Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Marvel Studios, Disney, and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: Hey, all! Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I don't think I've told you guys this, but I have chronic health issues and I'm going through a bit of a rough patch of it rn. Plus, I decided I kind of just need a break from posting. I'm not going to stop writing, I just need to hold off on deadlines and stuff for a little bit. Sorry about this!

Also yes, I changed the chapter title again. I'm in a Fleetwood Mac phase, so the title comes from Tango in the Night. Do I feel accomplished for choosing a song from Nicks, McVie, and Buckingham? Maybe. But what can I say?

Hope you enjoy,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~primis, omega, superhero, genius~

~somebody to love~

~chapter 8: tango in the night~

Penny heard the news that Tony Stark had died while at work.

It was a busy morning. They were on a six, but the restaurant was packed and there was a waitlist which looked to be as equally as long. Her only solace was that it was eleven, and as such she only had an hour left to go before her relief would arrive. Then she could start on her outs and go on patrol as Spider-Woman.

"One blueberry pancakes with bacon," she said, setting the plate down in front of one of the people at the fifth two-top in her section. She also had a three-top, a four-top, and a six-top that hadn't ordered yet. "And one breakfast steak with eggs, hash browns, and toast. Everything look good? Is there anything else I can get you?"

"A refill of coffee, please," Mr. Breakfast Steak replied.

She grinned. It shouldn't have mattered, she was used to customers treating her like shit, but she was always secretly thrilled when some of them had the decency to use manners. "You betcha. I'll be right out with that."

She walked back to the waitress station, tossing the tray into its slot. Then, grabbing a pot of coffee – still hot – she walked back over to the two-top and refilled the man's mug. She did the same at another one of her tables, winking at them. "You guys still need a few minutes? Okay, I'll be right back to take your order."

It was as she was going back towards her station that she heard one of the people – no, several of them, actually, inhale their breaths sharply. Curiously, she looked up from her destination and where their heads were facing: the TV near the bar. Bélen had had it installed three or four months ago, saying one of the regulars had suggested it and she'd decided it was a good idea. Most of the customers agreed.

But she couldn't care about that right then, as her eyes zeroed in on the headline CNN was reporting: BREAKING NEWS: TONY STARK, CEO OF STARK INDUSTRIES AND IRON MAN HERO, KILLED IN TERRORIST ATTACK.

The coffeepot fell from her hands.

Thankfully, it didn't break or spill. Dazedly, robotically, she reached down and picked it up. She followed the path she'd been taking, setting down the pot on the bar counter as a distinctive ringing sound began filtering through her ears.

Tony Stark was dead.

Penny didn't believe it. It didn't make sense. He couldn't be dead. If he was dead, then she would know. Whether she liked it or not, they were mates. That meant she would have felt him dying, just like she had with Harry. The bond would have severed, and she would've gone into withdrawal from it, shivering and shaking as her body burned from the –

Except.

There was no bond, was there?

Stark was one of her mates, yes, her soulmates, but they weren't bonded. He didn't even know who she was beneath the mask. What she was to him.

Vaguely, she felt her breathing begin to pick up.

"Penny?" a voice asked. It sounded like it was underwater. Blinking, she saw Jason was standing in front of her, worried. "Penny, are you okay?"

She knew she should probably reply to him, but she couldn't get her voice to work.

"...think she's having a panic attack, Jason," an older gentleman at the bar, a regular, said.

Her manager's face paled. "Right," he spoke. Gently, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her back towards the kitchen. "Come on, Penny."

Usually, she would've protested anyone trying to touch her. Ever since Harry had died, people touching her when she wasn't Spider-Woman was a big no-no. Jason knew the first part of that.

But the sound of her blood rushing through her ears was overpowering to anything else.

Jason led her through the kitchen and to the back, where the break room, office, and dry stock were. Taking his key to the second, he unlocked the door and pushed her inside, shutting it behind the both of them. In here, the cacophony of everything else wasn't nearly as loud, albeit she could still hear it all thanks to her enhanced hearing.

"Penny," Jason said firmly. "Tell me five things you can see."

She stared at him wordlessly.

"Come on, you can do it," he snapped. "Five things you can see?"

Her vision darted away from him, the rest of the office taking his place. "The desk chair," she stated blankly. "The safe. The ceiling lights. Bélen's radio. The hallway through the door window."

"Good," he encouraged. "Now, four things you can hear."

"You." Her lips were dry. Taking her bottom lip into her mouth, she breathed in through her nose before she spoke again. "Grill line. The customers. The AC."

"Three things you can smell?"

"Bacon. Pancakes. Eggs."

She thought he might've snorted at that. "Two things you can touch?"

"My apron. The wood of the desk."

"One thing you can taste?"

"Coffee."

His visage was appraising. "Better?"

There was no "better" about it. Her mate was dead. She'd just had a panic attack at her job.

"Oh my God," she lamented, the last one registering in her brain. "Jason, I'm so sorry – "

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed. "I get it."

The second worst thing about the whole mess was that she thought he did.

Maybe not all of it, but definitely some.

As if proving her point, he said, "If you need to leave to find out what's going on, I understand."

She attempted to play dumb, if only for her sake and nothing else. "Jason, I have no idea what you're talking abou – "

"Don't bullshit me," he retorted. But his tenor was calm, and one of the edges of his mouth was sliding upwards. "Bélen and I figured it out months ago. We know you're Spider-Woman."

Penny's eyesight blurred. She choked out a laugh. "What gave me away?"

He smirked. "Showing up early the day after a literal alien invasion, for one. With Bélen and I, and technically the other managers even though they didn't, it should've been a no-brainer. But for a waitress who had only been working here for six months...yeah, not so much."

The reveal hit her like a punch to the gut. "I can wait to leave until the end of my shift, Jason."

"I know." He patted her on the shoulder. "But I also know the quicker you get some answers, the better. And...I can't let you back on the floor. You did just have a panic attack in front of the entire restaurant."

This, she was reminded, was another one of the many reasons why she liked working at the diner. Bélen, Jason, and the other three managers who worked there (although she didn't work with them as much due to her shifts) were always so understanding.

Maybe too understanding, it occurred to her with a pang of her heart.

But she would worry about that later.

"Thanks, Jason," she told him. "Really."

"Thank you for what you do," he shot back. "It means a lot."

Penny had a second panic attack as soon as she got back to the apartment.

She felt it creeping in before she opened the door to the studio, her hands shaking and making it almost impossible to get the key into its slot. She felt cold, a phantom memory of how she'd felt over a year ago. The shower had been freezing when she'd finally been forced to take it. Drops of water had been like ice on her skin, while within her the fire burned raged, threatening to consume her in its entirety.

(It almost had.)

A keen came up from her throat. She smacked a hand to her mouth, head tossing wildly around to make sure no one else was in the hallway. Seeing no one, she forced the key into the lock with difficulty and fled into her apartment. She shut and locked the door behind her.

Her thoughts started to spiral. It wasn't fair. Why would the universe do this to her? Give her four different soulmates that she didn't want, then take one of them so cruelly away? Was it some demonic climax of her shitty Penny Parker™ luck? She couldn't only lose her parents, her uncle, her aunt, her husband, her friends, her identity, but someone she didn't want to love, too?

Collapsing onto her bed, she pulled one of her pillows to her face. She screamed into it, producing tears that were as terrifyingly familiar as they were unwanted.

She didn't know how long she remained like that. Eventually, when there were no more tears to shed, she raised her head. The sun had trekked its way across the room, letting her know it was closer to five or six now instead of one in the afternoon.

Something akin to resolve settled within her. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she crisscrossed her legs and grabbed the remote to her TV. It took her four attempts to press the "on" button, and another two to change the channel to CNN. Watching national news wasn't something she really did anymore, as she tended to stick to the local instead and ignore the rest of the world she was no longer part of.

But watch, or rather listen, she did as she forced herself to her feet and into the kitchen. She made herself consume a glass of water and several homemade protein bars, and nearly coughed them both back up as she listened to the reporters' commentaries on Stark.

Most of what they were saying was eulogizing in style: saying Stark did this or that, how he would be remembered. But the recaps they gave of what had apparently happened in the past couple of days were terrifying, filled her very soul with dread.

Stark had been targeted by the Mandarin, the man who had held him captive in Afghanistan. The leader of the Ten Rings terrorist organization. The Mandarin had critically injured Stark's longtime friend/driver, Harold Hogan. In response, Stark had revealed his address on live television, goading the Mandarin to come attack him. He had, and that was how Stark had died. Pulled into the ocean along with the rest of his Malibu mansion.

But dread wasn't the only thing which filled her, because what Stark had done was reckless. It was stupid. He'd let his ego get the best of him, and now he was dead.

And she knew what she was thinking was stupid, too, but again that feeling she'd felt back on her twenty-second birthday returned. It churned in her gut, to the point where even the smell of the protein bars became nauseous. Hurriedly, she forced them back into her fridge.

Betrayal.

Except this time, she was the one who had been betrayed. By somebody who didn't even know her.

As rage began to coincide with her other tumultuous emotions, Penny went over to her bed. From underneath it, she took out the case that contained her Spider-Woman suit and took it out. She exchanged it for the uniform she was wearing, putting her waitress dress and apron on her bed.

And then she was off.

She didn't go to the Avengers Tower, as everyone was now calling Stark's Tower due to him not replacing the 'S,' 'T,''R,' and 'K' billboard letters that had fallen during the Battle of New York. Well, that and the fact she was pretty sure all of the other members besides her, Rogers (who still lived in his apartment in Brooklyn), and Thor (who was off-world) lived there now.

They were precisely the reason why she didn't go. The Tower was Stark's territory and because of that it called to her like a lighthouse did a ship at sea, but she couldn't face her other three mates. Not all at once. If she did, she was almost certain she'd fall at their feet and weep.

If she did, she was almost certain she'd unravel at the seams.

There was an abandoned warehouse, in Brooklyn. Ben had taken her there as a kid. She'd gone there back when she'd first gotten her powers, and been entirely oblivious to the fate which would befall her.

This was where she went. It hadn't changed much since she'd last come a couple years ago. It was perhaps slightly more dilapidated, but most of it had weathered the passage of time well. Not even a hundred feet away, the bay lapped at the sea walls, with a variety of smooth rocks forming as gravel between it and the building.

Penny took one of those rocks. She picked it up in her hand, feeling its flat surface, and flung it out at the ocean. It skidded across the water for over a hundred yards, then dipped into the darkness. She grabbed a second stone and repeated the gesture.

Then the tears returned. Her keening did, too. She made no move to stop either.

Out here, there truly wasn't anyone who could hear her. She was almost like her parents, Ben, May, Harry. Just another forgotten name in the wind. Just another body waiting to be put in the ground.

(Stark, too.)

"Spider-Woman."

She couldn't find it in herself to feel surprised. "Fury."

She was sitting on the expanse of gravel now, her legs drawn up to her chest. Her mask was still on, but of that Fury made no comment as he approached her.

"You know, when the media broke their stories about Stark dying, I thought you would show up at his Tower," he remarked. He sat down next to her, and she felt her lips twitch: the Director of SHIELD and a secret agent/spy though he was, the man was still over sixty years old. It was still going to pain him to get back up.

As soon as the smile came, however, it was gone.

She still remembered the time they'd spent together, the godfather/goddaughter relationship they'd had, but he didn't. Couldn't.

Would never.

"I didn't see the need to," she said. "My showing up at the Tower isn't going to make him any less dead."

"Bullshit." At her cough of disbelief, he glared at her. "You're Spider-Woman, and you're Mary Parker's daughter. As far as you're concerned, everything is your responsibility. You felt the need to show up, but you didn't. Why?"

"Coulson was always better at this stuff," she replied, snorting. "You used to make him talk to me when you couldn't do it yourself 'cause of how emotionally constipated you are. Hill was pretty decent – "

He didn't take the bait. "A fascinating story for another time, I'm sure," he quipped dryly. "But not the question I was asking."

Penny sighed. Hooking her fingers underneath her mask, she took it off and set it down on the rocks next to her. She ran a hand through her hair, making the curls bounce. There was no point in hiding her identity from Fury. He already thought he knew it.

"Contrary to what you might think, you don't actually have to know everything."

"I never claimed to," he grunted. "Spill, Spider-Woman."

Getting to her feet, she walked a short distance away from him. "What do you think it is, Fury? Surely you must have a guess."

There was silence, and the extent of it was so long that she almost hoped –

"You know Stark."

Surprised laughter bubbled forth from her. "Seriously? That's the best you've got? No, I don't know him outside of the battle. Didn't. He's dead."

"You were rather distraught when he flew that missile through the wormhole."

"So, what?"

"So, if you don't know him, then the only reason why I figure you would be so hung up on him is because of what he means to you," reasoned Fury. "He's your scent match, isn't he? Barton, Romanoff, and Rogers probably are, too."

She froze.

The second time Penny had met Fury (the first being her parents' funeral, but she'd been so young then, it didn't really count) was when she'd been Spider-Woman for almost six months. That meeting, ironically enough, had been somewhat similar to their first one after November: he'd forced her into a McDonald's, sat her down, bought her a bunch of food, then proceeded to tell her things about herself she'd never wanted anyone else to know along with his role in her life.

This time felt a lot like then.

"Are you going to tell them?"

"Not my place to," he gruffed. "You're their mate. Besides, I don't think Stark can handle the distraction right now."

"Stark's dead."

"Reports of his death have been...greatly exaggerated."

Fury's eye glinted in the moonlight.

It was the only reason why she knew he wasn't lying.

The emotion that swelled within her was hard to place. It wasn't relief, or happiness, or anger...maybe some amalgamation between the three. Whatever it was, it filled her insides up and made her legs feel like jelly. "He's alive," she said, testing how the phrase sounded in her mouth.

"Yes. Which you would've known, had you decided to show up at the Tower today." In the night, his grimly amused show of teeth was unmistakable. "Stark's in Tennessee, currently. We believe he's staying at the residence of one Evelyn Keener and her ten-year-old daughter, Abigail Keener."

Her eyebrows knitted together. "What's he doing there?"

"Don't know, don't care. He's alive." Fury stood up. Again, he came over to her, but leaving enough distance so as not to seem threatening. Not that he was somebody who could appear threatening to her. Easily, that is. "Why are you avoiding him, Rogers, Barton, and Romanoff?"

"You just said why," she retorted.

He scowled. "No, I said a statement of fact. An even more accurate statement would be that you have been avoiding them for seven months, but it still does not answer the question of why. Most people would accept them with open arms."

She snorted at the thought. Most people.

Since when had she ever been one of those?

Penny looked away from him and out at the bay. She didn't have to answer him. She'd walked away from him before without telling him anything, although it had never made him pleased and a disgruntled Fury was even worse than his usual self.

But, he was her godfather.

Perhaps he deserved some semblance of the truth.

"After," she began, only to falter. What point was there in telling him "after Harry died?" He wouldn't remember it. She doubted he would remember meeting Harry at all, or the shovel talk he'd given him when he'd found out they were dating. "After everything happened, you told me 'don't lose your head.' I think you thought I was going to kill myself."

"From where I'm at, I can't say you didn't," he told her darkly. "You might be alive, but nobody remembers you."

"I know." She swallowed. "But that's the beauty of it, I think. You think you know me, Fury, and you did. But the woman you knew is gone. She's dead. Nobody remembers her, as you said, and they never will. Which is exactly why I won't tell them about me. She was their mate, and I'm no longer her. I'm not."

Fury didn't look like he believed her. "Keep telling yourself that."

"I will, because it's the truth." Walking past him, she went over to where her mask was still resting on the ground and picked it up, putting it on. "Thank you for telling me Stark's still alive, Fury. I'm glad to know she is."

And she was. Now that the emotions within her had had some time to settle, she was happy that he hadn't died, ended up like Harry.

But it didn't change the fact that she was right. Because prior to the November before last, Fury would've stopped her as she tried to walk away. He would've said something about how "they weren't finished yet," and forced her to stay to talk it out more.

Now, however, he let her leave as she walked away.

Because just like the four alphas who she tried not to think about, she didn't mean anything to him at all. She wasn't his goddaughter, not anymore.

Two weeks later, when it was announced after the fiasco of Stark taking down Aldrich Killian – the man behind the fake Mandarin – and saving the President that he and Pepper Potts had separated, something inside her twisted with pleasure.

Penny tried to ignore it. She told herself that it didn't matter. It was as she'd told Fury.

And even if it wasn't, she still didn't want another mate.

Word Count: 3,484

Next Chapter Title: keep yourself alive