"Initial Detention Hearing is brought to order. The Honorable Judge Claudia Porter is presiding. Case is that of the unidentified child John Doe, also known as Spider-Man."
"Good morning, everyone. If the representing parties could state their names for the record?"
"Evelyn Friedman, representing the Department, your honor. Children's Social Worker Ashley Duong is present and can attest to the Detention Report."
"Mark Temple, Attorney ad Litem for the minor, your honor. My client is present by teleconference."
"I would like a verbal confirmation from the child that he is present," said Judge Porter.
"Um, I'm here," said Miles into the phone.
"Have the parties had the opportunity to review the Detention Report in full?" asked Judge Porter.
"I have, your honor," said the lawyer for the county.
"I have, your honor," said Miles's attorney. "However, my client has not had that opportunity. His vision is impaired by full facial bandaging, and arrangements have not been made for him to review the report via screen-reader."
"Is the child thirteen years of age or older?" asked Judge Porter.
"I don't know, your honor, but I believe he is likely to be," said Miles's attorney.
"How about you, young Mr. Doe? Would you tell the court how old you are?"
"Um, no comment," said Miles, already not feeling like this was going well.
"Mr. Temple, have you had the opportunity this morning to explain the salient points of the report to your client?"
"I have, your honor."
"In that case, I have no reason to rule that the proceedings need to be delayed in order that the child have time to review the report. Ms. Friedman, what is the position of the Department?"
"The Department is asking that the court make a prima facia finding on the Detention Report, and detain the child at the hospital where he is currently receiving treatment. The agency's efforts to identify the child and his parents have not born fruit, the parents have not come forward to claim him, and he is without a parent or guardian at this time. The Department also has strong concerns about the parent or guardian's ability to supervise the child in a way that ensures he remains safe."
His attorney had already told Miles that 'prima facia' meant 'on the face of it,' and that was the standard of evidence they used for this preliminary hearing. It was basically the complete opposite of 'beyond a reasonable doubt', and it meant that the judge basically took the facts in the report at face value to make her ruling. Miles thought that was pretty unfair, but he didn't suppose he was in a position to argue the law.
"Mr. Temple?"
"While I do share the Department's concerns that the child's parents are not present, and may be unable to supervise the child, I have strong concerns about the safety of my client should he become a ward of the state. The Department has not addressed how they intend to ensure his anonymity, how they will keep him from AWOLing and placing himself in further danger, nor how they will see that he is protected from assassination."
"Is there a credible threat of assassination?" asked Judge Porter.
"In fact, there was an attempt on my client's life just last night," said Miles's attorney. "I have already confirmed with Officer Jefferson Davis, who is leading my client's protection detail, that an armed individual nearly killed my client last night."
"Was the Department aware of this?" asked Judge Porter.
...
"No, your honor. The social worker has not had contact with the child this morning, and has been at court all morning. She may well have a voicemail to this effect waiting for her, but no. The news had not reached us."
"Young Mr. Doe, is Officer Davis nearby to give comment?"
"Oh," said Miles. The phone was already on speaker phone for his parents to listen in. "Just a sec. Officer Davis, the judge wants to ask you about last night."
His dad shook his head a little and spoke up. "This is Officer Davis. Regarding last night, an individual did reach Spider-Man's hospital room. He was armed, though it appeared that his intention was to introduce an air embolism to the child's PICC line. He was able to bypass both the hospital's and the PDNY's security measures, incapacitating two of our officers to do so."
"Does the PDNY know on whose behalf the assailant was acting?"
"No, your honor. Spider-Man hit the assailant in self defense, and the man's unconscious in intensive care. While we have been able to identify him, he's not been able to make any statement as to who he is associated with, and PDNY is not ready to release speculative information on the matter. We have compiled a pretty long list of people who could want Spider-Man dead, however, including multiple organized crime rackets."
"Thank you, Officer Davis," said Judge Porter. "Does the Department have a response to Mr. Temple's concerns?"
"Your honor, the Department recognizes the high level challenges in meeting the care needs of a child such as this John Doe. The Department is willing to work with the District Attorney's office, should a Witness Protection deal be created. Furthermore, the Department is experienced in managing the confidentiality of high profile cases. In absence of a Witness Protection deal, the Department is looking at utilizing the Interstate Compact to secure confidential placement in a neighboring state."
"Does the Department anticipate finding a foster home that will agree to house a child that has bounties on his head?" asked his attorney. "And could the Department justify placing my client in a foster home that houses other dependent children? Is there any secure facility that the Department contracts with that can prevent Spider-Man from AWOLing."
"Before I hear from the Department, I'd like to hear from you, Mr. Temple. Do you have a suggestion in lieu of a hospital hold?"
"My suggestion is entirely unorthodox, but I believe represents the best interests of the child in this extreme situation. I would suggest that instead of detaining my client with a hospital hold, that the Court detain him in the home of the parents."
This was also terminology his attorney had explained to him. Basically, that the court could claim jurisdiction over him, but still let him live at home.
"This court has never detained a child in the home of parents it has not identified," said Judge Porter.
"I'm certain," said Miles's attorney. "But the fact remains that the prospect of finding suitable placement for my client would be nearly impossible. Can the Department justify having the child discharged instead to their intake facility to await a placement that will never come, placing all of the children there at risk? By detaining in the home of the parents, the Court can maintain jurisdiction while minimizing the possibility of my client being publicly identified and thus endangered. The court could take further steps to protect his anonymity by making orders that the Department is to continue with Ms. Duong and her supervisor through the life of the case, in lieu of transferring to the court intervention and then continuing services workers. The court could also make orders for the Department to not share identifying information with law enforcement."
"The Department and law enforcement are expected to have free exchange of information," said Judge Porter.
"For the purpose of investigating child abuse," said his attorney. "There are no abuse allegations on the original referral, nor the petition, nor in the detention report. Meanwhile, there has been at least one PDNY officer associated with the terror cell that orchestrated the attack. PDNY was unable to keep my client safe just last night. The best interests of the child preclude law enforcement being aware of his identity."
To be honest, Miles hadn't expected much from his attorney, not from the moment he'd understood that the man was supposed to advocate for his 'best interest' instead of his wishes. Especially not when the man had contacted him only a couple hours before the hearing. But he had to hand it to the guy for pulling this argument out of, apparently, no precedent. He didn't know if it would work, but it actually seemed pretty ballsy.
"And how would you propose the Court exercise its jurisdiction if your client refuses to identify himself?"
"My client would be admonished that he is to alert his parents to the proceedings. The agency will also continue placing notifications in major New York publications asking the parents to step forward and identify themselves to the Agency. If they fail to do so, and my client is later identified while jurisdiction is in place, then the parents would be in contempt of court."
"Your honor, with only 'b' and 'g' counts on the petition, jurisdiction could be in place for only six months should the child become whereabouts unknown."
"Noted," said Judge Porter. "Mr. Temple, do you anticipate your client's parents or guardians to be able to keep the child safe? I believe you shared the Department's concerns in that regard."
"Of course, the fact remains that my client has spent the last three months acting as a vigilante, engaging in physical fights with criminals both mundane and extraordinary, and is currently hospitalized, and nearly died, due to intervening in a terrorist event. It is my client's attestation that his parents have not previously known that he was Spider-Man. They both work long hours providing for him, and though he would not clarify, he reports that they had reason to believe that he was in safe care during the times he was engaging in vigilante activity. He believes that they will have realized now that he is Spider-Man, and will take new efforts to ensure he does not engage in dangerous or illegal activities."
Which is something he still had not talked about with his parents.
"Does he have an explanation for why, if they have realized that he is Spider-Man, they have not come forward as his parents."
"He believes that they are protecting his safety by maintaining his secret identity. He said, and I quote, 'There is nothing that would keep them from my bedside and smothering me with attention otherwise.'"
"And how is the court to know that young Mr. Doe is typically in the care of parents or legal guardians? If you could comment yourself, young man?"
"Um," said Miles, not sure how he was supposed to answer that. "I mean, I am. Um…like, you know Spider-Man's always clean, right? My suit's always washed, and in good repair. So, like, I got somewhere to go home to. And you never see me during school hours, so you know I'm in school every day. And like, I got a crazy high metabolism, so you know I'm eating regularly. So, yeah, I got people taking care of me."
"The Court will take that into consideration. Ms. Friedman, has the Department identified a placement that can safely take the child."
"The Department has not yet found such a placement."
"And do we know how long the child's doctors anticipate him being unable to AWOL under his own power."
There was some murmuring that the microphone didn't quite pick up.
"Your honor, I believe the social worker could address that question."
"Ms. Duong?"
"Estimates by the child's doctors are very tentative, your honor. If he continues healing at his current rate, it could be perhaps two more weeks. However, they initially saw evidence of much faster healing. If he begins healing at that rate again, he could be highly mobile within a few days."
"In that case, I am going to continue this hearing until two days from now…the seventh of this week, in this same department. In that time, I would like the Department to create a comprehensive plan for the safe placement of the child."
"Your honor, two days may not be enough time to secure such a plan," said Ms. Friedman.
"If the Department cannot create a plan that addresses the safety of the child, then I fail to see how the court can justify taking jurisdiction," said Judge Porter. "Moving on. The Court makes a prima facia finding on the facts of the petition, that the unidentified child John Doe is a child described by WIC 300 (b) and (g). The Department's hospital hold will be continued until the next hearing. I have found that the Department has made reasonable efforts to identify and notify the parents of the Dependency hearing, and the Department is ordered to continue these efforts. The Department has made reasonable ICWA inquiry, but further inquiry is needed to make a ruling whether the child is or is not not an Indian child. Finally, further findings and orders will be made at the continued hearing.
"Young Mr. Doe?"
"Um, yes ma'am, um, your honor?" said Miles.
"I know that during these proceedings we have perhaps bemoaned the fact that you may be healing too fast for our timelines, but I will say, the court is wishing you a speedy recovery. You are ordered to rest up and take care of yourself, alright?"
"Um, yes, your honor."
"How are you doing there in the hospital?"
"Um, I've been better. One of the nurses here brought copies of her kid's school work to keep me busy, which I have mixed feelings about."
He heard some chuckles from the court room, which he thought had to be a good thing.
"Well, good," said Judge Porter. "Maybe you'll be able to give the Court a book report at the next hearing."
"Um," said Miles.
"With that, this hearing is adjourned. Thank you, everyone, for your participation today."
Miles looked between his parents, who were sitting on either side of him. His vision was just a little bit better, he thought, but he couldn't quite make out the expressions on their faces.
"Could have gone worse," said his dad.
"I think it went pretty well, actually," said his mom. "They weren't going to just agree for him to go home on the first try."
Miles still tended to think it didn't matter much what the court ordered. As long as he maintained his secret identity, there wasn't much they could do about him getting out of anywhere they tried to send him, (assuming he healed all the way; assuming they could keep up this ruse long enough for him to).
"Court's over for the day. You said you'd give me an update," said Miles.
His dad sighed. He'd taken a call about it earlier that morning while Miles was getting his first check-up of the day. When Miles had asked him for an update on what they knew about the assassin, his dad had said they'd wait to worry about it until after the hearing.
"They've got a hit on his finger prints," said his dad.
"Oh, let me guess, he's tied to a dozen unsolved murders," said Miles.
"No," said his dad. "He's a cop. I guess the feds have already confirmed he was on their radar as maybe being one of the conspirators. This is, um, the second cop attached to the terror plot."
Miles didn't say anything to that. His lawyer had said something about PDNY involvement during the hearing, but he hadn't had time to process it then.
"I don't know what you're feeling about that, but…I know I feel betrayed. They betrayed everything they were supposed to stand for."
"Did you ever know them?" asked Miles.
"There's one of them I'd met a few times," said his dad. "The other, I think I'd just seen him in passing."
Miles found himself shaking his left foot from side to side.
"Peter said not to go to the police when he told me how to stop the collider. Said Fisk had people everywhere. Guess it's not just Fisk."
"Yeah," said his dad. "I guess so."
"Mijo," said his mom, clasping his hand, "what are you thinking?"
Miles shrugged. "Things were easier when the bad guys are skinheads and super-villains."
"You're right. Evil doesn't always look like evil. But don't you ever look so hard at the evil in the world that you forget to see the good in it as well."
"'S'why we do what we do," said Miles, his voice feeling thick with his anguish. "'S'about protecting the good things in the world, more'n about destroying things we don't like."
"That's right, Miles," said his dad.
He huffed. "How is the guy, anyway?" asked Miles. "I didn't mean to hit him that hard. Just, everything happened so fast, and I wasn't all the way awake yet. You said he's in intensive care?"
"Yeah, um, he's in bad shape. He's in a coma, right now."
"Oh," said Miles. "Like…like a healing coma?"
"No, mijo, they didn't induce the coma. He has a serious brain injury."
"Oh," said Miles.
It felt a little bit like there was a pressure building up inside of him.
"Is he going to be okay?"
"I don't…" his mother started. She huffed a breath. "He probably won't make a full recovery if he ever does wake up."
"I really didn't mean to hit him that hard," he found himself saying.
Hadn't he, though? He hadn't even thought of holding back.
"Just, he was going to shoot you, dad, and I couldn't reach him properly, so I just grabbed the mallet, and I didn't mean to hit him that hard."
"Hey, we know you didn't mean to, Miles," said his dad.
"But I still did," said Miles.
"Mijo, no," said his mom. "He attacked you in your bed. The only person at fault is him, and anyone who put him up to it."
"That's right," said his dad. "Hey, it's alright to feel regret that he's hurt worse than he needed to be. But don't you blame yourself. You did the best you could. He was trying to kill us, and you protected us."
"He was trying to kill me! He wouldn't have tried to kill you if I hadn't woken you up. And…and Spider-Man's supposed to be better. I have super-strength. I always have to be careful how I use it."
"You stop that," said his mom. "You are thirteen, and you were attacked in your hospital bed. It's our job to protect you, and you did your best when we couldn't. You are not to blame yourself for anything that happens to that man, do you hear me?"
"You guys don't get it," said Miles.
"You're right," said his dad. "We don't get it. We're your parents, and we're never going to expect you to be a superhero. You're our kid, and I would have shot to kill that man if I'd had the chance. I'm glad you understand that you need to be responsible with your powers. I'm glad you don't want to ever use excessive force. But don't you apologize for defending us from the nazi who tried to murder us. You better believe that in that moment, when he was reaching for his gun, our lives were more important than his. You weren't Spider-Man last night. You were a kid in bed."
"I need to be better than that," said Miles. "I almost killed someone, and I almost got you killed."
"You need to heal and go back to school and watch dumb movies with your friends," said his mom. "That's what you need to do. And you need to stop acting like it's not our job to protect you."
"You don't understand, I have to be careful, I have to-."
"You have been careful," said his dad. "There's not been one time anyone's ever been able to accuse you of using more force than you needed to. You've been careful from the beginning."
"Not last night," said Miles.
"You weren't Spider-Man last night," his dad again. "Listen to us when we tell you, you were a kid in a hospital bed."
"I need to be careful," Miles said again.
"We're not complaining about you being careful, mijo," said his mom. "We just don't want you to beat yourself up over this."
Miles nodded.
It had taken him an instant to put a man in a coma. Who knows what kind of brain damage he had. He hadn't even thought about it. How was he supposed to deal with having that kind of power constantly at his fingertips?
His parents backed off, giving him his space for a while. Things got a little hazy for Miles for a bit as he calmed down, drifting through that grey area between sleep and wakefulness.
But Miles was never left alone for too long at the hospital. He started to become more aware of his surroundings again as his mom started bustling about his bed, taking care of some things before Dr. Chase came in for his morning rounds.
"Alright, how are we doing this morning, everyone?" he asked brightly as he came in.
"Mm, okay," said Miles.
"Glad to hear it," said Dr. Chase. "Let's get a good look at you."
He got a look at Miles's chart first.
The exam wasn't quite so detailed as that first one had been (the first one Miles could remember, at any rate). He was a good bit less radioactive than when he'd first woken up. Most of the sores on his body were closed, though not gone. The surface level bruising was gone. His abdomen was still pretty tender, though. His glands were still swollen. He was still in a good bit of pain when his medications wore down.
Dr. Chase was able to confirm that his vision had improved a little, which was the most reassuring thing he'd heard in a while.
"Alright, how about we try a few steps today?" he eventually asked of Miles.
Miles hated that the suggestion sounded daunting.
"Yeah, I'm ready to get out of this bed," he said. What he was ready for was to be considered mobile. Mobile meant he could go to the bathroom. Mobile meant no more catheter; no more sponge baths. The thought of going through another one of those was what was really daunting.
There was still a lot of shifting of tubes and wires just to get him up out of bed.
And it hurt, just getting himself up and seated at the edge of his bed. But he could do this. He could stand up, and it wasn't easy, but it was easier than last time.
Dr. Chase held his hands out for Miles to grab onto if he needed to stabilize himself, and his mom hovered behind him. Miles took a step forward, and almost immediately began to feel dizzy. Not like he was getting light headed, but like he'd been spinning around, and the world kept spinning after he stopped. But he could push through that. He took another step. Dizziness and a lot of pain didn't work well together. He stumbled as he tried to take a third.
"Hold up there, Miles," said Dr. Chase.
Miles was supposed to reach out to take Dr. Chases hands if he needed to, but the Dr. reached out and steadied him instead, with his mom resting her hands against Miles's back.
"What are you feeling there, Miles?" asked Dr. Chase.
"Um, really dizzy," said Miles, not really wanting to admit it, but he didn't think he could really hide it either.
"Alright, let's get you back to bed."
It was frustrating. Sure it hurt, but Miles could walk. His body could walk, but his head was getting dizzy for no reason!
"I'm thinking labyrinth syndrome," was Dr. Chase's eventual diagnosis after checking Miles's ears.
"What's that?" asked his dad.
"More inflammation," said Dr. Chase. "This time of his right inner ear."
Miles groaned in frustration. Something hurt? Inflammation. He couldn't see? Inflammation. He couldn't move around? Inflammation. Now he couldn't walk without getting dizzy? He never thought he'd hate a word as much as he hated the word 'inflammation.'
"What's the prognosis?" asked his dad.
"It should heal up on its own," said Dr. Chase.
"In how long?" asked Miles. He wanted to get out of that bed!
"Hard to say," said Dr. Chase. "I wouldn't expect it to stick around long, though."
Dr. Chase ordered that they wait an hour for the dizziness to subside completely, and then Miles could try a nutrient shake.
Half of a nutrient shake, watered down.
They passed the hour working on math. Dr. Chase had brought a pair of glasses for Miles, though with his vision improving, the glasses were already the wrong prescription. But he could see well enough to read without blowing the text way up on his computer.
"Wait, did you black-out 'Spider-Man' on my laptop?"
"And on your cell phone?" said his dad.
"Why?" asked Miles, a little dumfounded. He was used to having some very basic parental controls on his devices, but his parents had never used it like this before.
"You're in the hospital healing," said his mom. "We don't want you spending hours stressing through news and online forums about the…current events."
"Is it because you're hiding something from me?" asked Miles.
"Would we tell you if there was?"
Miles huffed. Thirteen, he was pretty sure, was a weird age for parents, where they weren't ever sure if they were going to treat him like a young adult or a little kid. It was a little frustrating. Of course, usually it felt like: 'Miles, you're only thirteen, we need to wrap you in swaddling cloth,' alternating with, 'Miles, you're thirteen, you're supposed to know better.'
The dizziness didn't actually last very long at all, fortunately, and Miles didn't think they'd needed to wait the whole hour just to make sure that anything he felt from his failed attempt at walking wouldn't sour his attempt at putting food in his stomach.
'Food'
"Here we go, one vanilla shake, coming right up," said his mom.
"You say that like it's ice cream," said Miles. "And like you don't regularly say, 'what's the point of vanilla when chocolate exists?' And like that's a whole shake, and not a half of a shake watered down," said Miles.
"You want a chocolate milk shake? You need to work your way up there."
He was tired of waiting, tired of being ill.
Honestly, the shake was cool and refreshing to drink down. His mom told him to sip it slowly, but it felt so good, he drank the whole thing in a few seconds.
"Okay, no complaints, I guess," said Miles. "I think I could go for the whole thing."
"We'll wait and see, mijo," said his mom, a little disapproving.
Miles threw up a few minutes later, and for a moment, everything hurt just as bad as it did when he'd first woken up.
He kind of wanted to complain about it. Half a nutrient shake. He should be able to handle that, shouldn't he? He would have complained about it, but he was too busy breathing through the pain while his mom rubbed his back and his dad held his hand tight.
His stomach ached terribly on into the afternoon, though the medicine his mom gave him took the edge off.
What if this was his life? What if he had to take his food through an IV for the rest of his life? No more ice cream, no more bread, or pasta, or greasy burgers. Forget ghost pepper asopao.
"Mom, it's going to get better, right?" he found himself asking. "It's not going to be forever?"
"No, mijo," said his mom. "The stomach heals. Yours will heal."
"Okay," he said. Because he could stand this. He could stand it, as long as there was an end in sight. He just had to believe that there was an end in sight, that he'd be okay.
!
SYNOPSIS: On 01/29/19, suspects David Teller, Charles Barkley, David Nu, and Tyler Earp were involved in a brawl outside of the Holdout Bar on 39th, with bladed weapons involved. Brawl was interrupted by the vigilante Spider-Man (the younger). The four suspects were separated and restrained. BARKLEY and EARP were seen by Paramedics for knife wounds. TELLER and NU arrested for assault with a deadly weapon w/GBI, attempted murder.
…
SYNOPSIS: On 01/29/19, three year old Connie Liu was reported missing by her babysitter after wandering out of her home. Search was conducted, until child was found by the vigilante Spider-Man, who brought the child to officer Tanner #3472. Cross report sent to Department of Children's Services.
…
Dispatch Log, 1/29/19
48270 Hayes Ave.
RP: Michael Connors
RP reports that they witnessed three men mugging a woman. Spider-Man Jr. intervened. Woman fled the scene. Spider-Man was hit from behind with a crow-bar/pipe and suspects ran away. Spider-Man pursued south down 32nd St.
Units dispatched to the area.
Suspects not located.
…
SYNOPSIS: On 01/29/19, suspect Mitchel Gardena attacked victim Janelle Gardena with a baseball bat outside of her place of business. Mitchel and Janelle are married, but no longer cohabitating. There is a restraining order in place protecting Janelle from Mitchel. Janelle was struck in the head, and received a bleeding head wound. Suspect was disarmed and restrained by the vigilante Spider-Man (black suit). Victim GARDENA was assessed by paramedics and transported to hospital. Suspect GARDENA was arrested on charges of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon w/GBI, assault on a spouse/significant other/cohabitant, attempted murder.
…
SYNOPSIS: 01/30/19, suspect Ramon Garcia drove under the influence of alcohol and struck juvenile victim pedestrian Isaiah Jones (14 y/o) in the crosswalk. GARCIA did not engage his breaks, and was stopped from hitting further pedestrians when the vigilante Spider-Man Jr. caught his vehicle and turned it over onto its side. GARCIA was not significantly injured. JONES was in critical condition, and transported to hospital. GARCIA was arrested on charges of DUI with injury.
…
Dispatch Log, 01/30/19.
3920 Lowry Ln., New York, NY 10012
RP: Vigilante Spider-Man (Newer)
RP reports he caught an unidentified man who had fallen from a rooftop. Suspected suicide attempt. Unidentified man is in agitated state.
Paramedics and PERT team dispatched.
Unidentified man transported to hospital, 51/50.
Unidentified man identified as Luca Knolls (39).
…
SYNOPSIS: 01/31/19, suspect Tin Le stabbed victim Maria Lynn twice in the mid left side of her back. Motive unknown. Relationship between LE and LYNN unknown. LE was restrained by the vigilante Spider-Man, who rendered first aid to LYNN. LYNN was pronounced dead at the scene. LE was arrested on charges of homicide.
Jefferson closed his laptop. Miles had started actively patrolling a week after the collider incident. Three days of patrolling, and Miles had intervened in three attacks with weapons, intervened in a suicide, seen a woman get hit in the head with a bat, seen a boy get hit by a car, and had a woman bleed out on him because someone had decided to murder her.
He felt as sick as Miles had been earlier that afternoon.
These were just the things PDNY had record of.
How do you get a kid vigilante with a secret identity a therapist?
You don't. There is no therapist for this, because how could they trust the therapist wouldn't feel like they were mandated to report Miles to DCS the moment Miles said that he intended to resume being Spider-Man? That meant that it was down to Rio and himself to make sure that Miles was okay.
Miles had seen six people die already. How had they thought he was okay? How had they missed that?
Except they hadn't quite thought Miles was okay. Miles had been mourning Aaron. They'd expected grief from him, they'd been trying to help him through that lens of understanding. How many moments where Miles got too quiet, moments of frustration, moments where he wanted to focus on anything other than the question of how he was doing, had they overlooked because they thought they knew what was wrong? It was hard not to look at every moment of the last three months and question it.
But two weekends after the supercollider, three days after that woman had bled out in spite of Miles's best efforts, he didn't have to think too hard about that. Rio had found Miles sobbing in bed after dinner Friday night. They'd spent that weekend alternately trying to keep Miles busy and out of his own head, and trying to talk to him about Aaron. Miles had kept on telling them he was okay. They hadn't known he was mourning the third life he couldn't save.
Jefferson went back to his computer. He couldn't help but to want to get all of the details available, now that he knew to look for them.
It was a grim report. 911 was called when an employee at a nearby open business heard Miles calling for someone to call an ambulance. The employee went outside and saw the suspect restrained and Miles trying to keep pressure on the wound. When officers arrived, the wound had been bandaged, and Miles was performing CPR. One of the officers took over CPR. Paramedics arrived, and the woman was pronounced dead.
In the witness information section, Officer Pellman, who had written the report, had written under witness demeanor: 'distraught.'
Miles told officers that he was swinging through the neighborhood when his 'spider-sense' had gone off. He'd diverted to the trouble. He saw the victim stepping out of a store. He saw the suspect, who seemed to have been waiting for her, peel off from the wall beside the entrance, walk behind her, and stab her. Miles had arrived in time to stop the man from stabbing her a third time. He'd pulled the man back and down onto the ground, webbed him up, and started first aid.
'Spider-Man asked repeatedly what he should have done differently to save the victim's life.'
"Suspect LE spontaneously stated, 'She knows what she did,' while being mirandized by Officer Tanaka. Though Spider-Man was not nearby, he appeared to hear this statement and shouted at the suspect, 'She didn't know anything because you stabbed her in the back!'"
Officer Pellman reported he had tried to get Miles to sit down and take some deep breaths. Miles had run off, still distraught.
Miles was thirteen.
Was he sleeping at night?
If he was, then how? Keeping trauma a secret was exactly how teenagers wound up developing drug and alcohol dependencies. Had they tested Miles when he was admitted? Would his doctors tell them if there was something in his system? He wasn't quite sure where the bounds of confidentiality were for doctors and under-aged patients. Maybe it was the sort of thing the parents had to ask about before they'd disclose anything.
He was pretty sure that he'd taught Miles about the dangers of drugs and alcohol, but he'd also taught Miles not to be a vigilante, and look how that had turned out!
He was maybe getting a little too ahead of himself. It wouldn't hurt to ask Dr. Chase about it though. He would have to talk to Miles about it though, either way. 'Son, don't do drugs, just say no,' was a really different conversation from, 'You've been through incredible trauma, and sometimes people try to use drugs to deal with that, but that's not a healthy way to manage.'
He had to take a moment to pause. The first person he needed to talk to was his wife, because they were in this together. He was pretty sure they'd both be sorry if he ever forgot that. Rio wasn't there though. She'd gone home, the way he should have last night. Excepting that, instead of spending the night, she was coming right back once she'd taken care of a few things. Neither of them felt like being far from the hospital after what had happened the night before.
There was so much that he and Rio hadn't even spoken about. They had been so focused on Miles's health, and safety, and the court proceedings. They still didn't have a plan for what they'd do after Miles had recovered. Was Miles in trouble? Were they punishing him for saving a city full of people? For self sacrifice? They hadn't discussed how they were going to handle the video that had been leaked of Miles being decontaminated. They'd both decided not to tell him about it yet, but they couldn't keep it from him forever, no matter what filters they put on his devices, and maybe how they treated it would affect how he coped with it. Was Rio going to address the fact that Jefferson had volunteered to disarm the bomb? They still needed to work things out with the school even. Everything was on the back burner. He felt restless, he wasn't used to putting things off, he wanted to go talk to Miles, to ask him if he was okay, even though Jefferson knew that he wasn't.
Miles was already asleep, though. He'd asked Jefferson for some time on his own after his miserable afternoon, but Jefferson didn't think he'd managed to stay awake long after being left alone. Miles was getting better about staying awake longer, but he didn't have anything like a normal sleep/wake cycle going yet. He wouldn't be surprised if Miles wound up awake at three in the morning.
Miles being asleep made it easier for Jefferson to project all his worries and fears onto him as he went through old case files.
He supposed the smart thing to do would be to hold off on reading anymore reports about Spider-Man until he had someone awake to talk about them with.
SYNOPSIS: On 01/31/19, suspect Victoria Doula became heavily intoxicated and assaulted her boyfriend Ben Ryder and their son Wylie Ryder (9 y/o)…
!
"Miles?"
"Hm?"
Miles opened his eyes and smiled when he saw the swirling mini-portal hanging in the air above him.
"Down here," he said.
"Yeah, I was figuring," said Penny as the portal oriented itself down to face him. "Are you in the hospital?"
"What gave it away?" he asked, still smiling. Even with blurry vision, her friendly face was a sight for sore eyes.
"Are you okay? What happened? You were still in fighting shape after the attack on May's house, so I assumed you had pretty standard healing and durability."
"I mean, I think I do," said Miles.
"What's got you down? Are you okay? What happened to your communicator?"
"Uhhh, severe radiation poisoning, not doing so hot, and I smooshed the communicator, 'cause I had to get decontaminated by the police."
"How not hot are you doing? How many sieverts? Were you unmasked?"
"I don't know, but it was a lot. I defused a dirty bomb. Everyone's pretty surprised I survived. And I got unmasked, but people are keeping it a secret?"
"Any internal contamination? What was the substance?"
"Yeah, it was boobytrapped with a spray, so I inhaled and swallowed some of it. It was cesium."
"You must feel awful," said Penni. "What are they treating you with? It's the stupid ages over there-"
"Hey!"
"They probably have you on opiates for the pain, and…what, Noel blue dye to get the cesium out of your system?"
"Uhhh, yeah. Or, they call it Prussian blue, here."
"Ugh," said Penny. "I don't know if I can get my hands on any proper pain killers for you. Let's see…okay, we treat cesium contamination with phosphorous-trilicate. It's a lot faster."
"How much faster?"
"Eight-point-three times faster. It works basically the same way, but it's safer, so you can take a much higher dose."
"Well, can you get me some of that stuff?"
"Sure, I can have it overnighted. It'll take a few hours to get it in tune with your universe, though."
"So, uh, who are you talking to there, Miles?"
"Oh, um, hey, mom and dad," said Miles. He couldn't quite make out the look on Peni's face, but he imagined it was just a little flustered. "This is Peni Parker. She's the pilot of the SP/dr armor in another universe. She's got a psychic connection to the radioactive spider that controls the bot."
"I…what?" asked his dad.
"She's from the year 3145."
"3146," said Peni. "We just had New Years."
"Happy New Years," said Miles.
"Thank you!"
"Why is there a hole in the air?" asked his mom.
"Uhhh, I guess I forgot to mention we've all been keeping in contact because Peni figured out how."
"How old are you?" asked his dad.
"Dad, you can't just ask a lady how old they are."
"I'm nine!"
Miles definitely had enough visual acuity to see his dad throw his hands up in the air, and see his mom put her face in her hands. Peni couldn't see them, though, and remained ignorant of just how unhappy his parents were to hear that there was a nine-year-old spider-person.
"So, good news, 3146 has a cool treatment for cesium exposure," he said.
"Yes, we heard," said his mom. "Miles's doctors aren't going to want to give him a medication they don't know anything about."
"That's alright, I can send you some scholarly articles about it, and its pharmacological information. Also, are you feeding your spider-healing?"
"I'm not eating anything, they've got me just on an IV 'cause I nuked my gut."
"He's on a high caloric total IV feeding regimen," said his mom.
"That's not enough," said Peni. "According to the information I got from Peter B., and supported anecdotally from Noir and Gwen, your healing factor is fed primarily by vitamins A, B3, D, and E, as well as magnesium. So, get yourself onto some supplements. And, high caloric for you should be somewhere around…forty-five hundred calories a day."
"Will do," said Miles.
"Can you accept a new communicator right now?"
"I don't think so," said Miles. "I'm kind of under police protection right now. Might get it confiscated."
Peni snickered a laugh.
"What?" asked Miles.
"You're always under police protection. Your dad going to confiscate it if I give it to you a week from now?"
"Uhhh," said Miles, glancing at his dad.
"Yeah, this is not a conversation I'm at all ready to have," said his dad.
"You and Gwen," said Peni. "You're both lawless vigilantes, but you have cops for dads."
"I wouldn't say 'lawless,'" said Miles.
"I mean, from my perspective," said Peni.
"What is your perspective?" asked his mom.
"I'm a soldier," said Peni, unknowingly striking about a dozen nerves in both of his parents.
"Why are you a soldier?" asked his mom.
"Hm? Because people who can pilot mechs are rare, and I was the only person who could inherit SP/dr after my dad died. It was pretty lucky; there was only a fifty percent chance I'd be compatible, but I was! Anyway, I'll let the rest of the Spider-Gang know you're not dead, Miles. You get your rest, and I'll get you your medicine, and your mom'll get you some vitamins, and you'll be out of the hospital in no time! Night!"
"Night, Peni," said Miles.
"Silly, it's noontime here, I'm having gummy worms for lunch. Byeee."
She gave him her signature kawaii pose before signing off.
"Miles, is she really a soldier?" asked his dad.
"Sort of," said Miles, not entirely comfortable with the designation himself. "She's part of this government think tank that protects New York. There's a psychic link between her and the spider they use to control the mech."
"So…she's also a spider-person," said his dad.
"Yeah," said Miles. "She got bit by a radioactive spider, but she doesn't really have the typical power set. Just spider-sense and she's decently strong. Her biggest asset is her brain, though, and that's all her."
"Are you okay with that?" asked his mom. "With her being a soldier?"
"I don't really get a say in it?" said Miles.
"But are you okay with it?"
"Mmm, I don't think it's great," Miles admitted. Something he'd never say to Peni herself. "She's super capable, though. And she has a lot of support. And it's not like anyone's making her do it."
"She's nine, Miles," said his dad.
"I know," said Miles, who didn't really want to have this conversation. His parents would try to circle it back to him being Spider-Man. It wasn't like Miles didn't get that there was something messed up about a government using a kid as a soldier. But at the end of the day, she was a spider-person, and she was doing her duty by her own choice. She'd chosen to get bitten. Peni's world faced extraordinary threats, and needed extraordinary people to face them. She wasn't the only mech pilot in her word. She wasn't even the only kid mech pilot. But Miles had gotten the impression they'd be pretty SOL without her.
What did it matter if Miles was okay with it or not? It was beyond him. All he could do was be a good friend to her, and be available to lend her a hand if he ever could. Peni believed in her cause, just like Miles believed in his own.
"Can we get those vitamins?" asked Miles, very deliberately changing the subject.
"We'll need to run it by your doctors," said his mom.
"All my doctors? They're just vitamins," said Miles.
"At least one doctor," said his mom. "Though we don't even know what percentage of your daily value she's expecting you to take."
"Oh, it's totally on my phone by now," said Miles. "Peni's good like that. Could we call up Dr. Chase?"
"Miles, it's the middle of the night," said his mom. "We're not waking up Dr. Chase.
"But this could get my healing back in high gear," said Miles.
"You're stable, and even doctors need their sleep," said his mom.
"I mean," said his dad. "I'm pretty sure Dr. Christie would be deeply offended if you didn't tell her the minute you found out something about Miles's spider-powers."
"Oh, yeah," said Miles. "Dad's totally right. I bet you Dr. Christie's up right now caressing that vial of my blood she's totally stolen."
"Vial of blood?" asked his dad.
"Be nice," said his mom. "But you might be right."
"About the blood, or…"
The dosing information was on Miles's phone, just as he had expected, along with the scholarly articles about the cesium medication.
His mom sent Dr. Christie a text that read, 'We've heard from one of his spider-friends who told us how to amp up his healing factor.' The response back was very quick, and soon his mom was on the phone with the doctor. Not long after that, the decision was made that adding an extra nightime nutrient bag With the extra supplements to his IV was a low risk venture, and his mom took care of the addition.
Miles didn't feel anything different once all of the supplements were added, other than a feeling of relief. He had a good bit of faith in Peni, and if she said that this would kick his healing factor back into gear, then he fully expected it would. Probably, he'd be well enough to go home when he woke up.
!
"Of course we're excited about a new treatment for cesium exposure. That doesn't mean we can administer a substance we've never heard of before, no mater what literature accompanies it."
Miles had lost count of the number of times he'd awoken to random people talking in or near his room.
"I mean, it's literally an approved treatment in the future, doesn't that count for something?"
That was his dad's voice. The words started catching up with Miles, and he realized they were talking about the new medication Peni had recommended.
"The FDA doesn't recognize drugs approved in the future," said someone. Oh, it was Dr. Nguyen. Miles hadn't had much contact with her, as she'd been comfortable mostly just being there as a consultant.
"I mean, nurse Morales may have a point. This substance could be classified as a dietary supplement, according to this literature," said Dr. Chase.
"Well, she's not technically wrong…it would have to go before the hospital's ethics board, at any rate."
That all sounded to Miles like a lot more trouble than should be needed to take advanced future medicine.
Then he remembered, he'd been given all the vitamins and minerals he was supposed to need to jumpstart his spider-healing last night. Just how well had it worked?
Miles pushed himself up in bed so that he was sitting up. It hurt. It hurt all over. But he hadn't been able to do that so easily yesterday. Miles took a deep breath. It hurt, but not in that deep all-encompassing way that he'd been getting used to. Then he remembered he'd pushed himself up with his hands, and his hands hadn't felt like they were on fire from the pressure.
He brought one of his hands up to look at, and gingerly picked at the end of the gauze that they had wrapped his hand in, pulling it loose. It was too awkward to use his other heavily bandaged hand, so Miles just stuck the end between his teeth and started unwinding the bandage by dragging his hand away from his face. It took a few goes, stretching his arm away, spitting out the end of gauze, taking another piece in his mouth closer to the hand, starting over. But eventually he got his hand completely unwrapped.
He looked at it, (and he was squinting hard, but he could see what he was trying to see), and his fingers no longer looked like overdone hotdogs. They were still healing, still damaged, still hurt, but for the first time, they seemed like they would really be fine. He practiced gently moving his unrestricted fingers around before making a loose fist. Alright, yeah, he could work with this.
"Mijo, what are you doing?" asked his mom from the doorway.
"Look at my hand, mami," said Miles, awfully pleased with himself.
"It looks good," she said, coming into the room. "I mean, it still looks awful, but it looks better!"
"Right? Man, I'll bet I could run laps around this room."
"Let's hold off on any laps," said Dr. Chase.
Miles grinned. He hadn't been serious. Obviously, he wasn't quite that well yet. But he was totally mobile, he knew it.
"You going to do a checkup on me?" asked Miles.
"Seems like the thing to do," said Dr. Chase. "It's been about twelve hours since your nutrition plan was updated."
"Wait, how long have I been asleep?"
"Let's see how well your body's been making good use of that sleep," said Dr. Chase.
It was the first time Miles had had all three doctors in the room for a check-up, and he found it to be a little daunting, with every bandage removed, every test performed. But things were better. Things were definitely better.
"We'll need to get you a different pair of glasses," said Dr. Chase. "Though you may well outgrow them again by tomorrow."
Miles was ready to not need any glasses by tomorrow.
Best of all, Miles was declared mobile. Mobile, as in he could take trips to the bathroom. And, alright, walking sucked. It hurt all over, and it left him ready for a nap just walking fifteen steps, but it was worth it. It was so worth it. No more catheter. No more being completely helpless and dependent. Miles was ecstatic.
Even if it led to: "So…we never have to acknowledge this ever happened, right?" Miles asked Felix. He was hiding his face in the crook of his arm so he didn't have to see what was going on.
"Are you worried I'm going to walk up to you in front of all your friends at school and say, 'Hey, Miles, remember that big long tube I pulled out of you?"
"See, there you go acknowledging it," said Miles. Felix was a chill guy, but he was way more intimately familiar with Miles's body than Miles was really comfortable with. "But definitely don't say it like that. That makes it sound like I'm one of those guys who puts things inside himself."
"What do you even know about that?"
"My mom works in an ER, I know about stuff."
"See, my family doesn't let me talk about the gross stuff at the dinner table," said Felix.
"Oh, no, gross stories are for long car rides," said Miles, "not the dinner table."
Felix snorted a laugh. "Almost done," he said. "Though, you know, this just means you're going to have to do all the urine collection yourself, now."
"Wait, what?" asked Miles.
"The geiger counter's not the only way we've been measuring how radioactive you are."
"Didn't want to think about that, Felix," said Miles.
"Whelp, it's your job to think about it, now," said Felix.
And that was it, Miles was free and mobile. Kind of. But things were definitely looking up. He got some homework done, he listened to his music. He reread bits of The Lord of the Flies finding different points in the story to highlight how he would have written it differently. He drank some juice again, and it went well. They were holding off on trying another nutrition shake just yet, but the juice was nice. Maybe tomorrow he'd down a shake, and then follow it up with a burger. Best of all, he got to go in the bathroom by himself. Sure, he had to get a bunch of embarrassing instructions on how to literally not splash radioactive waste all over the place, but he got to do it himself.
Then Felix came back that evening with all of his stuff for a sponge bath.
"What's all that for?" asked Miles.
"Bath time," said Felix.
Miles frowned. "But I'm mobile. There's a shower in the bathroom, right there."
"Mijo, you're just barely mobile," said his mom. "You're not ready to be alone in the shower yet."
"But…" said Miles. His every achievement for the day felt like it had suddenly become null and void. He thought he was past this. He was better; he could take care of himself. He didn't need Felix to help scrub him in his bed. He wanted his own dignity back.
"I can do it, come on," he said. "I feel great." He didn't feel anywhere close to great, but he felt better! "I'll sit on the shower bench, and everything'll be fine. I'll even be super quick."
"Miles, it's not safe," said his mom. "Especially if you're rushing to be super quick-."
"Then I'll be super slow," said Miles.
"You can still fall off the shower bench, or fall when you stand up, even pass out," said his mom. "You're not ready to be out of bed unsupervised for more than a few minutes."
"But…" he trailed off dejectedly.
"Hey, what if I was in there with him?" asked his dad. "Would that be a good compromise?"
It was a good compromise. It wasn't close to what Miles wanted, but it was way more dignified than a sponge bath. And, if Miles didn't think too much about it, he could just pretend like they were back home, sharing a bathroom in the morning. That could work.
Except pretending fell apart at the execution. Because his dad gingerly helping him to sit down on the shower seat didn't feel like sharing the bathroom at home. Having his dad fuss with the shower knobs for him, while he fiddled with his capped off PICC line, didn't feel like sharing the bathroom at home. His dad wearing a lead apron didn't feel like sharing the bathroom at home. Feeling like he'd just done an extreme workout from walking into the bathroom, undressing, and sitting down, didn't feel like sharing the bathroom at home.
"Here you go," said his dad, handing him a washcloth once the water was at a good temperature.
Miles draped it over his lap. Because this wasn't like sharing the bathroom at home. His dad handed him another washcloth, and Miles started in on his feet. For a moment, bringing his foot up over his knee and leaning over it, he felt the slightest bit light headed, and had the sudden sense of just how easy it would be for him to fall off the seat. He eyeballed the handrails and resolved to take it slow.
His dad sat down on the closed toilet lid.
"So how's that English essay coming along?" he asked, never one to just let them sit in silence, and Miles was grateful for that, this time.
"Pretty good," said Miles. Aside from preventing awkwardness, it was nice to take his mind off what he was doing. His body still hurt to move, and the soap irritated the remaining open sores all over him. "I think I've argued all my main points where I'd, like, sort of flip the story around. Like, instead of a fall from grace at the end, they begin with them taking all the worst things they learned from a world at war, and making each other miserable, and they have this low point where they have to decide to be better, and learn to make their own, like, Garden of Eden. So, a reverse fall from grace."
"What's their low point?"
"Oh, well, I figure Simon still has to die."
"Oof," said his dad.
"I mean, it is the most important part of the book." Then, because he didn't want this to be awkward, he joked. "Hey, is it fitting for me to be talking about my Lord of the Flies essay when I'm just as naked as them?"
His dad laughed. "You remember when we read The Great Brain when you were little, and you wanted to know why you couldn't skinny-dip like those boys did?"
"Man, why do parents always have to bring up embarrassing things from when their kids were little?" asked Miles.
"You're not still little?" asked his dad.
"Man," Miles complained. Sometimes he looked at his dad, and couldn't fathom ever being that big and commanding.
"You want me to get your back for you?" asked his dad.
That didn't feel like sharing the bathroom back at home. But for as flexible as Miles was, twisting his own arms around to scrub his back felt like an insurmountable task the way he was feeling at the moment.
"Yeah, okay," he said.
His dad got another washcloth and started in between his shoulders. It wasn't like when Felix had done it a couple of days ago. Not just because his dad was a little more gentle. But more that it being his dad doing it for him made it feel like he could relax about this. That it was okay for him to get a little help.
Then his dad took it upon himself to start washing Miles's hair, and it felt soothing, fingertips running along his scalp. Which was when it suddenly hit Miles, this actually was a good bit like sharing the bathroom back home. Except, not like it was a few months ago, but like it was more than a few years ago, back when the easiest way to give little Miles a shower was to toss him in when one of his parents were taking one.
And suddenly Miles's face was screwing up and he was sobbing, hunched over on his seat as his dad hovered nearby.
"Miles? Hey, what's the matter?"
Miles shook his head, not even sure what the matter was, because this wasn't so bad at all. He heard the sound of the shower knobs turning, as the water was turned off. His dad came further into the shower and put a hand on Miles's shoulder.
"Hey, talk to me, Miles, what is it? Does something hurt?"
"Something always hurts," said Miles. "There's always something I can't do. I- I just want this to be over. I don't want to feel like a little kid who can't do anything for himself. I'm thirteen, I'm not supposed to need help in the shower."
"Miles, hey, this has nothing to do with how old you are. You're hurt. It's okay to need help."
"I'm supposed to be better," said Miles, the warm shower spray now replaced with hot tears running down his face`.
"What are you even talking about?" asked his dad.
"Everything's messed up, and I'm messing everything up, and none of the other spider-people ever got unmasked after three months, and I couldn't even stop one idiot with a gun without messing it up, and dad, I don't know if I'm really ever going to be better."
"Of course you're going to be better, Miles. And you haven't messed anything up."
"I have!"
"You've been incredible," said his dad. "You saved all our lives three times now. We had a bad situation last week, and you made the best of it. And I'm never going to say you were right to go up there, because I'm your dad, and it's my job to protect you, but you didn't mess anything up. You getting unmasked was always going to happen; the moment you made contact with that bomb, you were going to need to be hospitalized. That's just…that's just the hand we were dealt."
"What if I don't get any better than this?" asked Miles.
"Then you'll have a dad who's happy to scrub your back anytime, Miles."
Miles sniffled. "I'm supposed to be-"
"There's no supposed-to-be's," his dad told him gently. "You've gotta take life as it comes at you. You make the best of it. Stop worrying about supposed-to-be. Just because you don't wind up where you expected doesn't mean you can't be amazing where you are. I don't want you to ever think your superpowers are what made you special, Miles. Your value has nothing to do with how well you can punch criminals or even how self-sufficient you are."
Miles sniffled again, and then he realized something.
"Hey, I'm crying," he said.
"Yeah?"
"I mean, I'm really crying. I've got actual tears!"
His dad started for a moment. "Well, hey, there you go. Your tear glands, that's one more box to check off as healed."
Miles heaved out a heavy sigh. "I never thought I'd be relieved to be crying."
"Hey, it's good stress relief," said his dad. "You okay?"
Miles nodded.
"Alright, well let's get you cleaned up, then. I don't know if you noticed, but you were getting pretty ripe out there."
"Dad, come on, I just saved the city. You can't be mean to me, like, for an entire month."
"Oh, is that what you think?"
Miles figured he was going to be grounded the moment he got home from the hospital, so he didn't credit the idea either.
!
"Hey, kid, so what's this I hear about you beating nazis?"
Miles smiled groggily up at the portal over him.
"Hey, Noir," he said. "Yeah, we had some nazis."
"Good job, kid. You give them the ol' one-two?"
Miles pushed himself back to sit up in his bed. "I didn't actually fight any of them, until a couple nights ago, one got into my hospital room. But before, I just handled the bomb."
He looked around the room. His mom was asleep on the couch, and his dad was still out.
"Then you did all the heavy lifting," said Noir. "Foiled their plans, good on you. I'm proud of you, kid."
"Thanks. Hope I didn't worry you guys when I went dark."
"Nah, I figured you had it handled. And look at you, repelling attacks from your hospital bed. Not easy to keep you down."
"Ugh, hasn't really felt like it," said Miles.
"Lucky for you, I've got something that should help. Straight from Peni."
"You got my meds?" asked Miles.
"Sure do," said Noir. "Here you go, kid. Though, I will miss the entrancing bottle these things came in."
Noir reached through the portal to hold out an emerald green plastic bottle, which he handed to Miles.
"You guys taking turns seeing me?" asked Miles, unable to think of any other reason for the pills to come through Noir.
"We figure you needed your rest," said Noir. "I claimed the right to see you tonight to congratulate you on your victory against those schmucks. You keep up the good fight."
"Will do, Peter. Thanks."
Miles relaxed back into his bed once the portal closed.
"Another friend of yours?" his mom's voice startled him. He hadn't realized she'd woken up.
"Yeah," he said. "He's a really cool Peter. His favorite thing to do is punching nazis."
"They have a lot of those where he comes from?" she asked.
It was just the two of them in the room. After a lot of back and forth between his parents, his dad had agreed to leave for the evening.
"Yeah, he's in the 1930s, so there's an unfortunate number of nazis."
"Oh! Has the war started there, yet? Or…I suppose there might not be a war, if it's a different dimension."
"It's started," said Miles. "The US just hasn't gotten in it yet. He's been, um…he's been putting together history from our different universes, and so, um, he's actually been talking about assassinating Hitler, in his universe." Actually, there was a list of names and places that had been compiled, as far as assassinations and acts of sabotage to end the war went, but it felt a little more sane to boil it down to 'assassinate Hitler.'
His mom blinked at him. "Wouldn't that be something?"
"I think he can do it," said Miles. "Plus, Peter B. and Porker have already said they'd back him up if he ever got the opportunity."
"You never said that you were able to visit each other."
"Only for twelve hours," said Miles. "The thing Peni did to these pills to make them stable here can't really be done with living things. The tech she put in her travel devices keeps you stable for a little bit, but you always have to go back before long."
"Have you ever gone?"
"Not for like a mission, or anything," said Miles, pretty sure his mom wouldn't believe him if he told her he hadn't gone at all. "The Peters kind of put the kibosh on us kids getting ourselves involved in other universes trouble. S'why if I ever bite off more than I can chew, I'll probably call Peter B., or Noir, or Porker, before like, Gwen or Peni."
He'd only visited Gwen's universe once, as a test. Opening portals safely was resource intensive on Peni's end, and the cost was exponential to the size of the portal."
"When would you call Porker?"
"If I need to break the rules of physics," Miles said easily.
"Noir, if you need to punch nazis?" asked his mom.
"Something like that," said Miles.
"Why didn't you call your friends when you were dealing with the bomb?"
Miles shrugged. "I didn't want to irradiate them, too. I'd thought maybe Peni could give me some technical advice, but even then, I wasn't sure if radiation would pass through the portal itself. And, I mean, from my perspective, I think it all worked out okay."
"Oh, from my perspective, one child in the hospital with radiation poisoning is better than two," said his mom.
"Can I take my meds now?"
"Tomorrow morning, so they can monitor you," said his mom.
"Hmph."
«Are you pouting under all of those bandages?»
«Yeah,» said Miles.
«Get some sleep, my son."
!
The next morning saw Miles going into the bathroom to procure some 'before' samples for the doctors. This was followed by a couple more hours of basic chemical analysis of one of his new pills, before the hospital had begrudgingly allowed him to take the medication. His parents had had to sign about a dozen different forms first, promising not to sue the hospital if something went wrong.
Predictably, Miles did not immediately feel any better, or even any different. Even if a part of him had irrationally imagined he would. The medication only helped his body flush the cesium out of his system faster. That meant all it was doing was preventing further damage over the next few days.
Miles did also feel a god bit better when he woke up than when he'd gone to bed. They let him walk out into the hallway and walk down to the windows at the end of the corridor. There was a window seat there, and Miles was able to sit down there and look out at the city.
Perhaps it should have been a good chance to appreciate the view and relax, but all the sight of his city did for him was make him think of the duties he'd abdicated for the last week. Duties he still didn't know when he'd be able to return to. He couldn't help but think that there were probably people in the morgue right now that he could have saved, if he'd been out there. And maybe he could have been, if he had not gotten himself sprayed. He thought he could have recovered pretty quickly if he had only had to deal with the radiation coming off the bomb itself. It was the internal contamination that had probably stressed out his healing factor too much in the first place.
He kept thinking about why his spider-sense hadn't warned him about the spray. It was his own fault, he was pretty sure. He had been rushing, after the sniper, hyper focused on getting the panel off. His spider-sense wasn't quite the same as Peter's. More powerful in ways, leading him across town at times, like Gwen's had, but also more fallible. Miles had to keep himself in tune with it. And because he'd let that slip, he'd missed the spray.
Because he'd missed the spray, he couldn't save anyone now. The city needed him, and he wasn't there.
He missed the days when getting hit by a drone was his biggest screw-up after officially taking on the mantle of Spider-Man, but then, the screw ups had started piling up as soon as he had actually started patrolling. This wasn't even the first time his Spider-Sense hadn't been good enough, fast enough.
"What are you thinking about?" asked his dad.
Miles shrugged. He knew his dad would just tell him that it wasn't his job in the first place to be saving anyone.
"Well, let's get you back to your room. Your hearing shouldn't be too long from now."
"What're the chances they just drop it?" asked Miles.
"Not likely," said his dad.
The walk back was even more tiring, but he made it.
"Continued Detention Hearing is brought to order," the bailiff eventually announced. "The Honorable Judge Claudia Porter is presiding. Case is that of the unidentified child John Doe, also known as Spider-Man."
"Alright," said Judge Porter, "the purpose of this continued hearing is to determine whether or not the Department has identified an appropriate safe plan for the child's placement, and proceed accordingly. Ms. Friedman, the Department's position?"
"The Department has been unable to identify a placement that meets the care needs of the child."
Miles perked up.
"I'd like to hear from Ms. Duong on her efforts," said Judge Porter.
"The matter of placement has been elevated to the highest levels, your honor," said his social worker. "All representatives in the interstate compact have been contacted. We have not heard back definitively from all representatives yet, but none of those that have given a response have suggested having a suitable placement, based on the placement criteria listed on my addendum report.
"We have reached out to the District Attorney's Office to inquire about the use of the witness protection program. They are still assessing their willingness to create such an agreement. They recognize that my client has valuable information for many of their cases, but they are also doubtful that they could maintain him in witness protection, given his needs, and the fact that we still do not know his identity or who his guardians are.
"We have also reached out to juvenile probation. They have indicated the possibility of placement options that they are assessing in advance of the possibility of charges being brought against the child. However, charges have not been brought at this time, and the impression that I've gotten is that they may well not be.
"Quite frankly, your honor, every agency we've interacted with seems to want to delay any action concerning the child in the hopes that another will take care of it for them."
"That's as may be," said Judge Porter, "but it's the reality we have to contend with. As much as I would like to, I cannot compel any of these agencies to bite the bullet on this matter. Do you have an update on the child's condition."
"Yes, your honor. The child's doctor reports that while many of the injuries to the child's face and hands make him impossible to identify, his constitution has improved drastically. He is already considered mobile, and could be able to AWOL under his own power soon."
"Mr. Temple, do you have anything to add to your position?"
"I don't, your honor. I think at this point it is clear that barring a significant intervention from law enforcement, my client will be able to AWOL with his secret identity intact, making the matter of placement almost moot. On the off-chance that he does not AWOL, the Department has no safe placement for him."
"Ms. Friedman?"
"Our only counterargument would be that if the Court orders the continued hospital hold, and continues the issue of placement, then should the child AWOL, he could be classified as runaway, and juvenile probation could be forced to open a case."
"I wasn't under the impression that the Court made orders with the intention of tripping children into the criminal justice system," said Mr. Temple.
"Both of your proposals necessitate the Court breaking from precedent," said Judge Porter. "Both proposals rely on the Doe child being identified at a future date for jurisdiction to be exercised. In the end though, I believe I'll leave the question of criminality to the justice department.
"Given that the Department has no safe placement for the youth, who is likely to AWOL anyway, I hereby order the child detained in the home of the parents. The child is admonished to alert his parents or legal guardians to these proceedings, and to provide his parents with the contact information for his county social worker Ms. Duong. The Department will continue placing weekly notices in local publications asking for the parents to come forward. Should the parents or legal guardians not identify themselves to the court, they will be considered to be in contempt of the court, should they be identified by other means during the life of this case. The county social worker Ms. Duong will cary this case through completion, and all files will be sealed to the Department and the Court's highest level of security. The Department is not to share identifying information regarding the Doe child with any law enforcement agency, barring further orders from this or a higher court. With that, I bring this detention hearing to a close. And, Spider-Man?"
"Uh, yes ma'am?"
"I want you to know that I will be very disappointed if I see you swinging through the streets again anytime soon. I hope that you understand that our concern is for your safety."
"I um, I understand," said Miles.
"Good. Because I also want you to know, we are not condoning you running away from the hospital. We are not condoning you keeping your identity a secret from us. We have made these decisions because we believe it is the best way to keep you safe, given your intent to run away."
"Yeah, I uh, I get that."
"I hope so. Thank you, everyone, for your participation today. Ms. Duong, Mr. Temple, do make sure that the Doe child has your contact information."
Miles looked up at his parents when the call was finally ended.
"I guess we won, then," he said.
"Don't think you can get away with it a second time, Miles," his dad said, heavily. "There's consequences to playing the system like this."
Miles nodded. The judge and his dad both were making it hard for him to feel like this was a win, but it wasn't like the ruling was all that important in a practical sense. He was always going to run before he could be formally unmasked, and he had no intent of ever being unmasked to anyone else, let alone CPS. He would have thought that his dad would be a little bit more happy with being more legally in the clear, though. Now, no matter what happened, no one could ever say that his parents had 'kidnapped' him from the state.
"Well, it's over for now, at any rate," said his mom. "And, it's lunch time."
Miles hummed thoughtfully, as he looked with doubt at the nutrient shake his mother was holding out. The last time he'd tried one of these things, he'd thrown up and been in a lot of pain afterwards. It was almost enough to make him refuse it. Except, maybe it was because he wanted to hurry up and be better, or maybe it was because he still wanted to fill his stomach, but he wanted that shake.
He did sip it slow this time, though.
It was nice.
"Okay," he said when it was finished, "now how about a burger."
His mom swatted at him.
"Have you thought about how you're going to get out of the hospital?" asked his dad.
"I mean, my first thought was to web sling out of here," said Miles. "Then I remembered I don't have my web shooters. And also, these windows don't open, do they?"
"Were you thinking you were well enough to be swinging between buildings?" asked his mom.
"At high speeds," said his dad. "How fast do you even go on those things?"
"Uhhh, I don't think anyone's ever clocked me," said Miles. "But someone once clocked Peter swinging at a hundred and twelve miles an hour. I think he was probably throwing himself into his swings when they got that number, 'cause I don't think I swing around that fast unless I'm really hauling to get somewhere. 'Course, short distances, I can run faster than that."
"How fast can you run?" asked his mom.
"Stupid fast," said Miles. "Anyways, I figure I can just turn invisible and walk out of here."
"How far can you walk, is the question," said his dad.
Miles frowned at his lap. He hated every reminder that he'd gone from being hyper-mobile to being glad-just-to-be-mobile.
"The bathroom yesterday, the hallway today. The parking lot by tomorrow, I should think," he finally said.
"We'll see what Dr. Chase thinks about that," said his Mom.
"I'm out of the woods, aren't I?" asked Miles. "My stomach's not hurting from the shake. I'm not going to be all that radioactive by tomorrow evening. My vision's only a little blurry."
"You still have trouble taking deep breaths," said his dad, "and your hands still look like you stuck them in an oven."
"My stomach and my lungs were the worst affected. And my stomach's already all healed-"
"That shake is very easy to digest, mijo," said his mom.
"So that means my lungs are basically fine, and I don't need my hands to be one hundred percent to get out of here. They work, don't they?"
"Healing doesn't work that way, Miles," said his mom.
"Well my healing's in high gear," said Miles, "and the longer I stay here, the more likely it is someone's going to try to kill me again, or a federal agent is going to come in and try to get a picture of my face."
"He has a point, there," said his dad.
Miles thought he's been making a lot of good points over the last few days, but he'd take what he can get.
"Plus, you're a nurse, mami," said Miles. "I'm pretty sure I'd be okay at home."
"I'm glad you have faith in me, mijo, but there could be complications that I'm not equipped to handle at home."
"Is that likely?" asked Miles. "With how well I'm doing, how fast I'm healing?"
"I don't know," said his mom. "That's why we'll talk to your doctor."
Doctor Chase didn't think it was a great idea. He was worried about further complications too, and he noted Miles wouldn't be able to lug an oxygen tank with him while invisible, meaning he'd have to make the trip without oxygen support. But that evening, there was another attempt by paparazzi to incur on his hospital room, which rather tipped the scales for everyone. The next morning, after his check-up, Miles turned invisible and walked out of his hospital room.