in his throat.
Peter's on his feet.
It's him. His brown hair has more curls than Tony remembers and it's pressed flat against the side of his head, but it's his. His weight is distributed throughout both of his feet where he stands close to the side of the bed. He's rubbing at his eyes, though Tony can make out the bruiseless cheeks and the unbloodied nose. When the kid's hands drop and his eyes land on Tony, despite the little light the room has to offer, they're the same brown he's used to.
He doesn't look real. The kid looks like something BARF would conjure up for him, something meant to distract him from reality before it flickered under his touch.
"Mr. Star-?"
Tony's legs carry him forward. He reaches out for the kid's upper arm, and it connects, the fabric of his shirt soft and solid in his fist. Peter's there, and the second Tony tugs him closer, the kid's whole body goes tense. His mind blanks with panic, scrambling for what the hell Castle did to him, but then the kid's holding him back.
Peter's chin fits into the crook of Tony's neck and his hands clasp firm around his torso. His hair feels damp where it brushes against the side of Tony's cheek and the rage flares up within him as the cave flashes in his head before he catches the faint scent of shampoo. Thank God. Tony hones in on the kid's steady heartbeat drumming under his fingers. "You're all right," he tells the kid, and if he isn't, Tony'll be damned if he doesn't make it true.
Peter's in his arms, in his arms, so he doesn't know why Castle's words are still prickling the back of his mind. You are never gonna find that kid again. Goddamn him. With a long breath, Tony lets his eyes fall closed.
"Mr. Stark, you- I don't-" Peter breaks off, hands slackening. "Do you hear that?"
Tony's heart does a flip as his mind darts to the beeping of a bomb or the cocking of a gun that only enhanced senses would be able to pick out, yet all that meets his ears beyond the ambiance of the city is the whine from his repulsors in the neighboring room. Right.
C'mon, Stark, get your shit together. Maybe Murdock isn't working with Castle. The spiel about Castle 'not posing a danger' to anybody is something to be examined, but Peter's uninjured, he has a Lego X-Wing in the living room, and as far as Tony can tell, his mission just ended ahead of schedule. It's all undeniably good news on the surface, yet Peter's watched his aunt die along with at least eighteen people that Castle murdered in front of him and he's standing in front of Tony with dry eyes and a curious expression. There's something he's missing, and if Murdock wants to explain, Tony has no interest in discouraging him.
"That, uh, lawyer of yours—he helping you out?"
Peter's brow scrunches at that, and he's off to the living room before Tony can react. He's quick to trail after the kid, who lets out a small gasp when he spots the suit training a repulsor on Murdock's face. "Woah, Mr. Stark, he's not- Yeah, he's helping me out, you don't have to-"
To the man's credit, Peter looks considerably more worried about it than he does. The only thing Tony can read on him is his slight frown that indicates he's somewhere between thoughtful and confused. His head swivels until he's facing Tony and he pointedly raises his eyebrows, which, fair.
"My bad. FRIDAY, stand down." Tony circles around the couch as the suit's arm drops, and it goes from hovering to both feet on the floor after a metallic hiss. "Can't say I would've believed you if you'd said it was past his bedtime, but I'd have appreciated the specificity. Speaking of which, if you're in the mood to 'clear up any misconstructions,'" Tony grabs the X-Wing off the table and uses it to gesture between them, "start with why you only called me now."
Peter opens his mouth and takes a breath, but he clamps it shut the second Murdock clears his throat. Though the question had been directed at the lawyer, something about how immediately he got the kid to go silent rubs him the wrong way.
"Frank Castle contacted me after he confronted Mac Gargan in the parking garage, which I understand you're aware of." Murdock props his cane against the wall and strides to the center of the living room, skimming his hand over the back of an armchair before giving an inviting wave to the furniture. "Please."
The formality's almost funny, but Peter doesn't hesitate to plant himself in the center of the couch, so Tony returns the X-Wing to its spot on the table and takes a seat in the second armchair. Murdock pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before following suit.
"At the time, we were under the impression that your interest in Peter stemmed from the recent passing of the Sokovia Accords. We believed that because he's too young to sign-"
"What, that I'd throw him in the Raft?" Jesus Christ. Why the fuck- wait. Tony narrows his eyes as the pieces start clicking into place. "Who's 'we?' Is that what Castle told you?"
It's smart, Tony will give him that. Call up his lawyer, the one guy who wouldn't call the cops on him and would be legally obligated to keep Peter's identity under wraps, then spin a story convincing enough to get Peter holed away somewhere that Tony wouldn't think to look. It adds up, but he'd forgotten how allergic lawyers were to yes-or-no answers. "It's the conclusion Frank came to, and I had no reason to challenge it," Murdock replies evenly.
"He did." Tony nods in Peter's direction—a gesture Murdock can't see. "Peter did," he amends.
The kid's gaze drops to his lap. "I didn't th-" Peter cuts himself off with a swallow. "Didn't know you were looking."
Tony grits his teeth. Of course Castle wouldn't tell him; it's better to keep the kid in the dark than give him more motivation to fight back, then feed Murdock just the right bullshit to keep up the charade. It's good for the short term, but Castle had to have known Peter and Murdock would put their heads together eventually. What matters is that, in the end, Tony made his way here before Castle did.
"Okay, so for clarity's sake," Tony angles himself toward Murdock and leans forward, clasping his hands in his lap, "Castle passed off Spider-Man to you in order to throw me off his scent. You figure out I'm not trying to throw a kid in the Raft, ergo…" He waves a hand to encapsulate this. "And Mac Gargan is, what, the latest addition to the Punisher's naughty list?"
"Mac Gargan wants Peter dead," Murdock states, an edge to his voice that Tony's not sure what to make of beyond the fact that it isn't a good edge. But it's Peter's reaction that catches his attention. The kid shifts between the cushions and dips his head, his leg starting to bounce against the floor.
Murdock clears his throat and pushes himself out of his chair to begin pacing a small circle, his white shirt turning a soft red in the billboard's glow. "More importantly, Gargan knows his identity. Now, Article Five, Subsection B of the Sokovia Accords states that the use and distribution of Chitauri weaponry is strictly regulated, as possession of them would, in the eyes of the UN, qualify someone as an enhanced individual. Due to the precedent set by the containment of individuals such as Sam Wilson and Scott Lang in the Raft, whose enhancements are entirely dependent on their technology, I believe there is a case to be made regarding Gargan's imprisonment on the Raft."
Lawyers. "You did your homework," Tony comments.
Not bad, either. Pretty air-tight, in fact, except for the one thing Murdock couldn't have accounted for. If Gargan gets sent to the Raft, it's only a matter of time before he goes to Ross and tries to use Spider-Man's identity as a bargaining chip. Castle and Gargan knowing Spider-Man's identity is bad enough, but he doesn't want to think about what their esteemed Secretary of State would do with it considering that he plays with genetics as a hobby. If Castle got to Gargan first, that's one less problem to worry about.
"And Phineas Mason is the witness we need," Peter adds, earning a tiny nod from Murdock that makes Tony wonder exactly how rehearsed this is. "He was the- the weapons and tech guy for Toomes. The vulture guy. He's supposed to be somewhere in Bushwick, which… is enough for you to be able to find him, right?"
"Yeah, should be." Finding him before giving Castle his shot is a different matter entirely. But the fact that the kid wants Gargan imprisoned at all instead of having Castle finish the job… Tony's surprised, though maybe he shouldn't be. Gargan got his aunt killed in a building collapse and Peter would rather have him pay behind bars instead of in the ground. The feasibility of it is less than slim, but the fact that he wants it brings Tony a relief that he hadn't known he'd been looking for.
Tony places his elbow on the armrest and props up his chin in his hand. Murdock's story adds up and Peter's not objecting to it, but there's still a piece that doesn't slot in place. Mahoney said it himself; it's not like Castle to be sloppy. For the lynchpin in his plan to be the assumption that Murdock and Peter would never get around to talking about Tony feels immeasurably off. Castle had an enemy in his hold, the kind of enemy who had the will and way to put a stop to him, and Tony's supposed to believe that Castle just let that enemy go. Spider-Man's a ticking time bomb to a man like Castle, and Tony knows the Punisher doesn't walk away from a threat without neutralizing it.
Whatever role Castle planned for Peter to play, he's not done playing it.
Tony swallows. "Help me out here. After Castle kidnapped Peter-"
Murdock doesn't let him finish. "Frank didn't kidnap Peter."
Uh-huh. Well, Tony knows better than to provoke an argument with an attorney when he's got places to be, especially when said argument constitutes how Castle drugged and held a gun to the head of the kid who definitely doesn't need a review. If Castle kept that bit from Murdock, it's not Tony's job to fill him in. Besides, said kid is currently hunched forward with his mouth pressed in a tight line, eyes fixed on the floor like he's trying to burn a hole in it to disappear into the apartment below.
Tony offers Murdock a tight-lipped smile and a non-committal hum before pushing himself to his feet. Peter takes it as a cue and copies the movement a second after. "Misconstructions cleared," he announces with a clap of his hands, then turns to his suit waiting near the edge of the room. "FRIDAY, get Happy over here. C'mon, kid." With that, Tony jerks his head to the door and starts to make his way toward it.
Then the footfalls behind him halt.
Tony turns back to find Peter frozen midstep, mouth parted and back ramrod-straight. The kid casts a glance behind him at Murdock before facing back to Tony, his jaw locking shut as his eyes flicker.
The corner of Murdock's mouth twitches upward in a way that makes Tony's blood boil.
"I, um—" Peter crosses an arm over his stomach to grip at his elbow "—I don't…"
The lawyer cocks his head to the side as Peter's voice dies in the back of his throat. "Mr. Stark," he starts smoothly, then raises his chin and intones, "what is it that you want with my client?"
A scoff escapes past Tony's lips and the retort is spilling out before he can reconsider. "Well I'd have brought the adoption forms if you'd asked, but they're a real pain to keep a hold of at Mach two."
Shit, he didn't want it to go like this. The surprise on Murdock's face isn't worth the matching expression on Peter's that twists the knife in his chest. He can't even fault the kid for it—Pepper hadn't seen it coming either. But she'd known just as well as he had that the alternative is sending a grief-stricken Spider-Man into a system that might not notice if he doesn't come home one night. When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.
Tony lets out a sigh and runs a hand down the lower half of his face, forcing his attention away from Murdock and to the kid who actually warrants it. "I know it's not-" Tony cuts himself off to soften his tone and run his words over in his head as he meets Peter's eyes. "Pepper and I talked it over. Happy packed up most of your room a few days ago. When you're ready to go through the rest of your apartment…" Tony trails off at Peter's thick swallow.
Sorting through his parent's things after the car crash that wasn't a car crash had been a different kind of rough. It was the little things; the vacant piano bench, the unfinished blueprints at his father's desk. God knows if it'd be the dirty dishes in the sink or the half-empty laundry basket that would cut the kid back open.
"I…" Peter gives a wet sniff and takes a breath that makes his chest shudder. "I can stay with you?"
Peter's voice is barely above a whisper, full of trepidation as if he needs to hear Tony say it again. So Tony searches his face and asks, "Do you want to?"
Peter's small nods grow more pronounced before stopping all at once, sending Tony's heart stuttering with it. The kid draws in a quick breath, then opts instead to bite back his lip when he turns back to Murdock like he's waiting for fucking permission.
"Peter." Murdock's expression gives nothing away. "I need a word with Mr. Stark."
The kid looks uncharacteristically relieved at the dismissal as his gaze darts between them. It's not long before he's backing up to the door. "Should I, uh, wait out in the hallway?"
Murdock gives a single nod without bothering to face him.
It's only when the front door clicks shut that Murdock moves. Tony follows him with his eyes as he strolls around furniture, tracing a hand along the back of the couch until he comes to a stop a good six feet away. Instead of starting on whatever words that are so vital that he needs privacy for them, Murdock spends a long moment doing what Tony would label spacing off if he didn't know better. Tony doesn't know if he hopes or dreads that it's about Castle, but either way, he finds himself disappointed.
"I know about the airport," he says quietly, just before Tony's patience runs out. Murdock takes a slow step forward. "I know about the ferry, and I know about Peter's invitation to join the Avengers. What I want to know is that if he'd accepted—" Murdock takes another step "—at which point would you have told his aunt?"
Tony lowers his chin and raises his brow. He's proud of himself for opting for civility when he says "Excuse me?" instead of what the fuck?
"Peter informed me that you threatened to tell his aunt about Spider-Man if he didn't assist you in Germany. I think we both know that she wouldn't have allowed that." Murdock's voice drops to a whisper. "But she's out of the picture now, isn't she?"
For a moment, the red in Murdock's glasses is all he can see. "If you're suggesting that I wanted this-"
"No," Murdock interrupts. "But you're an opportunist. You wanted a fifteen-year-old to fight for you, and now there's nothing-"
Tony doesn't bother unclenching his fists as he strides into Murdock's space. "You don't know shit about what I want," he hisses. "Do you think I brought along the most non-lethal vigilante because I wanted a fight? Huh? If I had known that-" Tony cuts himself off. What happened in Berlin isn't any of Murdock's fucking business. "If I could go back and save May Parker, I would. But his ticket's punched for the foster system, so all I can do now is step up."
"Step up?" Murdock echoes, his infuriatingly level tone grating in Tony's ears. "Like how you stepped up after you dragged him into your war, or is it going to be different this time?" His lip curls as a note of derision sneaks into his voice, but it's gratifying to see the mask slip.
"I stepped up," Tony grits out. "He tell you where he got his suit? Or who set up the sting on the boat? What's different is that his aunt's dead and I'm not gonna let his life fall apart because of it."
It takes the silence that stretches between them for Tony to realize how heavy his breathing has become through his tightening throat. Jesus. He threatened to tell his aunt? Those couldn't have been Peter's words. What did the kid tell him, and why the hell did Murdock conclude that from it? Shit, did the kid think that Tony…? Shit. A small line forms between Murdock's eyes as he shifts his head so his ear is angled to him, maybe anticipating something that Tony can't begin to guess at. But when Tony waits a beat for a response that doesn't come, he takes a small step closer.
"Peter's leaving with me. Tonight."
Murdock gives a slow nod, but Tony can't determine if it's a nod that means he's come to a decision or come to an agreement. "All right, Mr. Stark," he says evenly.
Tony's suspicion at the sudden assent proves true when Murdock leans in, his voice ice.
"But understand this: I will be keeping in contact with him. And if Peter gives me a single reason to believe that he is not safe with you, I will use every legal avenue at my disposal to ensure that he never sets foot under your roof again."
Tony's heart batters against his rib cage. Un-fucking-believable. Not safe with him? Murdock got the kid hand-delivered by the Punisher and it's Tony he thinks he should worry about Peter's safety with. But the kid's still waiting in the hallway, so Tony measures his breath until it's back under his control.
"We're done here," he says through his teeth. "FRIDAY, keep a loose follow on us once Happy shows."
He doesn't check if Murdock's on his tail when he heads for the door. For a moment he wishes for the simplicity that'd come if it had been Castle who called with the kid, but only for a moment. Peter spent far too much time in the hands of Castle already, and asshole or not, Tony can be grateful that Murdock got the kid away from him. Then again, better than the Punisher is a bar so low that he's not inclined to give the lawyer much credit for making it over.
Peter glances up at him the moment Tony pushes the door open. He's sitting against an old radiator with his back against the wall and stops wringing his hands together when his round gaze meets Tony's. He's quick to stand up straight, trying to conceal the confusion and anxiety fighting for dominance on his face when he crosses his arms over his chest.
"Get your shoes on, kid," Tony orders, and immediately fights back a wince at his clipped tone.
Peter shrinks a little as confusion wins out. "Now?"
"Posthaste, Mr. Parker."
"Wait- But I-" Peter cranes his neck to peer around Tony's shoulder, and a glimpse behind him confirms Murdock waiting in the doorframe, cane back in hand. Whatever's on Peter's mind, it has anxiety making a comeback. "Matt, what about the, um-"
"You have my number, Peter," Murdock interjects without any trace of the ice from before. "You can let me know when you're ready to start your internship."
It takes an extraordinary amount of willpower for Tony to stifle his sigh.
Something that he can't quite identify flashes across Peter's face and he wavers as if he's about to say something. But all at once the kid decides against it, and he's back inside and putting on his shoes before Tony can dwell on it. Tony's already leaning for the stairs by the time he returns to his feet, yet instead of following the cue, Peter disappears further into the apartment before Tony can object and emerges before he can make up his mind to fetch him.
Peter's got a flip phone in his hand and Tony glimpses the silver of web-shooters under the cuffs of the black jacket he's zipping up—one of Murdock's, if how loosely it fits his frame is anything to go by. But Tony didn't think to bring an alternative, so he dismisses his annoyance and focuses instead on the fact that Peter has his web-shooters on hand. Disarming your captive is usually the first step, but Tony knows better than to press at it with Murdock in earshot.
Tony clears his throat. "All set?"
Peter gives a tiny nod, but he still turns back to Murdock once he's out the door. "See you later?"
Tony wonders if it was supposed to come out like a question. Regardless, the small smile Murdock offers the kid actually looks like a genuine one. "I'll see you around, Peter."
There's a sharp undertone in his voice that Tony doubts is directed at the kid.
"C'mon." Tony reaches an arm around the back of Peter's shoulders and guides him to the stairs, silently relieved when he doesn't push back. "Happy'll have a heart attack if we keep him waiting."
Blind or not, Tony swears he can feel Murdock's gaze burning into the back of his skull.
Happy, as it turns out, is just as surprised as Tony was.
Peter's quiet "Hey, Happy," and subsequent insistings of "I'm fine" only make Happy's brow furrow tighter, and Tony doesn't have much to offer him when he redirects his puzzled gaze toward him. A large first aid kit catches his eye on the passenger seat, and the only thing Tony can give Happy for certain is a shake of his head when he points his thumb back at it with a questioning look. Once Peter's ushered into the car, the best response Tony has to Happy's mouthed is he okay? is a gesture to put up the window dividing the driver from the backseat.
God, Tony doesn't know where to start.
For the first time in Tony's memory, Peter doesn't break the quiet. He's got his elbow resting on the car's windowsill, leaning his chin into his palm as the city lights shift across his face. He looks just about as lost as Tony would expect him to look, but Tony's brain offers him nothing on how to break him out of it. He'd rehearsed the questions and reassurances over and over in his head, but none of the latter seems to fit and the kid looks like the last thing he's ready to be asked is how long of a break he needs from school or if he'd like for Tony to take over planning his aunt's funeral.
Then again, that first question depends entirely on how long it takes him to remove Castle and Gargan from the picture. And with Murdock gone…
Shit, the kid doesn't need this right now. But they're the questions Tony needs answered, and the sooner he gets them, the sooner he'll be able to clean this up.
"Hey, kid," Tony starts, attempting to quash down the guilt rising in his chest when Peter looks over. The guilt ends up winning, because the only thing he can get out ends up being, "How're you holding up?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm- I'm fine," Peter says, which is the same response Tony's been giving Pepper for the past week.
Get it out, Stark. "Look, there isn't- there's no easy way to say this," Tony begins, and he has to force himself to continue at Peter's swallow. "I saw the security footage from the parking garage."
Peter's eyes drop down to his lap and his hands ball up around the jacket's sleeves.
"You don't have to talk to me about Castle if you don't want to," Tony quickly adds. After all, Yinsen was the only person who knew all that the Ten Rings did to him, and Tony can't say if he'll ever get the courage to change that. "But if you picked up on anything—where he is, what he's planning—I gotta know, kid."
He says it in the softest voice he has, but it doesn't change the way Peter bites his lip or folds his hands together tight between his thighs. When he finally responds, Tony has to strain to hear it. "I- Could you focus on Gargan instead?"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Tony assures, because no matter what Castle did to him, Gargan was the one who murdered his aunt. Tony gets that. But Mac Gargan isn't the one who has military training and expertise on how to kill people while avoiding government detection. More importantly, despite his efforts, Gargan never laid a hand on the kid. And if Peter has intel on the man who did, it won't be useful for long. "Just- Castle's not getting to you again. So whatever it is, you can tell me, all right?"
He waits for Peter to meet his gaze, for the kid to at least get through his head that he's out of the fire and Tony's going to keep it that way. It cuts him when Peter starts giving tiny shakes of his head, but he'd rather have the doubt than what comes out of Peter's mouth next.
"He… didn't kidnap me."
Tony lets out a short huff that covers up the way his heart drops.
"I mean- yeah, he kidnapped me, but he- the building was coming down. He saved my life."
Okay. That could be true. Peter can't be bait for Gargan if he's dead. But something about the way Peter says it, the way he won't meet his eyes, has Tony's mouth going dry. "So he never hurt you?" he asks, forcing his voice to remain steady.
He knows the answer. Peter knows he saw the footage. For once, all he wants is for Peter to tell him something he already knows.
Peter's response almost comes out a mumble, but not without a conviction that makes Tony's blood run cold. "He's not a bad guy."
The final piece snaps into place.
Castle, you bastard.
The kid reads it on his face. "I don't have Stockholm Syndrome."
Because Peter's smart enough to be aware of it and know how it happens, but not smart enough to realize that intelligence has nothing to do with stopping it. Castle wouldn't even have had to do the breaking; the kid lost the closest person in the world to him, and Castle was the only other person in the room. God, Tony should've seen it coming.
"Mr. Stark-"
"He used you for bait and held a gun to your head."
"I know how it looks, but he didn't set up the meeting with Gargan, okay? I did. Mr. Castle was going to kill him-"
Mr. Castle. Jesus Christ. "So he told you—Spider-Man—that he was going to kill somebody, somebody that you expressed you don't want killed, and you really think he expected you to do nothing about it?"
Peter's jaw drops. "That's not- He saved my life. If he was just planning to- to use me-" The kid's voice cracks, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "He couldn't have known I was at the first warehouse. When it collapsed, May was- I'd be dead if he hadn't dragged me out."
Tony closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "He was in the warehouse because he was after Gargan, yeah? And it was in the warehouse he learned that Gargan's after you. Kid, you know-"
"You don't!" Peter snaps, a finger jabbing into Tony's space.
"I know that Castle gave you to Murdock as soon as he learned that using you as bait doesn't work out," Tony replies, struggling to remind himself that Peter's words aren't really his own.
It doesn't stop the heat of Peter's glare from burning at his skin. "He gave me to Murdock to keep me safe."
Goddamnit. "He's Special Ops, and you're a fifteen-year-old kid," he bites out. "You think he doesn't know how to get in your head?"
"He didn't-" Peter cuts himself off, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "Mr. Stark, listen to me- I don't- I don't approve of what he does. But everything he did, he did for me."
"The only thing he did for you is decide to get you a lawyer instead of shooting you in the head."
Fuck. Too far. Tony can make out the shine of tears welling up in Peter's eyes as they pass under the next streetlamp, and shit, he knows better. Shoving the cognitive dissonance in the kid's face now isn't going to do anything except get him to cling to it tighter. This is the kind of knot he has to be patient to untangle, and he'd never get there if he made himself out to be the enemy. An enemy's the last thing the kid needs right now.
So Tony raises a palm and forces his expression back to neutral. "I'm sorry, kid. Shouldn't have said that."
But you meant it hangs heavy in the air between them.
"If you wanna talk to me, I'll listen. No running commentary. Just…" Damn, he's a hypocrite. But breaking the cycle of shame has to start somewhere. "Don't think you have to go through this by yourself."
Peter wipes his eyes on the jacket's sleeve. But instead of talking, all he does is angle his back toward Tony and go straight back to staring out the window.
You are never gonna find that kid again.
Castle will find that Tony's always been more stubborn than his adversaries give him credit for.