B

by Lazydaily

Peter, Morgan, Harley post NWH. For TTS in the app

9. Chapter 9

Pepper stared expectantly at Natasha, her lips pursed.

The other woman had arrived at the house in record time after her text message, her bike roaring down the tree-lined path as Morgan clung to her waist. Pepper had sat on the porch, waiting for them, and she'd dropped a kiss on Morgan's cheek the minute they'd walked up to meet her, before she'd told her to go do her homework so the adults could talk. She and Natasha had gone into her office alone, though Natasha didn't seem keen on actually offering up any explanation as to what was going on, despite the message she'd sent promising to do just that.

"So." Pepper said, steepling her hands on her desk in front of her, assessing the former assassin with sharp blue eyes. "You said you were going to explain?" She asked. Natasha leaned against the wall of her office, arms crossed, her face expressionless.

"There's not much to explain." She said, raising a shoulder in a careless half-shrug. Pepper narrowed her eyes at her.

"Oh, really? Because I've already had three separate calls from Ross and his underlings demanding I get to the bottom of this." She sighed and unclasped her hands, spreading them on the desk before her. "What is going on, Nat?" She asked, her tone softening. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I thought we'd moved past the need to lie to each other." Natasha's face didn't twitch in the slightest, and Pepper wondered how long it had taken her to train her expressions into perfectly composed emptiness.

"Pepper." Nat said, finally, steadily. "I'm not hiding anything." Her tone was sure, and Pepper had to refrain from rolling her eyes. She knew that was bullshit. If it wasn't, Nat would have called her the minute she'd her run in with New York's most infamous vigilante. She was lying, of that much Pepper was certain.

"It certainly doesn't seem that way." Pepper disputed calmly, raising an eyebrow as she pulled up the article on her phone. She cleared her throat, placing her reading glasses on the end of her nose and starting to parrot the words on the screen, aloud. "If the former spy knows what is best for her, she will surely come forward with more information and turn him in to face the judgement he so rightly deserves.'" She quoted, looking back up at Natasha, her eyebrow still raised. Nat rolled her eyes and pushed off of her spot from the wall, stalking over to one of the chairs on the opposite of Pepper's desk and sinking down into it, crossing her legs and settling her hands on her knees, her gaze lifting to meet Pepper's head-on.

"It's just a stupid article." She argued, tone still neutral. "Jameson is a fucking moron. He doesn't know shit."

"If it's 'just a stupid article' why didn't you didn't tell me you'd run into Spider-Man yourself? Why am I finding out from The Daily Bugle of all things?" Pepper asked, sitting back in her chair, and crossing her arms over her chest. Natasha's expressionlessness broke then, and she rolled her sharp green eyes, annoyance flashing across her face.

"I didn't tell you because I knew it would turn into exactly what this is." She waved vaguely. "An interrogation." She sounded annoyed, even as she settled back in her own chair to mirror Pepper. "I knew everyone would flip shit if they saw I'd helped him." Natasha said, and Pepper shook her head, her brow furrowing.

"So…you're not dating him?" She asked dubiously, and Natasha scoffed.

"Hardly." She jerked her chin towards Pepper's phone, narrowing her eyes at the damning article still displayed on the desk between them. "Never even saw his face." She shrugged again, both shoulders rising in tandem despite her cross-armed, deflective stance. "Look, the kid was in some trouble—"

"—the kid?" Pepper interrupted her tone rising as she sat up straighter, leaning in closer across the desk. "Just how old is he, Natasha?" She asked. Nat sighed.

"I don't know, Pepper." She bit back. "He sounded like a kid, though."

"Tony wouldn't have recruited a kid." Pepper said, frowning doubtfully. There was no way. Tony had been an idiot sometimes, but surely he wouldn't have recruited a child to help him fight super soldiers in Germany. Besides, she'd seen the footage taken from the CCTV cameras at the airport, once everything had been said and done. Spider-Man had off the charts levels of strength. The footage alone had made her categorize him as a class nine, on par with the likes of Steve and Thor. He had quite literally held a plane that had been dropped on him up with his bare hands and had taken on Bucky and Sam single-handedly within the span of a few minutes. There was no way he was a kid. Tony wouldn't have been stupid enough to recruit a kid to help him with his fight…right?

"You knew him better than I did." Natasha said, her tone losing the sharp-edged bite it had initially held. "Besides, it was a slip of the tongue. I'm sure he's an adult. A young adult, but an adult nonetheless." Pepper relaxed a bit at Natasha's dismissive assurances, but the gears were still turning in her head as she tried to process the idea that Tony had possibly recruited a child to be a part of the Avengers and never told her.

"Fine." She conceded, relaxing back into her seat despite the small worm of doubt that wriggled in the back of her mind. She had never understood why Tony hadn't kept any information on Spider-Man. She'd dug through every meticulous file he'd kept, filled the brim with information on all of the Avengers and people of interest for the team. He'd had plans laid out for the original Avenger's headquarters, the same tower that had been sold to Reed Richards a few years before their encounter with Thanos and after Steve had chosen to protect Bucky.

Everyone had had a file, filled with classifications on their skills and abilities, and it was the same system she'd used to classify Spider-Man when he'd shown back up on her radar and Ross had pushed for him to be found and brought in for his reckoning against The Accords. But Spider-Man's file had been almost entirely redacted, and even FRIDAY had been unable to access the information that was blacked out. She'd claimed it didn't even exist on her servers, and that no one knew Spider-Man's true identity, not even Tony. Pepper had been dubious, at the time, though she had eventually learned to live with it. Tony hadn't kept a lot from her, and for the life of her, she couldn't imagine why he would want to keep Spider-Man's identity a secret, unless the vigilante had some sort of information on him that he was holding over his head. But over the years, she'd learned to live with that fact. It wasn't like Tony was around to explain himself, anymore anyways.

But something about Natasha calling him a kid set off warning bells in her head that she couldn't explain.

She pushed the thoughts down and cleared her throat. "Walk me through what happened. Ross wants an explanation, and he wants it yesterday. You know I have higher people to answer to, Nat. As much as I wish I didn't have to." Her tone was pleading, and Natasha's entire body softened as she took the sight of her in.

"Pepper," she said softly, earnestly, "if I knew who was under the mask, I would have told you by now." Her green eyes held an honesty to them that was almost hard to look at, especially since Pepper knew, deep down, that the other woman was lying to her face.

"So, what, you helped save his life? What from?" Pepper pressed, unsatisfied with the lack of any real answers.

"Some mad scientist. I don't know. She had these tentacle-arm things." Natasha said, keeping her tone even. Pepper frowned again. "Dropped the kid in the East River. Guess not all spiders know how to swim."

Pepper stared at her doubtfully. "Then what happened?" She asked.

"I tried to figure out where he was going. He wasn't much help in that department, practically fought me every step of the way." Natasha said wryly. "I don't know who took the photo, but they caught us at the wrong time. It's worse than it looks. He got away from me right after that."

"How exactly did he 'get away' from you, Nat? If he was dropped in the East River in the middle of the night, in January how the hell did he get away? Surely he was freezing his ass off." Natasha's eyes were unreadable under Pepper's line of questioning. "Pardon me, but I'm finding it a little difficult to believe anyone could escape you without a fight. Especially while incapacitated." Her tone was icy, but Natasha just shrugged again.

"He's got these...web-shooters or something." She said by way of explanation. "I mean, what do you want me to say, Pep? He's fast. Faster than me. Even while freezing, apparently." Pepper sat up in her cushioned seat and snatched her phone off the desk, tugging her reading glasses off and staring at Natasha, hard. A silence stretched between them, and Pepper searched her face for any sign of a lie. But Natasha had been raised to be a spy, practically from the moment she was born. So despite the fact that Pepper didn't believe her, she couldn't find any hint of untruth in her face.

"I don't know what Spider-Man has on you, Nat," Pepper finally said, wearily, once the silence had gone on for long enough, "but your explanation isn't good enough. Not for me, and certainly not for Ross. No one's going to believe he got away from you, super strength or not. Everyone knows you can hold your own, and if he was incapacitated, then I really don't buy it." Natasha's face remained stoic, but her jaw was tight when she stood up.

"Then tell Ross to call me himself." She said sharply, her green eyes flashing. "If he wants answers, then he needs to stop hiding behind his minions and guards and ask me, himself." Her words were soft but poisonous and Pepper squared her shoulders as she looked up at the former assassin.

"I will tell him you said so." Pepper said, finally. She was bristling at the insinuation that she was one of Ross's 'minions' and the fact that Natasha was clearly lying to her. They'd danced this dance before, and Pepper was no fool. She stared at her, waiting for her to break, to give in and tell the truth, but Natasha did no such thing. Pepper shook her head, frustrated and unable to stop the words that came out of her mouth next. "In the meantime, I don't want to see you around here with Morgan. I only want people I trust around my daughter." Natasha's face slipped for the briefest of seconds and Pepper almost relented and apologized for taking it so far. But Natasha quickly schooled her expression back into a cool indifference and she shrugged, despite the frown lines that pulled at the edges of her mouth.

"Fine." She said, simply. "Whatever you want, Mrs. Stark." Her words were biting and she didn't wait for a response, instead turning heel and stalking back towards the office door and yanking it open. She tossed one last glance over her shoulder, giving Pepper a long, unyielding look and Pepper suddenly wished she had the ability to read other people's minds. Maybe then, she and the woman who had become her best friend over the past three years wouldn't be in this situation.

She met Natasha's gaze, head-on, but didn't allow herself to waver in the slightest. Natasha shook her head and swiftly exited the doorframe, her shoulders squared, and her head held high. She let the door slam shut behind her, her anger leaving a wake that seemed to ripple through the room, long after the door was fully closed.

Pepper dropped her head into her hands and finally let the tears that had flooded her eyes fall.

She and Natasha had had a tenuous relationship for years, but after Tony's death, she'd been one of the only real constants in her life. She couldn't even count the number of times the other woman had walked in on her sobbing her eyes out while Morgan was at school, when everything just got so heavy she could hardly seem to stand it. The weight of raising Morgan alone, the responsibility of maintaining the legacy Tony had left her and their daughter, dealing with Ross and championing the Accords, all of it had been too much, too fast. Natasha hadn't judged her, at all. She'd just let her cry, quietly encircling her in her arms until Pepper had cried all the tears she thought she had in her. Natasha had always made a point to make her a kettle of tea, quietly slipping a blanket over her shoulder and turning on some stupid rom com that would make Pepper's stomach hurt from laughing so hard, her tears forgotten by the time the credits were rolling.

It had been exactly what she'd needed. The other woman never pushed or pressed, simply taking care of Pepper until she felt comfortable enough to begin opening up to her and sharing the things that had been weighing so heavily at her. Outside of Rhodey and Happy, Natasha had been the only person who knew exactly how badly Tony's death had affected Pepper. She tried to keep that part of herself—all those writhing, uncontrollable emotions brought on by grief—concealed from Morgan, wanting to be strong for her daughter, and Natasha had been one of the few people who understood. She'd been an anchor for Pepper, an emotional checkpoint that allowed her to get everything out into the open when Morgan wasn't home to witness a meltdown.

Pepper hadn't even realized how close they'd become until that exact moment. She'd know, as soon as she'd said it, that keeping Nat from Morgan would be a slap in the face. It was her way of telling Natasha, in no uncertain terms, that she'd broken her trust.

She'd known it would dig deep.

And she'd done it anyway.

She wiped roughly at her eyes, angry with herself for being so upset at their fight. Natasha had lied to her; straight to her face, and without remorse. Pepper knew she was lying, and she'd called her on it, but Natasha hadn't budged in the slightest. And it wasn't like it was some little lie, either. Clearly there was something deeper going on, and it was setting off those same familiar warning bells in her head. Something was wrong, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it, with or without Natasha's help.

"Mom?" Morgan's voice was as hesitant as the knock that followed on her office door. The sound of it met Pepper's ears, and she wiped quickly at her nose, not wanting her daughter to see she'd been crying. She sat up straighter, and ran her fingers under her eyes, hoping her mascara hadn't smeared.

"Come in, honey." She called. The door squeaked open and Morgan's large brown eyes peered around the crack she'd created.

"Are you okay?" She asked, quietly. Pepper nodded, smiling as wide as she could manage.

"Of course, sweetie." Morgan pushed the door open wider and stepped hesitantly in the room.

"Are you sure? You look like you've been crying." Pepper's smile slipped, but she caught herself. Leave it to Morgan to call it like she saw it. She'd always taken after her dad in that aspect. She shook her head and gestured for Morgan to come closer. The girl did, creeping across the carpeted floors closer to her and eyeing Pepper carefully, her brown irises reflecting worry. "Is everything okay with Aunt Nat?" She asked softly, and Pepper shook her head again.

"We're not going to be seeing Aunt Nat for a bit." She said firmly. Morgan's expression twisted and she took a faltering step back and away from Pepper.

"What?" She asked. "Why not?" Her voice was steadily rising with every word that came out of her mouth, her little face turning white. "Is Aunt Yelly okay?" She asked, worry creeping into her voice.

"Yelena is fine." Pepper assured her, trying to assuage her fears. "Everyone's okay. Aunt Nat and I…" She took a steadying breath, resolving herself to the decision she'd made. "We just had a disagreement and we're not on good terms right now." Morgan's expression turned confused. "She's not going to be coming to the house or Stark Industries for a while until we've worked it out." Morgan made another face.

"But she's still going to pick me up from school on Friday, right?" She asked, all of the child-like hope clear in her voice. Pepper shook her head, praying she wouldn't crush her spirit.

"No, sweetie. Someone else will pick you while I have my meeting with Peter." Pepper said. Morgan shook her head back and forth.

"No!" She argued, growing defiant. Pepper sighed deeply.

"Yes, Morgan. I'm sorry, but like I said, Natasha isn't going to be around for a while." She tried to explain while still keeping her voice calm.

"No!" Morgan repeated, glowering up at her. "That's not fair!" Her voice was a hiss and Pepper rubbed at her temples, not really wanting to deal with the temper-tantrum that was sure to follow. Morgan was practically vibrating with anger, her emotions palpable in the still air of her office.

"Morgan." Pepper said sharply, her voice holding a warning. "I don't want to hear it right now."

"God, you always do this!" Morgan snapped, rapidly turning around and grabbing the handle of the door, her face going red. "You always push people away! Aunt Nat is always trying to help us and now you've run her off, too!" Pepper took a deep breath, bracing herself for the flurry of words that were escaping her child, the venomous tone directed solely at her. "You did it with Dad, you did it with me, and now you're doing it with Aunt Nat! You are unbelievable!" Her voice had risen to a hysterical point, and Pepper slammed her hand on the desk, causing Morgan to cut her rant off, though anger still burned in her dark brown eyes and tears threatened to fall as her lip wobbled. Pepper tried not to let her daughter's harsh words affect her, but they stung more than she cared to admit.

"Morgan, you will not talk to Natasha until I tell you that you can. This is not an argument, or something to be disputed. I will send someone else to pick you up on Friday, and that's final." She couldn't keep the sharpness out of her tone, irritation rising in her as she stared the nine-year-old girl down.

"You're going to be alone forever." Morgan bit back, her cheeks still flushed red with anger. "And it's going to be your own fault." Then, she was turning and storming out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her, just as it had when Natasha had left.

Pepper blew out a breath and shook her head as soon as she was gone. She flopped back in her chair, throwing her head back and rubbing her hands over her eyes. This was not how she'd wanted her day to go at all. Now Morgan was furious with her, she and Natasha wouldn't be speaking for God only knew how long, and she still wasn't any closer to having an answer for Ross about Spider-Man. She groaned and dropped her head into her hands, her mind a swirling storm of unrelenting problems.

The ring of her phone startled her out of her thoughts, and she lifted her head to glance towards the device. An unknown number was displayed on the screen, and she frowned, grabbing it off the desk. She accepted the call and lifted the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" She asked, attempting to keep the emotion from the fights she'd had out of her voice.

"Hello, this is Matt Murdock calling for Pepper Stark. Mr. Barnes gave me this number." Pepper blew out a breath, glancing towards the firmly closed door of her office. She cleared her throat and pressed the phone tighter to her ear. Now we're getting somewhere, she thought. The call had come a lot sooner than expected, but she wasn't going to complain. If Natasha wouldn't give her the answers she needed, maybe Bucky's contact would.

"Hello, Mr. Murdock." She greeted, hoping she sounded pleasant. This was possibly the worst possible time he could have called her, but she wasn't about to squander the opportunity to get to the bottom of the rift that had suddenly opened between her and Natasha. "This is she. Thank you for reaching out." She could hear him pacing on the other end of the line and she closed her eyes, leaning deeper into the cushioned backing of her chair and running a hand raggedly through her messy red hair.

"Happy to." Matt said. "I just wanted to let you know Barnes called me and asked me to look into that person of interest you asked about." Pepper nodded, eyes still closed, then realized he couldn't see her.

"Yeah—yes, that's correct."

"Well, Mrs. Stark, I would love to help, but we need to set some ground rules first." Matt continued briskly, undeterred by her hesitance. Pepper swallowed and sat back up.

"Okay." She agreed, schooling herself to attention for business talks. "I'm all ears." Matt chuckled on the other end of the line, but his tone was serious when he spoke again, booking no room for argument.

"Number one, this cannot become public knowledge. If I'm going to help you find Spider-Man, my identity must remain secret. No one can know that I'm helping you. As I'm sure Bucky explained, I have no desire to register for the Accords. Too much at stake for myself and my loved ones. Can you agree to that?" His voice was kind, explanatory and steady, and Pepper found herself nodding in agreement.

"I understand." She said. Ross was going to throw a bitch fit at her for agreeing to his terms, but she found she didn't really care in that moment. He could get answers about Spider-Man or force every unregistered individual to sign up for the accords but he couldn't have both at the moment.

"Good." Matt said, agreeably. "I'll have Karen fax you the non-disclosure agreement. Number two, we need to discuss payment." Pepper nodded again and cleared her throat. She had been expecting to pay some form of payment anyway, regardless of James' connections. The world did revolve around money, as much as she wished it didn't sometimes.

"Name your price." She said, decidedly. She could hear the smile in Matt's voice when he responded.

"I'm not looking for anything monetary." He assured her and Pepper felt surprise rise in her.

"Oh?" She asked. Matt laughed softly.

"This might be a bit difficult, and I understand if you'll disagree completely. Unfortunately, I won't be able to take your case if you don't accept the terms I've got for you." Pepper bit her lip, waiting for the request. Who the fuck was this guy and why did Bucky trust him enough to have him be the one to find Spider-Man? She wondered, dimly. She had no clue what Matt was about to request, but she wasn't really in a position to say no. Besides, James had promised that Murdock knew what he was doing, and she was certain he and his friends were the only ones who'd be able to find Spider-Man. She needed answers on what Natasha had really been up to with the vigilante, and she wasn't willing to let her family or her late husband's name suffer for it.

"Just ask, Mr. Murdock." She said wearily, rubbing at her temple with her free hand.

"I need you to renounce The Accords all together."

Morgan fled her mom's office, tears of frustration streaming down her face. She made a beeline for the kitchen, her throat dry and her sock-covered feet slipping on the hardwood floors. She yanked at the door of the fridge, tugging it open angrily and swiping the orange juice out of its cold confines. She set it on the counter behind her, then pulled herself up to her knees on the top of the granite countertop, grabbing a glass down from the cabinet before dropping back to her feet on the hardwood floors. She turned and jumped when she saw her Aunt sitting in one of the barstools behind her.

Natasha stood when her eyes landed on her, rounding the counter to grab the orange juice from the spot she'd left it. She took the glass from Morgan and titled the container, pouring the the liquid in the cup and handed it back to her. Morgan took it meekly, all of her anger flooding out of her at the sight of her Aunt. Natasha stared down at her, her red eyebrows threaded together in concern, and her full lips downturned in a frown. "Your mom is pissed with me." She said simply, folding her arms over her chest as she stared at her. Morgan took a long sip of the orange juice, swiping harshly at her mouth with the back of her arm when she was done.

"She's not too happy with me, either." Morgan said, mouth twisting. She lifted her glass again and took another sip of the juice. "What are we going to do?" She asked when she was done, looking back up at Nat imploringly. The other woman sighed and shook her head.

"Doesn't that depend entirely on you, Mongoose?" She asked, tilting her head and grabbing Morgan's glass out of her hand to take a sip of her own. "You're the one who orchestrated all of this." She continued. "And now your mom thinks I'm a liar," her eyes darkened, and her frown deepened, "which, I guess, I am, now." She sighed, shaking her head, her red, perfectly curled hair jumping with the movement. "I don't like lying to your mother, Morgan. I haven't had to do that for a long time." Morgan nodded slowly, watching her closely.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Nat." She said, quietly. Natasha sighed and reached out, grabbing her small hand in her own.

"If you're really sorry, you'll come clean to your mom and help me clear up this whole mess." Morgan slumped against the bar, resting her head on the cool granite countertop. "I haven't had a fight with her like that since your dad was still around." Natasha murmured.

"Aunt Nat, I can't." Morgan said, aware of how miserable she sounded. Natasha sighed again and withdrew her hand. Morgan wanted to grab it in her own again and squeeze, to hold tightly to one of the few adults who knew exactly what sort of predicament she was in. But she let Nat pull away from her, clutching tightly to the glass she held instead.

"Morgan, sweetie," Nat started to say, hesitantly. "I know how hard this has all been for you. I just want you to know, I think you're wrong. Your mom will believe you, if you just talk to her and explain everything." Her voice was gentle, and Morgan looked up at her, swallowing hard.

"She's been different, ever since Dad died." She said, quietly. "She shuts herself off from everyone, me included." She knew she sounded bitter, but she couldn't help it. "Did you know she forgot my birthday last year?" She asked, and Natasha's green eyes were sad as they met her's.

"I'm sure she didn't mean to." She said, reaching out to tuck a strand of Morgan's hair behind her ear. Morgan resisted the urge to lean into it, choosing to stand alone and defiant as she always had. "She's had a lot on her mind lately. And you," she said, booping Morgan's nose lightly, "keeping secrets from her isn't helping." Morgan shook her head firmly in disagreement.

"I know she didn't mean to, but Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy were the ones to remind her. She didn't even remember by herself. I mean, she doesn't even know that I know; I overheard them talking to her in her office." Natasha frowned again at the words falling out of Morgan's mouth, but she barreled on before the woman could interrupt. "I know I could tell her who Peter really is, but she'd think I'm crazy. She's always looking for any excuse to get rid of me. Kate Willard today, college tomorrow." She said bitterly, her throat swelling with unshed tears. Natasha shook her head in disagreement, opening her mouth to argue, but Morgan didn't let her get a word in edgewise. "I tried to tell her about him, three years ago when all this started. She didn't believe me. No one believed me. And I know Peter doesn't want to be found, for some reason. He won't tell me why, but he's worried about putting me in danger." She scoffed. "As if being the daughter of a billionaire isn't putting me in danger to begin with." Natasha's eyes narrowed at her.

"Morgan," she said, slowly, "what do you mean he 'won't tell' you why? Have you been talking to him?" Morgan bit her lip at the question, freezing under Natasha's heavy stare.

"Um, sort of?" She said, offering a weak smile.

Natasha lifted her face toward the ceiling and seemed to be muttering something to herself. "Lord help me." She said, finally. She looked back down at Morgan, who waited anxiously for her to speak. "Morgan, you're in too deep. Please, please, please give me a good reason not to turn around and march back into your mother's office and tell her everything." Morgan swallowed, hard, and squared her shoulders.

"You promised you wouldn't." She said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Yeah, kid, but that was before your mom effectively kicked me out of your house and banned me from talking to you." Natasha said dryly. "And before you told me you were talking to strangers."

"He's not a stranger." Morgan said, indignantly. "And you told me you don't break promises." Natasha rolled her eyes and blew out a breath.

"Well I also promised your mom I wouldn't lie to her again and look where we're at now." She said sourly. "I need something better than me breaking my promise to you." She gave Morgan a hard, meaningful look and the young girl swallowed nervously. They were both quiet for a minute, only the sound of their quiet breathing filling the space between them as they stared off.

"Peter will run." Morgan said, finally. "I know he will. He could have reached out to us at any time, to convince us who he is, but something happened and because of it, he hasn't. He's been alone for three years, Aunt Nat. All by himself. We can't force him to reveal who he is, not really." She shrugged her shoulders. "He'll just leave. He has to realize he wants to be a part of our family again, and I'm doing everything to remind him of what he's missing out on. I got Mom to take him out for an interview for a position at Stark Industries on Friday. I told her to take him to the coffee shop I took you to." Natasha raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of the explanation. Morgan took a deep breath and kept speaking. "She doesn't know, but the girl that served us, Michelle?" Natasha nodded hesitantly at the reminder, gesturing for her to continue. "She was his girlfriend, before everything happened. I just want Peter to know that there are people in his life that he left behind. If I can get him to realize that, and if I bring everyone he loves back into his life, then we actually have a chance at convincing Mom that we're telling the truth because he'll be willing to reveal himself. But if we try to force him into it, it'll never happen. I know him. He has to want this as much as I do." She said quietly. "I just want him to feel loved again. I want him to want to be my big brother." Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, trying to make them go away but she only succeeded in making them fall, wet lines streaking down her face in rivulets.

Natasha let out another quiet sigh, her face sympathetic. She reached out and wiped gently at the tears sliding down Morgan's cheeks. "Okay, Mongoose." She agreed, softly. "Okay. Fine. We'll keep doing it your way, because I can tell how much this means to you. But I'm warning you now, if you are put in any danger I'm pulling the plug, immediately." She warned. Morgan stared up at her, surprised her speech had worked. She'd been completely honest and meant every word, but she hadn't expected Natasha to agree. She'd always been practical. She didn't let her emotions lead her, so Morgan hadn't been sure she'd be able to convince her to continue following the plan she'd laid out.

"Promise?" She whispered. Natasha pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top her head, and Morgan knew something had softened the older woman, though she wasn't sure if it was just her heartfelt speech that had done it.

"I promise." Natasha said. She pulled back, settling her hands on Morgan's shoulders. "Now, I gotta go before your mom comes down here and sees me. She was pretty clear on the fact that she doesn't want me talking to you right now. So don't text me or anything for a while. I'll come get you, or send someone to get you if I need to talk to you, okay?" Morgan nodded, warmth flooding her chest despite the knowledge that she wasn't going to be seeing her for god only knew how long. "Your mom is going to kill me." Natasha murmured, shaking her head, though she couldn't hide the fond little smile that found its way across her lips. "But we're going to fix this, together." Morgan nodded and Natasha stepped away from her. "Love you, Mongoose." She said, winking. Morgan tried to wink back, but having yet to master the movement, only managed to blink. Natasha's lips curled a bit more, and she ruffled her hair.

"Love you too, Aunt Nat. Talk soon?" Morgan asked, hopefully.

"You can't get rid of me, kid."

If there was one thing Michelle Jones hated, it was liars.

Most of the time.

There was one liar she was unconditionally fond of, and it puzzled her.

Morgan Stark had been coming to Peter Pan Donuts and Bakery for almost two years, now. MJ remembered their first meeting as if it had happened yesterday. And with the way time seemed to be flying, it could have been.

Everything seemed to have a strange warp to it, ever since she'd gone to college. After her dad passed away, she'd had to make a lot of changes. His house was too big with just her in it, but he'd bought it and payed it off years ago and had left it in his will for her. She'd ended up turning it into a women's shelter, partnering with a nearby shelter that was often too full. She'd offered up the spare rooms—three of them to be exact—that allowed for her to welcome displaced women when they were down on their luck. The shelter carefully vetted all of the applicants, and usually had a plan in place to help the survivor get back on her feet within a timely fashion.

She didn't make any real money off of it, which didn't help with her seemingly never-ending pile of bills, but she was happy to open her home to other women in need. Her dad may have left her the home, but they'd never had the best relationship. He'd never tried to get to really know her, once her mom had left them. MJ had only been nine, at the time, but she'd seen the way her father had distanced himself after her departure. He still loved MJ—that much had been obvious—but he'd been exceptionally bad at showing it. Even after she moved back home to take care of him and continue going to school, there had been an odd distance between them. They hadn't gotten closer while she took care of him, but her life had had gained some sort of semblance, once she'd left Boston and returned home. She could just focus on what she needed to do. It gave her a sense of purpose, and between going to school, working, and caring for him, she couldn't give much thought to anything else.

So, when he'd died, and that same feeling of her world being turned upside down returned, she hadn't been sure what to do. Peter Parker and his sad brown eyes had returned to her thoughts, tenfold. She tried to focus on school and work, but most days she couldn't help but dwell on the conversation she'd had with Ned after the Peter boy had left the coffeeshop.

"Well." Ned had said, looking towards her with his eyebrow raised. "That was weird, right?" His gaze remained trained on the window, looking for their awkward visitor despite the fact that he had already disappeared into the crowds of the busy New York streets.

"Yeah." MJ said quietly, still thinking about the way he'd stared at her as if he'd known her. "Weird." She'd repeated.

Ned had tried to look him up, the boy in the dark blue coat with the sad brown eyes and the crumpled piece of paper. "I think that was a love letter, M." He'd teased, scrolling through Instagram's search bar for anyone unlucky enough to make their username anything close to 'Peter Parker.' "Buuuuut, it looks like he's a ghost on social media," he'd continued with a shrug, "probably not worth your time. Peter Parker, it seems, doesn't exist."

"He didn't seem…familiar to you?" She remembered asking him, still thinking about that weird, tugging sensation of knowledge she had felt while talking to him. Ned had raised an eyebrow at her while taking a sip of his coffee. He shrugged and tapped the counter between them.

"I dunno, M. Maybe he went to school with us?" She remembered she'd scoffed at that, too, and rolled her eyes before returning to wiping the counter down so her boss wouldn't come out and yell at her to do something.

"Oh, come off it, Ned." She muttered. "You act like I don't know what every student in our grade looks like." She'd sniped back and he'd rolled his eyes in return.

"Yeah, well, the rest of us aren't creepy stalkers who make portraits of every classmate they meet." He teased. "It's weird, M." She'd thrown her dishtowel at him for that, and he'd laughed and caught it before casually wiping down the rest of the counter for her. She knew he thought that she didn't notice the tightness at the corner of his lips, tugging his normally easy smile into a frown as he'd stared down at the old countertop beneath his hands.

But she had seen it, so she pushed.

"You're sure he doesn't seem familiar?" She finally ventured to ask thirty minutes later, when the store had emptied out from the mid-afternoon rush again. Ned had sighed and set his phone down to clasp his hands together, his face serious.

"What's this about really, MJ?" He'd asked, suddenly seeming world-weary and tired in a way she'd never seen him before. She sighed and rounded the corner of the bar to sit beside him on the stools, tucking her hands into her apron and blowing a strand of her loose hair out of her face.

"Haven't you just felt…weird? Since the—"

"—the Statue of Liberty?" He'd interrupted his mouth twisting. "Yeah. But I thought it was just me." He shrugged but wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Why does it feel like something is missing?" She found herself whispering the question, and Ned had glanced at her, his gaze sharp.

"We're not missing anything M." He'd said, softly, determination suddenly solidifying in his features.

"Then why can't I remember why we were there in the first place?" Her breathing had come hot and fast at that point, the words flowing out of her faster than she could think to stop them. "Why do I feel like everything is just slightly out of sync? What were we doing there, Ned?" He'd stood up and tugged his coat on, shaking his head.

"I dunno, M. Helping Spider-Man, I guess." He said. "You know the news said it was his fault."

"Yeah, I know, but why?" She pressed, reaching across the counter to tug on the sleeve of his coat. "Why would we be helping Spider-Man? And why can't we remember how we got there?" She asked, trying to figure it all out. She hadn't been lying when she'd said everything felt off. She remembered coming to her senses as dawn had risen over the horizon of the New York skyline, and her confusion as to why she was in the ruins of what had priorly been the renovations on the Statue of Liberty. The wizard with the stupid red cape had opened a portal for them to get home, seemingly just as confused as to why he'd been there as they were, and MJ had been left with more question than answers.

Ned pulled his sleeve out of her grip and gave her a long look. "Look, M. I don't want to think about it too much, okay? We go to college in a few months, and I really need to focus on that. My mom was already pissed that I was gone that whole night and it's a miracle that she even lets me out of the house these days." He shook his head, his mouth tilting into a frown again. "I think it's just one of those things we're never going to get answers to."

MJ had nodded and let it go in the moment, not wanting to argue, but that little feeling of familiarity had stuck with her. How was she just supposed to 'let it go'? Ned had made it sound so easy, and he hadn't brought that night up since their conversation in the coffee shop. But it hadn't been that easy for her.

Because she was absolutely certain that she was missing something.

She'd known it since she'd first stepped through that sparking portal and into her kitchen, that quiet November morning with the feeling that everything was just…off. It was like her center of gravity was suddenly different, out of nowhere. No one else seemed to understand what she was talking about, but she knew, deep in her gut, that something had changed. She didn't know what exactly it was that was so strange.

But she knew Peter Parker was somehow involved.

He'd shown up with that crumpled piece of paper and the saddest brown eyes she'd ever seen, with all the energy of a kicked puppy. And something had stirred in her gut the minute he'd eagerly introduced himself, first and last name. Peter Parker. He'd wanted to tell her something, that much had been clear, but he'd been distracted by the scratch on her forehead—the same one she had no recollection of getting. It had turned into a scar, one that she still had almost three years later, and every time she saw it in the mirror, she couldn't help but think about him and the way something seemed to break in him at the sight of it.

She tried to get him out of her head by throwing herself into her admission for MIT. She'd met him once for Christ's sake, and she couldn't figure out why he constantly seemed to be running through her thoughts. And college had been rough, that first year in Boston. She always felt…distracted. She couldn't help but think back to that night at the Statue of Liberty. It distracted her so much, it had almost been a relief when her dad had called her and told her about his cancer diagnosis. It had been the excuse she needed to transfer schools and come back home, and while she'd felt guilty using it as her reason to go back to New York, she had been missing it more than she realized, the entire time she'd been gone. There was a lot of unfinished business she had there, and she was glad to be back—despite the circumstances that had led to her return.

She didn't bring that night up to Ned again because he'd made it very clear he didn't want to dwell on it. He had, of course, been supportive of her decision to return to New York, and they still kept in contact, even though their lives had gone in wildly different directions after that first year in Boston. Ned had decided to pursue a career in journalism and MJ had chosen a career in social work once she'd transferred to NYU. She didn't tell anyone it was because she wanted to see if she could use the system to find Peter Parker, knowing that he was somehow the key to all the unanswered questions she had.

She'd decided to use the house her dad had left her to help with her degree, and FEAST had been ecstatic to work with her when she'd approached them. She had managed to get her foot in the door and she had no plans of backing down on her search for answers.

FEAST had been quick to assign people to her home, with her first new housemate being a woman named Marnie Leigh.

And in the year and a half since Marnie had moved into the big, empty house with her, she'd become somewhat of a mother figure to MJ. She'd been very closed off at first, clearly nervous of the rules FEAST had put in place for MJ's protection once they'd agreed to work with her. But that first day of the first week Marnie had moved in, when MJ came home from her classes and while she was getting dressed for work rushing down from the second floor to head out for the shift she'd been running late for, Marnie had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She'd held a plate of freshly baked cookies, still warm from the oven in her hands.

"I hope you like lemon. It's my grandmother's recipe. To say thanks, for all your help." She'd offered them meekly, and MJ had picked one up before taking a big bite. It had been the first thing she'd eaten that day, and they tasted what she imagined summers in Florida felt like. Warm, citrusy, with a hint of vanilla and a dusting of powdered sugar; they had been the first thing someone had made specifically with her in mind since her dad's passing.

After that, while other women began to move in and begin to piece their lives back into some semblance of normalcy, Marnie and MJ attempted to piece their own lives together, but with the help of each other.

Marnie had been the opposite of MJ in regards to her life before their living situation, but MJ had taken a lot longer to open up than the older woman had. However, when it became clear that Marnie wasn't going anywhere, and that all she really wanted was to both help and get to know MJ, the younger girl began to let her walls fall down around her new roommate.

She told her how her dad had been diagnosed with cancer, during her freshman year of college at MIT. She told her that she'd insisted on coming home, despite her father's protests, admitting that she actually had hated Boston, hated that she couldn't seem to settle into the new city, hated the career path she'd initially chosen, hated being so far away from home and everything she'd once known. She'd had Ned, of course, but at the time he'd been talking about taking a semester abroad, though he'd been worried about leaving her by herself since they'd roomed together. She'd felt guilty, using her father's illness as an excuse, especially since it had felt more like a relief than a burden, but Ned didn't question it, which had almost made it worse.

And once she'd officially returned to New York and begun to settle back down into the new routine of her life, Marnie had been the only person she told pretty much everything to, outside of Ned. But she had never told either of them about her guilt. Despite the secrets she kept, after a year and a half into their living arrangements, she and Marnie had gotten quite close.

The older woman was there for her whenever she needed her. She was a constant, solidifying presence that MJ had never really had up until that point. She'd told MJ she worked at a preparatory school for young girls, and they would pass the nights by talking about their respective classes at the end of the day. Marnie frequently helped MJ by reviewing her papers for her college courses, editing them to make sure she got the best possible score, and she had a love for cooking that tended to result in the house always being filled with the scent of a home cooked meal. MJ was endlessly grateful for Marnie's unexpected presence in her life and she couldn't help but view the woman as the mother she'd never really had.

MJ always looked forward to their evenings together, and after her day at work with Morgan Stark and Natasha Romanov's surprise appearances, she was looking forward to their nightly discussions more than usual. She made a racket as she climbed up the steps that lead to the porch of the house her father had left her in the suburbs of Queens, kicking at the front door that always seemed to stick and finally managing to shoulder it open without too much fuss. She let out a grunt of annoyance as she turned to hang up her keys but was distracted when Marnie poked her head around the kitchen entryway, a huge smile lighting up her face.

"MJ!" She called, wiping her hands on her sunshine-yellow apron, and rounding the corner to pull her into a hug. MJ's bag started to slip off her shoulder, but she ignored it and hugged Marnie back with her free arm.

"Hey, Mar. Whatever you're making smells amazing." Marnie's grin only grew as she pulled back from her, reaching to smooth out MJ's apron before tugging the stupid, store-mandated hat that was a part of her uniform off and hanging it on the hooks next to the other women's keys. She reached forward and tucked a strand of MJ's long, loose hair behind her ear, cupping her face. "You text me you were taking a sick day though, and I told you I was bringing soup!" MJ scolded, reaching into her bag, and pulling out a plastic container of chicken noodle soup she'd grabbed on her way home. Marnie grinned and rolled her eyes affectionately, taking the soup and going to store it in the fridge.

"Well, in the spirit of honesty, I definitely am not sick, I just needed a day off to get some stuff worked out with the divorce. We have a new aide, super smart kid from what I've seen, and they asked him to cover." Marnie said, winking at her. MJ sighed and tilted her head, disregarding the second half of her statement, but making a note to circle back to it later.

"Is that stupid fucker still trying to get you to pay for the last month's rent?" She asked, frowning. "Hasn't he done enough? You've been here for almost two years. I swear if I ever meet him again, I'm taking a baseball bat to his stupid fucking Mercedes." She muttered, rolling her eyes. Marine laughed lightly and smiled the dazzlingly bright smile she always seemed to reserve for MJ.

"He's never been one to let things go." She said simply, shrugging as she made her back into the kitchen and heading towards the cutting board where an array of chopped vegetables lay perfectly sliced. "It's alright though." Marnie continued, picking up the cutting board and scraping the contents stacked on top into a pot that contained the contents of the delicious smell MJ had detected when she'd walked through the door. She skirted around Marnie to sneak a spoon out of the silverware drawer, dipping it in the broth, sampling the stew Marnie had clearly been working hard on. An explosion of rich flavor burst across her tongue, and she forced herself not to go back for a second dip even as her stomach growled in hunger. "My lawyer said he doesn't have a leg to stand on." Marnie said, leaning around MJ to kiss her cheek and snatch the spoon out of her hands. MJ grumbled quietly under her breath but didn't fight her and Marnie gestured for her to take a seat at the table. "The point is—" she said, stirring the stew with the wooden spoon that had been resting beside the pot on a rubber holder. She covered the pot with a lid and set the gas stove's flame to a medium heat and turned back towards MJ. "—there's nothing to worry about." She smiled again and MJ rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, you said that last time and then he showed up here with a gun and I had to call the cops." She said, wryly. Marnie's expression darkened briefly, and she rounded the island to sit down in the chair closest to MJ. She covered her hand in her own, her expression suddenly turning serious.

"That's why I got the restraining order." She said, a small, sad smile crossing her lips. MJ nodded and turned her hand over so their palms were flush against each others. She squeezed gently and Marnie's normal smile returned. "The stew needs to simmer for another twenty minutes, so you're going to have to wait on dinner. Arya and Lena are both working late tonight, but they asked me to save them a bowl. Arya told me her new job is going well and she thinks she'll be able to move out in a few months. You should probably call FEAST and see if they have any newcomers who need a room starting in April." MJ nodded and leaned forward in her seat to smush her face against the tablecloth.

"I'll call Eleanor tomorrow. She'll be happy there's a vacancy, I'm sure. Apparently, they had quite a few newcomers last week and she asked me about availability when she last called to check in on everyone." She said, closing her eyes. She was happy for Arya, one of their newer roommates, but she really didn't want to be thinking about having to move a new person in at that moment. Marnie's hand was suddenly in her hair, stroking gently through her wind-swept curls. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax into the gentle, motherly touch.

"Sounds good." Marnie said, the smile clear in her voice. MJ turned her head, cracking one eye open to look up at her and Marnie untangled her hand from her hair to poke her cheek lightly. "Now, tell me about work. Meet any new boys? Or girls?" She asked shrugging casually, her eyes twinkling as MJ laughed.

So, MJ started talking. She and Marnie hadn't seen each other the day before, what with MJ's night class after work, and since nothing of interest had happened on Tuesday, she told her about how Morgan had come back the day before, bringing along the Black Widow. She told her how they'd sat in the farthest booth from the door and how she'd eavesdropped on their conversation, listening to them quietly whisper to each other about finding someone—though she omitted the fact that she had a feeling she knew exactly who they were looking for.

Because MJ had already pieced together who exactly it was that Morgan Stark was trying to find. After all, it happened to be the exact same person she had been searching for the past three years herself.

She didn't tell Marnie that she had first met the prodigy of Tony Stark when the girl was just shy of eight years old.

She'd been sitting at the counter of the coffeeshop by herself, a pink parka coat clinging to her skinny frame. Beneath her hands had sat an olive-green notebook, spread open and covered in what appeared to be sketches of a boy. She was scribbling furiously on the piece of paper, her brow furrowed in concentration. MJ had glanced at Ned who was already looking at her with raised eyebrows. He'd been home on break from his year abroad and had made it a point to visit her every day that he wasn't consumed with the family lunches and dinners his mom had mandated.

'Is that Morgan Stark?' He'd mouthed, eyebrows suddenly drawing together as wonder lit his face. She shrugged helplessly, and he gestured for her to approach. She shook her head sharply in disagreement but he'd nodded even more enthusiastically in response. She'd let out a resigned sigh and walked towards the girl, pen and pad in hand.

"Hey, kid. You can't stay here if you're not going to buy anything." She pointed up towards the sign that hung behind her.

No loitering without a purchase.

No bathroom without a purchase.

The girl paused on shading in the shadows of her artwork, and looked up at her with wide brown eyes, ringed in dark lashes.

"Okay." She said, simply. Then she turned the drawing towards MJ. "Real quick though, do you know who this guy is?" MJ followed the girl's pointed finger down towards the sketch. It had been decent for being drawn by someone so young, if clearly only drawn from memory, and she remembered briefly wondering if someone had encouraged her art more when she'd been that age, would she have tried to pursue it once she'd graduated high school?

She'd glanced down at the artwork and raised her eyebrows when the features of the portrait came further into focus, a bell ringing dimly in the back of her mind. "Why are you asking?" She'd questioned calmly, despite her heart suddenly racing in her chest as she tried to keep her appearance as neutral as possible on the outside, her tone bored.

"It's just someone I know. He's been missing for two years." MJ's heartrate increased, thundering in her chest.

"Hm." She said, quietly, considering the sad look on the girl's face. "Well, I can't say that I know who he is, because that'd be a lie. But maybe you give me a copy of the sketch and I'll keep an eye out for him?" Morgan pursed her lips, looking up at her curiously, her little hand tightening around her pencil.

"Why would you do that?" She'd asked, curiosity clear in her voice. MJ had simply shrugged.

"Everyone deserves to be found, right?" She hadn't known the kid at all at the time, but she could see the gears turning in her head, behind her eyes. Morgan nodded slowly. "If I ever went missing, I'd hope the people that loved me wouldn't stop looking." MJ confessed, quietly. Morgan had agreed, ripping one of the pages out of the sketchbook and sliding it across the counter to her.

"Okay. You'll let me know if you see him?" She asked, staring at her, hard, as she bit her lip. MJ nodded again.

"You're planning on coming back regularly? We get a lot of people in and out of here." MJ warned, but Morgan bobbed her head enthusiastically, her brown eyes lighting up. "Then you'll be the first to know if he shows up." MJ agreed, grabbing the slip of paper that held the boy's portrait and folding it in half to slip it in the front pocket of her uniform. Morgan had pursed her lips and nodded again.

"Okay." She said, softly. "I'm Morgan, by the way."

"Michelle." MJ said, reaching across the counter to shake Morgan's hand. "But my friends call me MJ." Morgan's grip was steady in her own, and MJ had to suppress a smile at the feel of the small hand squeezing her own. There was a certain spark to the girl's eyes, and despite the fact that MJ had known she was lying, and she'd never been particularly fond of liars, something had stirred in her chest.

"Okay, MJ. Nice to meet you." The young girl's eyes glimmered with something indefinable and that was the beginning of how MJ began to piece together who Peter Parker—with his crumpled piece of paper and the saddest brown eyes she'd ever seen—really was.

Peter woke up on Tuesday with a jolt, the sound of his phone ringing snapping him out of his sleep.

He sat up quickly, a piece of paper sticking to his cheek, only to peel off and flutter back down onto his desk, where he'd evidently passed out the night prior, after slipping back into his room. He'd spent the night reading and re-reading the news article about himself and Natasha, going back and forth between the link Harley had sent him and the notes Olivia had written in the margins of Pepper's file.

Breaking News: Black Widow and Spider-Man Caught Getting Up-Close and Personal on Late Night Rendezvous. Is the Spider-Menace in Spider-Love?

Published: Sunday January 17th, 2027.

Written by: J. Jonah Jameson

It seems the Spider-Menace has found himself a paramour.

The Black Widow, aka Natasha Romanov—best known for her stint as a secret agent for the Russian KGB in documents obtained from the infamous news release nearly thirteen years ago, in 2014 that she herself helped release—was spotted arm in arm with the undying plague of New York himself, Spider-Man.

While it is well known that Ms. Romanov has served under the guise of an Agent of SHIELD (no doubt one of the most corrupt corporations this country has ever seen), as well as her time in the Avengers, it is clear she has returned to her roots of betrayal. The Accords are still in full effect, and Spider-Man has operated as a free agent for three years without consequence and now it is clear as to why. Evidently, he has some sort of budding romance with one of the founders of the Avengers. No one is quite sure how Spider-Man has remained under the radar of the U.S. government, especially with the Accords so firmly in place, but clearly Natasha Romanov has had a hand in keeping his identity a secret. After all, who best to trust with your identity than a spy?

Pepper Stark has been an outspoken supporter of The Accords, having been asked on record numerous times about complying with them, and encouraging all new heroes to register. Despite her support of one of the greatest decisions our government has implemented, it must be asked: Why has Mrs. Stark and her merry band of heroes not remanded Spider-Man into their custody? It is clear that Spider-Man is a danger to this city, a stain that cannot be washed away, despite the image put forth of his 'wholesomeness' that some civilians push for. Mrs. Stark has not spoken on Spider-Man since her husband's tragic passing in 2023. Could the budding romance of the arachnids have anything to do with her silence?

After the destruction of the Statue of Liberty three years ago—which Spider-Man no doubt had a malicious hand in—he has not been spotted working with any of the Avengers, until now.

It is unclear how exactly Ms. Romanov and her new beau came into contact, but if the former spy knows what is best for her, she will surely come forward with more information and turn him in to face the judgement he so rightly deserves. After all, it can't be worth it to protect someone who is known for causing destruction upon our great city at every given chance.

The whistleblower of this astonishing new romance who helped provide the photo did not wish to be identified, due to the fear of retaliation from either party, which should tell you exactly how dangerous Ms. Romanov and Spider-Man are.

Keep your eyes trained on this page for any further news on this developing story.

Your most trusted news outlet bids you a good night, New York.

***If you have any information regarding the story above, please don't hesitate to reach out to 1-800-THEBUGLE to submit tips. You could be featured on our next big story!***

The article was outrageous, as all of Jameson's news articles pertaining to Peter always were. But he couldn't help but obsessively reading it, trying to make sense of everything and he didn't even remember falling asleep. He scrubbed at his eyes, groaning at the sound of the continued chirping of his phone and he reached blindly for it, scattering papers in the process of his bleary-eyed search. Finally, his fingers connected with the slim metal, and he raised it to his ear, clicking accept.

"Hello, this is Peter speaking." He yawned into it, rubbing again at his eyes with his free hand.

"Hi, Peter! It's Kayla, Dr. Reynolds secretary. She asked me to call you to see if you could come in today. Ms. Leigh has come down with a stomach bug or food poisoning of some sort and I'm afraid she needs to take the day off to recover. I apologize for the short notice, but is there any chance you would be willing to come in and help us cover her classes?" Peter woke up a little more at the sound of her chirping voice, trying not to yawn as he processed her words. He only had one class on Tuesday's, and it wasn't anything super important. Surely his English professor would understand if he skipped the lesson, especially since he'd never missed and his grades were where they needed to be to pass.

"Um, yeah." He said, sitting up straighter and swiveling in his chair to face the small mirror that hung on the other wall. His reflection stared back at him, red-eyed and messy-haired, and he blinked, wincing at the sight of himself. "What time is it?" Kayla laughed nervously into the phone and Peter pulled it away from his ear.

7:05. Well, shit.

"It's seven." Kayla said brightly, unaware that he'd already checked. "Like I said, sorry for the short notice." She really did sound apologetic, and Peter nodded, despite the fact that she couldn't see him.

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. I might be a little late, but I'll head that way shortly."

"Oh, fantastic! Dr. Reynold's will be so pleased to hear that. Thank you, Peter! We'll see you soon. If you are late, I'll make sure the first period kids are with the teacher next door until you can get here."

"Alright," Peter murmured, "thank you, Kayla."

"See you soon!" Kayla said, and then the line went dead.

Peter clambered to his feet, groaning as his muscles constricted and his ribs—still not fully healed from their encounter with a cinderblock wall and his battle with Olivia—groaned in protest. He ignored the pain and cleaned up the messy stack of papers he'd woken up on, shoving them unceremoniously in his desk drawer before quietly slipping out of his room and into the shared bathroom at the end of the hall that connected his and Harley's rooms.

He showered quickly, jumping out as soon as he was done and wiping the foggy mirror clean before brushing his teeth and running some gel through his wild curls. The redness in his eyes had dissipated with the steamy water, and he swallowed, trying to smile at himself in the mirror. It looked fake and he rolled his eyes, giving up on the endeavor. Okay, so, they're not getting the best version of me today. This is all they get on such short notice, I guess. He thought.

He walked quietly back into his room, throwing a sweater on and a pair of khakis before grabbing his satchel off the floor. He cracked his door open, peering out towards Harley's room. No light was visible under the crack of his roommate's door, and he let out a quiet breath of relief.

On quiet, sock-covered feet, he slid down the hallway, praying Harley would remain asleep. He definitely didn't have time for an encounter with him, especially after the little game of cat and mouse they'd been playing the night before. He knew he was going to have to deal with all of that sooner rather than later, but he'd prefer to do it after work. He needed the extra cash the day at work was going to provide, and he couldn't be later than he was definitely already going to be.

Unfortunately for him, Harley was in the kitchen already, humming enthusiastically and loudly to 'Adore You' by Harry Styles, his over-the-ear headphones perched on his head as he bustled around the kitchen. The smell of bacon frying in a pan met Peter's nostrils and his stomach growled, unbidden. Harley turned suddenly, grinning brightly and Peter realized only one headphone was actually covering his ear. He waved meekly at his roommate and Harley's grin widened.

"Where are you off to so early? I thought you didn't have your English class until 11?" The other boy asked, tilting his head. "I figured we could continue our game of twenty questions before you had to go." Peter suppressed a grimace, suddenly extremely grateful for the excuse of work that would get him out of the game they'd started the night before.

"I got called in to work today." He said, forcing an apologetic smile. Harley frowned.

"Oh, damn." He whined, turning back towards the pan and pulling a few strips of cooked bacon out of the popping grease, and settling them onto a paper-towel covered plate. "So, you're skipping class?" He called, glancing over his shoulder. "Do you at least want some breakfast before you go?"

Peter shook his head. "Yeah, I'll email my professor when I get there. The teacher whose class I assist with has food poisoning or a stomach bug or something like that. And thank you, but I really need to get going," he glanced towards his watch, cursing mentally at the time displayed on it, "I'm already later than I'm supposed to be."

"Alright, Parker." Harley said as Peter turned towards the door, slipping his shoes on. "Suit yourself." He shrugged. "Oh, hey, before you go though…" Peter tried not to let his irritation show on his face as he reached for the door handle, pausing so Harley could finish his thought. It was better to try and keep up appearances as much as possible. He didn't want to give Harley anything more to be suspicious about, and his behavior as of late hadn't exactly helped his case. He'd practically run out on him twice, and he didn't need Harley asking questions as to why he was so skittish with him. So, he waited. "…does that sound good?" Harley asked and Peter blinked, realizing he'd missed the question entirely, too wrapped up in his own internal monologue. "Peter?" Harley repeated. "Is Friday night okay?" Peter swallowed.

"Um, yeah, yeah. Friday night sounds great." He said, trying to sound sure of himself, despite the fact that he was completely unaware as to what he'd agreed to do. Harley beamed and pointed his tongs at him.

"Perfect!" He said happily. "Don't forget!" Then, he turned back towards the stove, moving his headphones fully back over his ears and humming to himself. Peter frowned when he was no longer looking at him, wanting to ask what exactly it was that he'd agreed to, but not wanting to embarrass himself.

Friday night. He thought, making a mental reminder. Ask Harley later.

He shook his head, and twisted the door handle down and made his way into the hallway, resolving to figure out whatever the hell he'd agreed to later and shoving the thoughts out of his head as he raced to escape the building and get to the school on time. He pulled out his phone and shot a quick text to Marnie on his way down the stairs, silently sending up a prayer of gratitude for food poisoning and stomach bugs. He didn't actively want her to be sick, Marnie was far too sweet for him to wish any harm on her, but he couldn't help but be thankful for both the pay that would come with the extra hours, and the opportunity to set things straight with Morgan. After all, there was no guarantee she'd be there that weekend, when he was originally supposed to work next.

Peter: Hey Ms. Leigh, hope you're feeling alright. They asked me to cover your classes today. Anything in particular you'd like me to get done for you?

His phone chimed as he hit the landing for the first floor, bursting out the exit door and onto the street. He'd been too distracted to throw his suit on under his work clothes and he couldn't exactly turn back around and do so now, let alone pull himself towards the New York skyline without his mask. He rolled his eyes and flagged down the nearest cab, praying his wallet was in his satchel as his eyes skimmed Marnie's message quickly.

Ms. Leigh: Peter, how many times do I need to tell you to call me Marnie? Thank you, by the way, I'm feeling a bit better. My roommate is going to bring me soup tonight and I'm hoping if I can keep it down, I'll be back first thing tomorrow. Sorry if you had plans today and thank you for covering.

Peter smiled fondly at his phone and shook his head before it buzzed with another text, right as the yellow taxi pulled up. He climbed in, giving the cabbie directions before he finally having the chance to read it.

Ms. Leigh: I emailed lesson plans to your school email, just make sure they get their reading from chapter 6 done, they'll have a test over the contents of that chapter on Friday. We started it yesterday, and if they did their homework, they should be over halfway through. Once they finish their reading, they can do their homework for their other classes. If they have any questions, I'm sure you'll be able to help them, it's an easy chapter. There are some papers to be graded in the file behind my desk, just the quizzes from Monday over last week's materials. Answer key is in there too, and my spare key for the cabinet is in my desk drawer. If you have any questions, just text me. If I'm not asleep I'll get back to you, right away. Also, watch out for fourth period. One of the students, Morgan, is a bit of a wild card. She just transferred into my class, but the Dean warned me that she can have attitude problems. Her mom is aware of it and has encouraged us to send her to the front office if need be. Hopefully she doesn't give you too much trouble. She was great yesterday, clearly a super smart kid, but I just wanted to warn you now.

Peter stared at the text and shook his head slowly. Oh, Morgan. He thought. Already making a reputation for yourself, huh? It shouldn't have been as amusing as it was, especially considering the circumstances, but he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. She was already taking after Tony, in more ways than one, the little shit. He rubbed at his eyes and leaned his head against the window of the cab, and sent off a confirmation text to Marnie before letting himself get lost in the sights of the busy New York streets, already thinking ahead to how the rest of his day was going to go.

Peter got to school almost fifteen minutes late, but Kayla didn't even seem to care in the slightest. She simply thanked him as enthusiastically as she had on the phone and led him to the teacher's classroom that was hosting the students for first period. The classroom was packed as full as a can of sardines, and when Mrs. Greene clapped her hands together to get everyone to look up, they snapped to attention.

"Alright, Ms. Leigh's class!" She said, enthusiastically. "Mr. Parker here is going to take you back to your classroom. Please line up, single file, and follow him back to your homeroom."

And that's how Peter found himself being followed by a horde a teenage girls back into Marnie's brightly decorated classroom. He found that her first period was surprisingly well behaved, though he figured he shouldn't have been that surprised. Even the girls that had attended weekend detention had been on their best behavior, so it only made sense that the girls that hadn't wound up with detention would behave even better.

His day passed quickly, once everyone was settled in. First and second period sped by faster than he'd expected, and he spent the majority of the time having the girls do the reading Marnie had asked him to oversee, reminding them of their test of Friday as he pulled out the answer key from the filing cabinet Marnie had told him about. He graded the quizzes from Monday, leaving notes of encouragement and how to correct their work while the girls worked quietly, and before he knew it, the bell for lunch was ringing.

With Marnie gone, he had no desire to go to the teacher's lounge alone. He'd forgotten to bring a lunch too, so he headed back for the small pond by the willow trees, hoping the cold January air would help give him some clarity on what he was going to say to Morgan after fourth period. He had no doubt she would either raise hell in class or wait to ambush him afterwards, so he wanted to be prepared on how he was going to handle the situation.

He was going over all the possible scenarios in his head when he was interrupted by the loud, stomping crunch of snow beneath heavy boots. He looked up to find Morgan marching angrily towards him, her hair streaming out behind her underneath her gray, knitted wool hat. Her fists were clenched in determination, and when she reached him, she pushed him, hard. Peter stumbled back a few feet, surprised at the force of her push. None of the other students had wandered outside, the weather probably to cold for their liking, and he immediately took note of the dollar bills that Morgan had held, crumpled in her hands that were now sprinkled on the snow-covered ground around them.

Seven dollars, in total, as promised.

"There." She said, haughtily. "I found you. There's your reward. Since you don't want to ask me for it yourself." She sounded angry, angrier than she had during their first encounter, and Peter's brow furrowed as he stared down at her. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth set in a thin line, and he realized, with a start, how much he could see Tony in her. It was incredibly visible in the crook of lips, the determined, angry brown of her eyes, even the texture of her hair. She was her father's daughter, through and through and Peter's heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the reminder.

He'd been unprepared for a confrontation this early in the day, hoping he had more time before he had to actually face his seemingly unresolvable situation head on. He sighed, and dropped to his knees in the snow, collecting the dollar bills quickly as the wind blew swiftly around them, lifting small clouds of snow as it tried to sweep the dollar bills away, too. He managed to gather all of them before it could, incredibly aware of the snow that clung to his pants, leaving large wet stains on the knees and shins of his khakis, seeping through the fabric and making him shiver as the cold wetness met the skin beneath. He ignored the sensation and once he had collected all of them one hand, he reached out, grabbing Morgan's small hand in his own and uncurling her fist. She didn't fight him as he did so, the anger dissipating out of her face only to be replaced with confusion.

"What are you doing?" She asked, frowning. Peter didn't answer, just curled her fingers over the dollar bills as she stared down at him.

"Morgan, that's your money." He said gently. "I don't want it."

"Then what do you want?" She asked, miserably. Tears suddenly welled in her eyes, and Peter's heart cracked in two in his chest at the sight. "You acted like you didn't know who I was, which really hurt my feelings, Peter! You won't tell me why you won't be in my life anymore, or why everyone else doesn't even know you exist! What happened?" She was pleading with him for answers, and he suddenly couldn't bear the thought of not giving them to her. It went against everything he'd worked for the past three years, but Morgan's tear-filled eyes broke the last little bit of resolve he'd held.

"Morgan, there's so much more to it than you realize." He began. "I promise I'm not trying to hurt you. I never, ever want anything to happen to you. I've been trying to protect you, this whole time." He said, still kneeling in the snow as she stared down at him, her jaw clenching and unclenching.

"Why?" She asked. "What could possibly be so bad that you just up and disappear for three years? I needed you, Peter!" She insisted. "All I wanted was my big brother, and you keep saying that this," she gestured back and forth between them, on a roll he wouldn't have been able to stop if he tired, "is dangerous. You can't just disappear on me and not expect me to wonder where you went!"

Peter ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes to compose himself. "Nothing I did was done with malicious intent, Morgan." He tried to assure her. "You weren't even supposed to know who I am." He said, pointing at her and frowning. "I still haven't figured out why you're the only person who remembers me." Morgan took a step back from him, crossing her skinny arms as her brow furrowed.

"Why would I not remember you?" She asked. "Just because everyone else doesn't? I don't get it either, Peter, but you don't get to keep hiding anymore. I made sure that you came here, for a reason. I wanted to make sure you were real, and that I wasn't just being some stupid kid like everyone was treating me." Peter's eyes snapped to hers at that, and he tilted his head, wondering what the hell she meant by that.

"What do you mean you made sure I came here?" He asked, his eyes trained on her face. She paled at the question and backtracked another couple of steps, shaking her head back and forth again.

"Does it matter?" She asked, her brown eyes wide and still lined with tears. "I got you here, and you still want to act like you don't know who I am. You're my big brother, and I'm your little sister. You're supposed to be there for me." She insisted, ignoring the question all together.

"Morgan…" Peter trailed off, frowning. "I need you to tell me exactly what you did to get me here." She raised a shoulder in a half-shrug before wiping angrily at her eyes and lifting her chin to glower more firmly at him.

M is key. His mouth turned down at the reminder of Olivia's note in Pepper's file.

"Nothing you wouldn't have, if our roles were reversed." Morgan said defiantly, unaware of what he was thinking. "Besides, it's not important. I just want you back in my life, Petey. I've just…" Her face scowl dropped and her lip wobbled uncertainly. "I've just missed you so much." Then, she was lilting forward, closing the space between them, and throwing her arms around his neck in the tightest hug—if not the only hug—he'd had in three years. He was surprised, especially after her outburst, but he let her engulf him in her embrace, his own arms raising hesitantly to tuck her closer to his chest. Her tears began to fall fully at that, wetting the collar of his sweater as she cried against him. She was bigger than she'd been the last time they'd hugged, having sprouted up in the past three years into the slightly lanky pre-teen she was becoming, and Peter had a sudden, panging longing for her to be six again, when life hadn't been so complicated for either of them. She tucked her head under his chin, fisting her hands in his sweater and holding tight. Peter let her, stroking at her hair as she began hiccupping, trying to get through her outburst of emotions. He didn't know what exactly it was that had set her off, but he was going to let her tell him in her own time. That was the only way this was going to work.

"I just want you to be my big brother again." She whispered. Peter nodded, still holding her even as her hair threatened to get in his mouth. He hadn't even realized how much he'd needed to hug her until it was happening. He'd missed hugs more than he'd been willing to admit, and having Morgan hold onto him so freely was an odd sensation after three years of no contact with his loved ones. "Promise you won't leave me again." She murmured and Peter swallowed, hard, at the request.

"Okay, Morgoona." He said, caving at the quiet hope in her voice. "Okay." She sagged against him, and he simply held her, letting her keep crying without interruption.

When she finally settled down enough for her hiccups to subside, Peter gently drew back from her. "Morgan, I just want you to know, none of this has been easy for me." He said earnestly. "I have been doing my damndest to protect you, and your mom, and everyone else that's gotten dragged into this giant mess. But I need you to promise me, right now, if I'm going to stick around, that you're going to be honest with me, and that you're not going to try to make anyone else remember me. And I promise I'll be honest with you. But it is very important that who I am, on the side, stays a secret. That's non-negotiable. You have to promise me, right now or I'm going to turn around and walk out of here and disappear again. This is very serious." Morgan nodded slowly, her eyes rimmed red. He could practically see the gears turning in her head and he wondered what she was thinking. She'd been awfully quiet since he started talking.

"Okay." She agreed carefully. "I promise, I won't tell anyone about your extracurricular activities." She said, nodding more determinedly. Peter copied the movement, though his mouth twisted uncertainly.

This is such a bad idea, a small part of his subconscious warned and as much as Peter wanted to listen to that little guiding voice, he couldn't stand the thought of seeing Morgan cry again. Once was enough. She'd already lost too much, and if he couldn't ask Stephen to make her forget him again, this was the only other option outside of leaving New York City forever. And that in of itself was a non-starter. He had too much tied to the city. His family—what was left of it—was still here and like he'd told Harley, it was where he'd been born and raised. He had stayed here to watch over them because it was his responsibility. They may have all forgotten him, but he hadn't forgotten them.

And while he absolutely abhorred the idea of Morgan getting hurt on his account, if they kept the knowledge of who he was condensed to only himself and her, maybe they could make this stupid, incredibly irresponsible plan work. He could keep an eye on her at a closer level and if she hadn't told anyone else about him—which was incredibly doubtful at this point, especially with the fact that Harley seemed to be so heavily involved—then at least he could keep her safe without looking like a creepy stalker.

"Okay," he breathed out, "okay." The repetition helped calm his racing heart and he shook his head, biting his lip. "If this is going to work, and if we're going to keep all of this a secret from your mom, you have got to convince her to cancel our coffee date on Friday morning, okay?" Morgan frowned, looking up at him, and Peter was temporarily distracted by the thought of whatever he'd agreed to do with Harley Friday evening. Great. "Also, what do you know about Harley Keener?"

"I don't know that I'll be able to convince mom to cancel." Morgan said, her frown deepening. "We aren't…" She made another face that only a nine-year-old was capable of making. "She's pretty mad with me right now, and she's going to want to know why I want her to cancel all of the sudden." She gave him a dubious look. "And I don't know a Harley." Peter narrowed his eyes at her, searching her face, but she just stared back at him, her brown eyes wide.

"Why is your mom upset with you?" He asked, making a mental note to follow up on the whole Harley situation, because he didn't believe her, not even for a second. He pulled even further back from her to hold her shoulders and make her meet his eye. She finally stopped trying to avoid it, though she looked none too pleased about it.

"I kinda, maybe, sorta told her she was going to be alone forever because she pushes everyone who loves her away." Peter stared at her, his mouth slightly agape.

"You did what?" He asked quietly, going into full big brother mode. He hadn't had to do it in three years, but it was as natural as slipping on an old, familiar coat, worn and weathered by years of familiarity. He let everything else, all the problems he'd accumulated in the last few weeks fall by the wayside. "Morgan, baby, that's so mean. Why on Earth would you say something like that to your mom?" He prodded gently. He wondered what had gone through Pepper's head at Morgan's accusation, and that was when it dawned on him. "Morgan…is that what you've been trying to do to me?" He said, staring at her, hard. She dropped her head. "Has this whole thing just been you trying to prove a point? That people care about me?"

"Um…well." Morgan dropped her gaze from his. "Yeah." She admitted, softly. She looked back up at him, peering out from underneath long, dark lashes. "I figured…I guess I just figured if I surrounded you with people you loved, and people that loved you, you would actually miss us." She shrugged again, her shoulders leaping up before dropping back down twice as fast. "And you wouldn't keep trying to run away. I hoped it would make you want to come back to us." Peter sighed and tucked a strand of hair back from her tear-stained face.

"It's not that easy, sweetie." Peter said, shaking his head back and forth in disagreement. "It's really not." Morgan reached towards him, pushing the fake glasses he occasionally wore up into his hair, the familiarity of them comforting, even if he didn't need them anymore. A frown was seated firmly on her lips as she did it.

"Why not?" She asked, just on the verge of petulance. "It seems like it's a lot easier than you're making it sound." Peter sighed and fell back in the snow, flinging his arms and legs out to make a snow angel as he tried to think of how to answer her. Morgan watched him for a minute before she dropped down in the fluffy white powder beside him, mirroring his movements. She remained quiet while he tried to collect his thoughts, though he could feel her eyes burning on the side of his head.

When Peter was satisfied with the depth he'd managed to burrow into the snow, he contemplated just staying there and letting himself freeze. He'd always heard that hypothermia was the way to go. Once the hallucinations were done, allegedly it was like falling asleep. Your body would trick you into thinking you were getting warmer, and then you'd just…drift off into the embrace of death. Or so they said, at least. He didn't really want to find out, though it would solve a lot of the problems that had occurred since Morgan showed back up in his life. This all would have been so much easier if Morgan had forgotten who he was, like everyone else had. He wouldn't be having to have this conversation, wouldn't be having to think twenty steps ahead on how he was going to keep her safe since she was so determined to remain in his life, wouldn't be worried about what his idiot enemies would try to do if they found out how important Morgan and the rest of his family really was to him.

Finally, he sat up, and Morgan did the same, sitting crisscross-applesauce to face him, her mouth twisting. She was covered in snow, though she was protected by her thick winter coat, whereas Peter only had his sweater and khakis. He was definitely going to have to go to the lost and found to find something to change into when they finally went back inside and he held back a shiver, not wanting to interrupt their time together just yet. It'd been three years since he'd had a real conversation with his little sister, and he could bear a little cold in the meantime. Thermoregulation problems or not.

"I wish it were that easy." He said, finally. She scooted closer to him, grabbing his hand in her own. "Do you remember my Aunt May?" He asked, staring at her with a small frown. Morgan titled her head, her mouth pursed, and she nodded slowly.

"Yeah. She smells like lilac, and she always burns everything when she tries to cook. Actually, she's just a terrible cook in general. One time she made cookies and didn't realize she'd made them with salt instead of sugar. Mom nearly threw up when she took a bite." Peter dropped his head, unable to help the goofy smile that crossed his lips at the memories she'd stirred up.

"Yeah…" he agreed softly, "yeah, she did do that." Morgan tilted her head, waiting for him to continue. She squeezed gently at his hand and Peter let out a sharp breath. "Well, she's not around anymore." Morgan's brow furrowed again.

"What happened?" Her voice sounded small, and Peter was struck again with how young she really was.

"She died, Mongoose." She inhaled sharply at the confession and Peter looked back up at her. She looked so little, and so sad, and Peter felt like his heart was breaking all over again. "And it was my fault." He'd never forgive himself for putting May in the danger he had. She had died and it had been all his fault. He would do anything to protect the people he loved. He would never let what happened to May, happen to Morgan. He didn't think he'd be able to live with himself if he did.

Morgan's frown deepened. "Does this have anything to do with what happened at the Statue of Liberty?" She asked quietly. Peter nodded.

"Yeah. It's kind of crazy. I don't know that you'd believe me if I told you what really happened." She squeezed his hand again, a reassurance.

"Petey, for the past three years, no one believed me when I tried to tell them about you. I know what it feels like to not have someone believe the truth." Peter couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips at her child-like honesty. She may be smarter than most adults, but she was still just a little kid at heart.

"Alright." Peter conceded. "I accidentally opened the multiverse."

"The multiverse is real?" Morgan squeaked, sitting up straighter her eyes going wide. "Since when? And why does no one know about it?" Her questions came rapid fire, and Peter lifted his hand, quickly slapping it over her mouth. She stared up at him wide-eyed, still chattering undeneath his palm and Peter shook his head at her, refusing to budge. Her eyebrows furrowed and suddenly she was licking his palm.

"Ew, Morgan!" He said, pulling back from her quickly and wiping his hand in the snow surrounding them, effectively ruining their snow angels. "That's disgusting." He said, giving her a sour look. She just shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"Well get on with it, Petey." She said in exasperation. Her tone softened with the words that followed and she leaned back on her palms to watch him. "What happened?" Peter sighed again.

"To explain, I have to back up a little bit. How much do you remember?" He asked and Morgan tilted her head, considering him.

"I think I remember everything." She said, hesitantly. Peter nodded.

"Do you remember Quentin Beck?" He asked and she frowned, shaking her head 'no.' Peter's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out how exactly that worked. He decided not to try and overthink it. "Okay, well, he was a really bad guy. And he revealed my identity to the whole world, after I went to Europe." Morgan's eyes were wide as she listened in rapt attention. "Which maybe wouldn't have been a real problem if it hadn't made the majority of people turn against me. Me and my friends at the time got rejected from our dream school, so I asked Doctor Strange to make everyone forget. I…" He hesitated, frowning. "I messed up the spell though. And it tore the multiverse open. Everyone who knew who Peter Parker was, in any dimension, was suddenly looking for me. There was a man who had these four extra arms that he'd made himself, a lizard man, a guy who could control electricity, another guy who was made out of sand, and a man who dressed as a green goblin. And there were two versions of me that came through, too." He wasn't sure Morgan's eyes could have gotten any wider, but they did though she still didn't interrupt. "The Green Goblin had a lot of…issues. And May told me that with great power, comes great responsibility. She wanted me to help fix them and get them home, because they'd made bad decisions in their own universes that had resulted in them dying. She wanted me to help redeem them. And she got killed for it." He let out a sharp breath and Morgan stood up suddenly, hugging him again.

"So now you think you have to keep everyone away so that you can keep them safe." She said, quietly. Peter simply nodded.

"That's why I didn't want you to keep pursuing this." He said, softly. "I can't have something like that happen to you, Morgan."

"It won't." Morgan assured him. "I'll keep your secret." Peter gave her another long, hard look.

"Are you sure you can do that?" He asked. "I mean, you can't tell your mom, you can't tell anyone Morgan. I cannot risk something happening to anyone I care about." Morgan swallowed and her brown eyes were unreadable.

"I promise, Peter." She said. "Your secret is safe with me."