lepoffaith

by Lazydaily

marvel peter gotham long ass chapters

2. Chapter 2

Dick thinks that they might have to intervene and make Tim get some rest. Which isn't an unusual situation for them. Tim never gets enough rest, and they're all sure the kid's blood is made of coffee at this point. The only thing stopping him from putting Redbull in instead of water when he brews him fifth mug of the day is a lingering threat from Alfred and Bruce that Dick is not supposed to be aware of.

Sometimes, this problem is the complete opposite. When the kid actually does fall asleep, he stays asleep. No matter if he's at the Manor, his own apartment, in the car, on a roller coaster, or a submarine. If he feels like he's safe, his body is going to catch up on the days of sleep he missed whether he likes it or not.

This is one of those times where Dick might need help getting Tim away from the screen. Because his stubborn streak can rival his body's natural processes, and Tim is refusing to go anywhere until he cracks their newest puzzle.

"Nothing, nowhere," He mutters (not for the first time) under his breath. One hand is twisted in his hair with his pointer finger tapping away in thought, his eyes flicking between two of four screens. They go back and forth like a Kit-Cat Klock, and Dick imagines his brain is ticking just like one. Tick tock tick tock tick tock… It makes Tim look a little manic, which isn't helping his case that he needs to get to bed, and soon.

Of course, because Tim is stubborn, Dick is going to have to do more than recognize the signs.

"How is this even possible?" Tick tock goes Tim's eyes.

"When did you last sleep?"

Dick is ignored. As usual.

Tim's hand removes from his hair (the place where he had been keeping it now has the hair sticking up) and he bites at his nails, leaning back in his seat to get a view of all four screens. Tick tock. Dick leans on the desk, crossing his arms and mentally preparing himself for having to wrestle Tim into taking a nap, at the very least. Last time, he almost lost a finger during the struggle. It's not happening again if he can help it.

"He's not listed anywhere. Not on any school records in Queens, or New York at all. No medical records that match his description that go anywhere, no neighborhood or community posts talking about a kid who's gone missing in the last five years. No digital footprint so far, no family records, no immigration or travel records, no legal record that this kid exists." Tim rants, but it's mostly to himself. "It's like he just popped out of the sky and started wandering around Gotham. Babs has records of him walking around during the daytime, pretty much everywhere, with no destination in mind. And then at night, we lose him when he starts doing the exact same thing and then!" Tim laughs, clapping his hands together. "Then, he disappears! No one can find him until he pops up again the next day!"

"Tim, have you slept?" He asks more urgently. Once again, he's ignored.

It's not like Dick isn't worried, or paying attention to what Tim is saying. He learned his lesson multiple times to not ignore Tim. But this is not news, not anymore. It had been when Babs first got on Peter's case, that very first night. But it's been four days, and all Dick has heard from them is this exact thing.

Peter is untraceable. It really is like he fell out of the sky one day.

They couldn't find him in the foster system, so they moved on to searching through schools in New York, starting with the top-listed schools that kids could get scholarships to go to, and then further down. Peter is likely smart enough to earn a scholarship like that, if he's half as good at hacking as Babs thinks he is. They followed any rabbit hole they thought might lead to something: a Peter at a school called Topside that was in foster-care? Turned out to be a 17 year old that looks nothing like him. There was a girl who tagged a Peter for an debate club picture, but it was just a nickname for a girl friend of hers. That had led them to going through schools with far less opportunities, but nothing there either. Babs and Tim have been using an algorithm to pick up any similarities between Peter and their files, but nothing comes back that is of any worth.

Even B is stumped, when he manages to get time to help. That doesn't sound like the Batman he knows. Dick didn't think that this 14 year old would end up causing such a ruckus in the Batcave. Bruce and Tim may have been stalking Peter these last couple of nights, but that's while waiting for a break on Two-Face's whereabouts or uncovering how they got out of Arkham this time. Bruce is more focused on that than he is Peter, so Peter is more of a project for the rest of them, that can spare the time.

Except every turn they take just leads them back to nothing. Which worries them more.

Because it's starting to sound like the kid is in some serious danger, if he doesn't even exist. He almost considered witness protection, but that would involve creating a fake life of some kind. This kid has none. It doesn't spell out anything nice, and leans more towards the the possibility they had been praying wouldn't be the case: human trafficking. Peter might not even be his real name.

"I think this Peter kid is breaking his brain." Steph calls from the other side of the Batcave. She's lazily spinning in a chair, shooting rubber bands at a stalactite.

"Because how!? How is he doing this?" Tim, who apparently was listening, whirls around to speak directly to her. His hands flail around as he talks. Steph ignores the outburst, sticking her tongue out as she aims her next rubber band. "I swear, it's like he knows I'm there! He looked at me! He looked at B! Do you know how insane that is? Do we all understand that? It's impossible to find a hiding Batman, and yet this kid always manages to look directly where B is."

Dick frowns smally, recalling the same thing had happened to him, when he first met Peter It was like Peter had sensed him nearby, and Dick swore the kid made eye contact with him.

"Maybe he's really sensitive to people looking at him." Steph figures, aiming a rubber band at a stalactite above Bruce, who doesn't even flinch when they land on his desk. He continues reading whatever it is that has him so preoccupied… Ah, from what Dick can see, Gordon had left more emails in Bruce's inbox than there was yesterday. Looks like something about Two-Face. Is that why Stephanie is here? With Killer Croc and a Firefly out, it would make sense that Stephanie gets assigned his case. Maybe Tim or Damian will be working with her.

"He knows when Bruce is watching him, Steph!"

"Really, really sensitive."

"Tim, you should sleep." Dick tries again. He's ignored again.

"It bothers me that I can't even find a picture of him anywhere." Tim glares at the top monitor above his head, which is searching through the police database on missing kid reports, potential human trafficking cases, and social medias from New Yorkers. "All I get are look-alikes. Maybe I need to go farther back than five years."

Tim holds back a yawn, attempting to cover his mouth with one hand. He reaches for his coffee, but Dick places his hand over the top of the cup. The glare that was reserved for the computer is sent his direction instead, but Dick holds a stern gaze. It's been three days now with Tim not getting more than three hours.

"Sleep. Now."

"I don't need sleep, I need answers." Tim stands his ground.

"You do need to study." Steph points out. Another rubber band lands on Bruce's head. This time, the man looks down at his desk, sees the rubber bands, looks above him, then sighs when Stephanie shoots another. He returns to his work as if nothing happened, and Steph gives a wicked satisfied grin. "Don't you and Duke have an exam coming up?"

"Who cares about that?" Tim waves it off.

And yep, that's it.

Bruce and Dick had to fight tooth and nail to get Tim back into school rather than keeping up the CEO thing. Not that Tim couldn't very well handle it- but Dick owed it to Tim to take care of him, after what happened when Bruce "died." Tim deserves his senior year of high school, he deserves getting a graduation day with everyone in the family there to celebrate. He and Duke are in the same class now, and Tim has been doing better than he has in years now that things have settled.

Dick made a lot of mistakes before. One of them being not getting on Tim's case. Tim is independent, and Dick mistook that for being okay. So, to preserve the 18 year old's promised life, Dick picks up the coffee, downing it in one go.

Tim squawks out in horror and his eyes grow wide, snatching the empty cup from Dick's hand. He turns it over to watch one drip fall out of the cup and into his hand. In horror more befitting someone actually being murdered in front of him, Tim cries out, "What is wrong with you!?"

Bruce looks up from his work, startled until he sees the cup. He glances towards Dick with that unreadable expression that Dick has come to place as "concern." When Dick sends him a short, tight lipped smile, trying to convey I've got this, Bruce hesitates, but nods. However, he doesn't resume typing, which leads Dick to assume he's waiting for a point where he might need to step in.

He learned what Dick had. He also knows better now than to not get on Tim's case about taking care of himself.

"Get up, Baby Bird!" Dick leans off of the desk and claps his hands together. When Tim doesn't move and instead glares at Dick in a way that reminds Dick of a lion going for the kill, he grabs the back of Tim's chair and starts rolling it away from the desk.

"…You're gonna have to get me upstairs in this thing." Tim sounds defiant.

"I think I'll manage."

"Dick, please, my brother, my best friend, my ride-or-die, my…" Tim falls silent when Dick isn't faltering in his steps. "You hate me."

He almost misses his step. Tim plays dirty. "I do not hate you, Tim."

"You hate me and you're trying to kill me. You want me to leave-

"Not at all, never."

"Bye, boyfie!" Steph calls out from the middle of the room, kicking her feet up when she rolls over to his spot at the computer. "I'll keep an eye on your Peter Finder, you freak."

"Do you see what you're doing to me, Dick?" Tim whines.

Dick smiles, unashamed of his tactics. There's been no almost-finger-snapping, so Tim is more tired than he's let on. "You'll live, little brother."

Tim drops his feet to drag it along, but when Dick checks over his shoulder, Tim's head is drooping down further and further. His eyes stay closed, and he gives weak protests as Dick drags the chair up a set of stairs. They pass by Alfred on the way up to Tim's room and the man doesn't blink at the sight, just telling Dick to mind the vases.

As he drags his poor younger brother against his will up the stairs, he can't stop thinking about Peter. How alone and small he looked while sitting on that roof, especially with the Gotham skyline in front of him. Gotham isn't a place for a lone kid to be wandering around- all of them know that too well. Peter is new to here, that much Dick thinks is true. He looked lost, and when he spoke about Queens there was a smile on his lips like Peter thought it was further away than it really is.

They wonder if the kid has a place to sleep, if he even is staying with his dad or not. From what Tim and Bruce had put into Peter's file, he apparently wears two outfits, never changing his shirt. But he does wash his clothes at a local laundromat, the same one every time. He wears the same busted up shoes everywhere he goes. The bruises on his neck were gone by the second day, but they were pretty sure it must have been makeup. He didn't want anyone else to notice the bruises, and he covered them up. So either he stole some makeup, or he has access to it from someone in his life. Which points to him having somewhere to stay.

It bothers Dick that the kid would go to such lengths just so no one would ask. He defended his dad so fiercely that he didn't want to think that Peter's dad could do it, but… Lots of kids defend their parents, even though the parents had hurt them. Tim had been the same for a long time. Even though he knew what his parents had done was wrong, he wanted to believe that they loved him. The alternative was too harsh, too real. In Tim's case it had been neglect and emotional abuse, but Dick has seen enough cases to know it transfers to physical abuse as well.

And the thing is, why would he hide it, if it wasn't caused by someone he cares about? Nightwing is a known vigilante in Gotham, but outside of Gotham as well, because he branched out into the Titans and the Justice League. If he had been hurt by someone, Peter should have known that Nightwing could help him. Would arrest the person that hurt him, would find him somewhere safe to go.

It just doesn't sit right with him. With any of them.

"What the fuck are you doin'?"

Dick blinks at Jason, hauling Tim and his chair up the last step to the second floor. Jason had just woken up from the looks of his hair, his hoodie on backwards and missing a sock. It's not often that he crashed at the Manor, but ever since B came back, there has been a shift in the family. B is more open than he was before, he's trying. He's apologizing… which is the weirdest part.

Dick is suddenly struck by the memory of a 13 year old Jason Todd-Wayne rubbing his eyes sleepily, his hair all out of sorts from kicking around in his sleep, watching Dick and his friends be annoying first thing in the morning.

"Timmy needed to go to bed." Dick replies, and Jason closes his eyes. He must decide not to ask, because he shakes his head and starts to go around them to get down the stairs.

Dick watches him get halfway before saying, "Wait."

Jason doesn't wait at first. He takes a few more steps, stops, groans to himself, then looks up at Dick. He's annoyed, but listening. "What?"

"I have to go back to Bludhaven today, later this morning." Dick feels guilty for thinking about it, what with how much is happening in Gotham lately. But he has his responsibilities in Bludhaven, too, and he can't leave it for long. He just needs to go and check on there, and then he comes right back to help them with the multiple rouges that are giving Gotham trouble right now. And Peter.

Peter, that's what is bothering him. Tim and Steph are likely going to have to focus on Two-Face in the next few days, and Killer Croc won't take long to resurface. Not to mention that the specific Firefly that got out is known for playing the longer con, taking his time setting his traps. Batman will have to focus on that.

But Peter could slip away in that time…

"And?" Jason raises a brow when Dick says nothing, too lost in his thoughts.

But there's one person they can count on to check on a kid.

"Can you swing by and check on Peter?"

"Peter?"

"The kid that showed up, you know. Babs was worried about him, and now we're worried about him." Dick almost forgot that Jason was busy with Black Mask goons starting shit a couple days ago. "He's somewhere between 12 or 14 and we think someone is after him. Or maybe that his living situation is not- ideal. Or dangerous."

"Library kid."

"Yeah, that one."

Jason stares at him, then looks at the ceiling as if trying to find something. "Fuck you."

"It's just that-"

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it." Jason flips him off as he heads down the stairs. Dick is exhausted, but his nerves settled somewhat.

Tim groans and Dick looks back at him. He's halfway out of his chair and dangerously slipping towards the steps. Dick grabs under his arms and pulls him back up, abandoning the chair to instead lift Tim over his shoulder.

"Put me down."

"You can't even protest properly." Dick opens the door to Tim's room, and chucks him down on the bed. Tim mutters something along the lines of "Fuck you" but it's muffled with his face in the blanket. Dick turns the lights out, throws a blanket over Tim, and leaves the door cracked for Alfred to bother Tim to eat later.

It ended up being a good thing that Benny offered this room when he did. Otherwise, Peter would have been screwed on an astronomical scale.

Somehow, he had appeared in this world during an anomaly of Gotham's weather: it hadn't rained yet. When they were making their way up the steps to the two apartments upstairs (both of which belong to Benny), Peter caught a glimpse of the rain. It was swaths of icy water, a sheet that blanketed the entire city. Thunder rattled overhead and a chill washed over him. When Benny showed Peter the room and saw that Peter kept looking outside the window, he commented that Peter was lucky.

"It's always raining, and it's always cold."

Had Benny not offered this place when he did, Peter would have gone back to that water silo and not known the rain was coming. Not only would it have destroyed all of his belongings (except the water proof hero material), Peter would have spent a long time trying to find a place to get out of the rain and ended up a popsicle.

The fact that this weather is common for Gotham doesn't bode well for Peter, not with his thermoregulation issues. Even inside, a chill is cast over the room that he can feel under his clothes.

It's also a good thing that all of Peter's belongings fit inside this backpack, so he didn't have to return to the water silo to get his stuff. It could have been a lot worse than it ended up being.

He's lucky.

Lucky.

He sets down his backpack on the mattress, gaining his bearings with the room. It's small, but Peter doesn't mind that. He's lived in a practical closet before, shared rooms with a bunch of foster siblings. Hell, he slept on the floor more in his life than he's slept on a real bed. He could live anywhere and make it work.

This room has a closet on the wall with the door, opposite a twin bed with fresh sheets and blankets. There's a desk and a lamp at the foot of the bed, right next to one of the two windows on that wall. The room isn't attached to Benny's apartment, which settles his nerves even more. Benny's apartment is across the hall, though they share a kitchen. Not attached to Peter's room but on the same side is a bathroom that he also doesn't share with Benny.

He likes Benny and is decently aware that he is not a danger, but staying in a stranger's apartment is never the best idea.

Benny told him that he uses this place to help people like Peter out. He wonders how many people have passed through this room, and how many looked like him. He's glad that Benny isn't a snitch, and he's even more glad that the man didn't comment on Peter's age.

Kids and homelessness… well, it's always one of two options how people think of kids like Peter. Either they look at him with disgust (well disguised or not), or they're heartbroken. Whether this offer from Benny was out of pity, gratitude, or kindness, Peter accepts this opportunity that just fell into his lap. This time.

It's not that he's ungrateful. He just really hates pity. When people get that look, and they think about helping him…

Not because they are ill intentioned, but because they are ill informed. Peter didn't want to get close to people, it meant that they would eventually try to help him. And people who had happy lives like that- stable and normal, they don't understand. They think they were doing good, calling the cops about this kid, and he knows their hearts were in the right place. But he also knew better than them about the system they thought was his best hope.

(Or they would die, if he really got close to them.)

After the Battle of Manhattan, the foster care system in New York turned over. Foster families died, and regular families died, and the system was filled with so many kids who had nowhere to go. There was too much to keep up with, too many tragedies.

Kids slipped through the cracks.

Peter just happened to be one of them.

His first foster family, they were fostering Peter to adopt him. They were kind, and all things good. He still thinks about them, about what his life would have been had they not died in the Battle. They were proof that the foster system itself wasn't irredeemable. It was likely just Parker Luck that made it so bad for him.

Whatever the case, he was better off alone at that time. Pity wasn't accepted because pity came from people with good intentions and bad results. But he needs the help now, so he accepts the pity this one time, because it isn't coming with Benny calling CPS. If it does, Peter will be out before they get here.

(Oh, man, he can't even begin to imagine how bad Gotham's foster care system must be. If New York after the Battle was bad, Gotham's must be hell on Earth.)

There's a lot of things that this means for him.

For one, he's not homeless, he has a proper place to stay. (Though, homeless isn't just sleeping in the streets. Homeless could also mean exactly what Peter is doing, it could mean drifting from house to house. The details are not lost on Peter, he just wants a win right now.)

For two, this should get the Bats off his back if they think he's in danger, right? If they're just suspicious of him, then they'll keep watching him. And if they were worried about him, then this should ease that worry and they'll leave him alone.

Peter watches the steady fall of the rain, perched on the end of his bed. The only view outside was of the brick wall of the other building next to the restaurant, and it is getting dark outside.

…What if the Bats don't leave him alone? If they stick to him, he'll have to just… rip that band-aid off. They'll show their true colors once Peter shows himself.

Something about that makes his skin crawl. Not in a spider-sense way- no, in fact, it's rather silent at the moment. That nagging voice in the back of his mind is sniffing around, reminding him of how different this world is, yet exactly the same as before. Peter has a handle on it, he does. He's not freaking out, he's not…

Well, he is alone. But not really. Everything is going to be fine.

Eventually, Peter turned to his comms again.

The rain has started to settle as he turns the comms in his hand, inspecting the inside parts. He works methodically, almost on muscle memory. Tony had shown Peter the ins and outs of most of his tech. He still remembers when Tony first showed him how to operate a comm- it was right after Peter got settled into living with them, before Peter went to a summer camp for his new school.

Tony had sat him down in his lab and gave his same no-nonsense (but all the nonsense) type of lesson as he had done so many times before. He let Peter hold the working parts, made him identify the inner mechanics, made Peter explain what it's purpose was.

"To communicate between teammates." Peter had answered.

"And to call for help." Tony had added.

This had been fresh after Peter's kidnapping. He had just made his first appointment with his therapist, and didn't know what was in store for him. But something about Tony and this moment felt like it made all the sense in the world.

"I know I'm not the poster child for asking for help, but it is important. See, kid, what I've learned is that… carrying everything on your shoulders, it is bound to break you at some point. There is a reason it was a punishment for Atlas."

Tony had held his gaze for a long stretch of silence. Not waiting for Peter to speak, but rather collecting his own thoughts. He'd never known Tony to drop a serious talk like this. A lot of Tony's lessons were between jokes or in the middle of a lecture. This was neither.

He hadn't said much about what he was feeling when he found Peter and got him out of that lab. He just told Peter how he was going to fix it. Peter knew that he would, without him saying.

"I want you to know that you can call for me."

"I did."

Because he had. Peter had managed to call Tony to get him before he was overwhelmed and knocked out. If he hadn't, they wouldn't have gotten his last location, and it would have taken longer to find Peter and the lab he was brought to, with the other kids.

"I know, you called for me. But I need to you know, Peter. Every time you call, I'll be there. And- that's what the comm is for." Tony had picked up the comm and Peter tracked his every movement, reading between the lines.

Other people need it to be said out loud, but Peter is good at reading body language. His eyesight lets him track the most minuscule of details, his hearing lets him know every intake of breath. Tony was promising he'd come every time Peter needed him, but he was saying that Peter had a support system. He doesn't work alone anymore.

"Thanks, Tony."

Tony had smiled, grabbed his head with one hand, and pressed Peter's forehead on his shoulder, tucked his chin over Peter's head. "I know, I\'m great. It's good you acknowledge that, Bambino."

He's approaching four days without hearing from anyone.

His thumb clicks the edge of the comm without thinking about it. He hadn't noticed he finished fixing it until he snapped back into the present. He hears the crackle come to life, but it settles on static without a specific frequency to set to.

With a tug at his heart, he pulls the comm up to his ear and settles back into the chair of his desk now. He wraps his arms around his knees, staring out the window to his left. The rain is starting to subside. The static almost reminds him of the hum of Tony's arc reactor. If he closes his eyes and deludes himself.

"Hey," Peter's voice feels heavy.

Back when dinner was a one person affair, Peter would speak to the only picture he had of his uncle and aunt. He'd talk about his day, pretending that in another world, they were sitting around the table together. In that perfect world, Peter was still Spider-Man, but nothing ever went wrong. May never had her heart attack, and Ben hadn't…

He'd ignore the silence between his own words. Sometimes pretending they were replying to him.

"It's day three of Wonderland." Peter tells the empty room. Part of him wishes Tony would walk through the door, all confidence and pompadour. "I found a place to stay, finally. Lucky, too, because it started raining outside. Benny, the owner of this burger joint I found? He's the one who let me stay here."

Peter can only hear static.

"I'm… I'm gonna get back, right?" Peter asks. The anxiety has started to bubble up inside of him. "I'm not gonna be alone like that again."

More static. He can trick himself into thinking it's a voice, if he wanted to.

"It's not like I'll never see you or Pepper again." Peter says, but is he telling Tony this, or is he telling himself? "It's not like the other times. Because we're both alive. Just… in different spots. You're not- You're not dead. And I'm not alone."

But isn't he? Isn't Peter alone right now?

It had been like that the last times. Only before, Peter was left behind. This time, Peter was the one who disappeared.

"No, no it isn't like that." Peter slams the comm onto the table and gets up from the desk chair, pacing around the room and biting his thumbnail. "I didn't- Tony wouldn't think I'm dead. He'd keep looking for me. He said if I needed him, he'd come- and even if I didn't need him, he'd be there. We're a team."

But you're not really his son.

"I know that." Peter replies to himself. He probably looks crazy to any outside observer- what a drama queen. Jeez, he's overthinking this again. He takes a breath, hands out in front of him. Until he realizes that he's shaking, and he instead attempts to put his hands in his pockets.

"I'm not- I know that. But he takes care of me. And- And he-"

It's too stuffy in this room, Peter thinks. He can feel the walls are too close, too in his way. Every wall is surrounding him, keeping him pinned in here just like- just like the closet he stayed in, just like that lab had pinned him down and made him feel weak all over again. But they aren't actually closing in, right?

He turns to the window, where rain has started to drift from downpour to sprinkle. Peter feels the shiver of the cold in anticipation, but it's- it's not that bad.

Peter is lucky. He has somewhere to come back to, if the rain gets bad.

"This is fine," Peter tells himself as he opens the window, relieved to find a fire escape waiting for him, like it was telling him this is a genius idea. "Just a quick walk around the corner."

That's what he promises himself. He just needs to walk, to pace somewhere that isn't this new room, this reminder that he isn't at home. That he isn't getting ready for dinner, that Tony and Pepper aren't just down the hall. This reminder that it's not like the other times, but also exactly the same as before. This- this situation he's in, it is entirely unfamiliar to him, not like the water silo and sleeping on roofs.

It's harder to pretend everything is fine if he's somewhere that he hasn't been before, that he knows so well. This room isn't his room at Tony's, and it isn't where he was taking care of himself before- and he just needs to walk around to get used to that fact.

It isn't like before, but it is.

Peter used to be Parker, he was 12 and 13 years old but he handled himself damn fine on the streets. He made money with side jobs, he ran from the cops, he took care of people he came across. He had friends on the street, even if they didn't know his real name. Parker lived in Queens, but Peter is living in Gotham, and god, please don't make him start over.

He wants to believe that it's going to be okay. Tony wouldn't give up on him, and Peter wouldn't give up on Tony. So what if this is like back then? Peter has to suck it up, quit being a baby about it.

The street doesn't do anything to settle his chattering nerves, unfortunately. The anxiety swirls around in his mind, reminding him of all the other times this happened, when Peter had to start over, or when he lost someone.

His parents went first, ripped from the sky before they even got the chance to be a family that Peter could remember. After that, Peter stayed in a foster home for the first time before Uncle Ben and Aunt May could get approved to take care of him.

That house was full of kids, and Peter was an only child for his life before that. He wasn't used to the noise, the lack of privacy, the fighting or the fact that everyone walked on eggshells. One of his first memories is not of his parents, but of an older teen fussing at him for crying at night. They had grabbed his arm and hissed at him:

"Get over it already. Life happens."

He was glad when Uncle Ben and Aunt May took him in. They never got mad when Peter cried.

But then he got lost, and Aunt May collapsed, when he was nine. It was only a few years with her, but he still remembers how soft her hair was when she hugged him.

Get over it already. Life happens.

And then Uncle Ben, a year later. The gunshots still echo in Peter's nightmares.

Get over it already. Life happens.

Then Karen, Devon, and Chandler. The Battle of Manhattan had taken them so soon after he lost Ben, and he still remembers the crunch when rubble fell from the sky-

Get over it already. Life happens.

Clara Noble, a nice older woman that laughed all the time. Who had that brain aneurysm, she had been so nice to Peter-

Get over it already. Life happens.

Dolores Basset drowning in the family pool-

Get over it already. Life happens.

Deaths that he must have caused, because Peter is the only common denominator in all of their lives and early deaths-

Get over it already. Life happens.

No, no, calm down. Peter reminds himself. It wasn't your fault. No one died because of you.

Tony wasn't- it didn't happen the same way. Neither of them are dead. This can be fixed. It's going to be okay.

He can take care of himself, he has been for so long. Everything is going to be okay.

It's different but it's the same.

It's not okay. Peter is NOT okay.

Endless sky. Ash. Can't breathe. Can't get away- Just like before.

Here!

Dark Alley. The cold made him tired. Is dying cold?

Look out!

Gunshot. Couldn't hold the blood in, his hands were too small-

Here Look Out Here Behind Front!

Peter backs up just as he hears the shuffle of a foot in a puddle. Too little too late, he paid attention to his spider-sense. An arm wraps around Peter's throat, yanking him backwards and pulling him off balance. He grabs at the wrist that squeezes his throat, and falls still when a gun is pressed against his temple. Inky shadows turn to faces in front of him, laughter piercing through the low buzz of his thoughts.

"-dumb kid." Someone is saying when Peter snaps back to attention. They flick Peter's forehead. "He doesn't have any money, look at him. He's like, eight years old."

"Shut up, you fucking loser." Peter growls, attempting to pry the arm off of him. It squeezes tighter. Peter almost freaks, almost tears it off of him, but he feels the pull of his muscles and knows he's about to rip skin off of bone and he freezes.

Oh god.

Peter almost did something fucking terrible.

He sucks in a short gasp and closes his eyes for a second. He can not lose his control and accidentally do that to someone. Ben would be so fucking disappointed in him, so ashamed to know him.

Think rationally, Peter.

He doesn't have his mask on, he can't pull any risky moves that would out him as a meta. With the rain mixing the smells around him, he's unsure if this group of guys are keeping bullets or not. He doesn't see any familiar faces, so it doesn't appear to be revenge for earlier that day. At least, that he can tell.

Likely unrelated. He might have to rely on just his spider-sense to tell whether these guys mean business or not. Peter needs to be calm if he wants to listen to his spider-sense, but calm is getting harder to hold onto after having an anxiety attack.

"My bad, my bad," The man snarks, and he clearly doesn't feel bad at all. "But what use is a twerp who ain't got any money?"

"Parents might," Another tells him. Peter is counting how many there are… One, two, three… five people. One's a woman, hanging towards the back as a look out. Wait, parents? "Where do you live, kid? Let's give mommy and daddy a visit."

"Go to hell." He bites, glaring at the men. He doesn't have sympathy for people who use kids as shields or for personal gain.

But he still can't hurt them. How does he get out of this one? Should he just go for it? Ugh, how could he be so stupid and get caught in this? He should have been paying attention- no, he shouldn't have left his room in the first place.

"How bout I take you with me?" The man replies. Peter sees the flash of a revolver in his hand and his body tenses, knowing the hit is about to come.

But his body freezes.

Ben, gunshot, his hands were too small-

Think, Peter, think! His eyes shut as the guy holding him squeezes tighter, cutting off his air. It's getting a little hard to breathe, and his hands are trembling. Weak, too weak.

Too weak.

Peter can't push (calm) back, he's not strong- calm- Not like an adult is. calm - His hands are too weak (calm) and he can't breathe-

calm down!

Peter bites down on his cheek. Focus!

"Shit!" The woman pushes through the group with a screech of terror. "Red Hood!"

Peter falls back onto concrete when the guy lets him go out of nowhere. He smells their fear cloud the air, and he slaps a hand over his ears as a shot rings out in the street. Too loud so loud holy shit why is everything so loud- A scream of pain cuts through him as a man falls next to Peter, there's a crunch when his mouth meets ground.

The man spits blood onto the concrete. His nose is jammed, crooked and pouring blood in a steady stream. The man's hand trembles, he glances to his right, at Peter. There's a crazed look in his eyes that makes everything scream at him back away get away!

Peter scrambles to get away from the man, but in his desperation, he grabs onto Peter's arm and swings him around, gun pressed against his temple. Peter ducks and pushes out of his grip just in time for another shot to hit the man's gun hand. He yowls in pain, the gun clattering onto the wet pavement

His spider-sense is ringing out, but he can't listen to it as it mixes with unseen memories. It feels like a wall as everything hits him all at once: CALM BLOOD TOO SMALL TOO WEAK CALM FOCUS GET AWAY RUN BAD BAD BAD BAD! Peter crawls away and towards the closest wall, his adrenaline spiking and his head swimming with voices. There's a thud of a fist hitting face and Peter flinches, ducks down and forces in a deep breath.

THINK!

Red Hood, Red Hood, Red Hood- That was-

Peter bites down on his lip, daring to look up at the fight, but it's more like a take down. A slaughter. They're all sprawled on the ground, and the only one with the upper-hand is a man in a leather jacket, his face obscured by some kind of red helmet. His back is facing Peter, taller than the muggers and more fierce.

Peter's mind is fuzzy as he tries to cool down from his panic, trying to remember he isn't a kid anymore.

He's Spider-Man, no one can hurt Spider-Man.

It's gonna be okay. He just has to think. Get it together, Parker.

Red Hood- that was- That's one of the villains that Peter read on the wiki. Right?

Yeah- that was- Deep breath, Peter.

Red Hood… That was the crime lord that was listed. He wanted to stay away from that guy, that's the one that had such an extensive list of crimes. Peter presses against the wall, hoping he looks too small for the man to notice he's there. Why? Why is he here? Why would he start attacking a random group of muggers? Is he gonna try to hurt Peter, too?

The silence is the worse part as the fist fight comes to an end. Peter's skin buzzes as he attempts to stick to the shadows near the wall. Get away get away get away. He peeks between his arms to find an escape route- sees one too late- when a voice calls out, "Are you okay?"

Peter flinches, daring to look up.

Red Hood is shaking his gloved hands out. Peter can hear how loud his heart is from here, and it's not just from the fight, or the adrenaline. Peter can't tell who he's talking to, because surely, a villain like that wouldn't be worried about Peter.

But he's wrong, apparently. Red Hood turns his way, obviously looking right at him, and Peter sinks back into the wall some more, his voice caught in his throat. For a split second, the helmet covering his face looks so much like the Iron Man suit in the yellow street light.

…?…

He's got blood on his boots, his pants, his knuckles. And there's a bunch of people around him holding onto their gunshot wounds, groaning in pain. He'd read about a duffle bag with 8 heads in it. For all these reasons, Peter should still be terrified.

However, Peter's spider senses calm down as soon as Red Hood turns his attention on him.

Everything falls silent. The panic is gone, replaced instead by the aftermath of adrenaline and surprise. None of the loud buzzing from before lingers. It's just him and his spider-sense, and that almost scary calm it has towards someone who is supposed to be a crime lord.

Either Peter is broken, or he's wrong about this guy. Or Gotham is a fucked up, crazy mess in ways he hadn't even accounted for.

Something about Peter's silence, or maybe how he's still trying to get against the wall, makes Red Hood crouch down. He gets smaller, balancing on his toes in a squat in front of Peter, putting his weapons on the ground.

"Are you okay?" He repeats, his voice growing softer than before.

Oh.

Peter nods, not exactly trusting his voice at the moment.

Red Hood nods back, but it might be more for himself than for Peter. He's looking at the muggers on the ground, and Peter recognizes the anger, that tenseness in his shoulders. But…

…not Peter…?…

He's not angry at Peter. That's… good. Yeah, that's good. His voice is low as he touches his ear, as if he doesn't want Peter to hear it. Of course, Peter still does. "Get someone over here to deal with these."

Police? Peter gulps down his nerves and assesses how far he could run away on shaky limbs. Not very far, he thinks. He's still technically panicking, even if it's not at the forefront of his mind anymore.

Why does he always have to get attacked during an emotional freak-out? Can't the bad guys take an hour off just for once?

Red Hood puts his weapons back into his belt and stands up, but he's keeping his shoulders hunched as he gets closer to Peter. His voice is a murmur, barely able to come through because the helmet muffles his voice. There's a voice modulator on there, and the similarities between he and Iron Man are no more.

"Let's get you away from here, yeah?"

Peter again nods dumbly, wondering if he should rely on his spider-sense this much. But it says that Red Hood is safe safe safe, and he's clearly trying not to scare him more than he was. Red Hood reaches low to grab Peter's hand, and Peter grips it a little harder than he meant to.

The man- and he certainly is a grown up, because he's tall like one and broad shouldered like Bucky but he's kind of built like a tank- smooths back his hair with the hand that's clear of blood. It's a simple move that could just be for comfort, but Peter's been in enough fights to know that his mentors do that to subtly check if Peter got a head wound they don't know about. He leads Peter farther from the group, before looping an arm under his and grabbing something from his belt.

A grappling hook. Peter recognizes it's the same type that Nightwing had used, as well as Red Robin, Spoiler, and potentially Batman. Red Hood reaches out towards a taller building in sight, and he runs to pull Peter along. Peter grips on tightly to his leather jacket, having not expected they were going up on a roof. Red Hood drops him to sit on the side of the building, then pulls himself up as well. He sits right next to Peter, unhooking the grappling hook and setting it to the side.

From up here, they can keep an eye on the muggers that attacked him. Sirens wail in the distance. And all Peter can think to ask is:

"How are ambulance fees covered here?"

Red Hood is quiet and he doesn't move for a few seconds. He then turns to look at Peter, and in the most incredulous tone Peter has heard so many times before, asks, "What?"

There's a voice from Red Hood's comm, that Peter shouldn't be able to hear. "What?"

"They're clearly broke." Peter replies to both of them.

"That's your concern right now?"

"It's not a concern. I'm just curious." They fall into another bout of silence. "…I'm assuming that means you don't know."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Red Hood reaches up as if to pinch the bridge of his nose, but only meets metal. He instead runs his hand over the top as if he's messing with his hair. But he's bald right now. "Is this the shock talking?"

"Probably." Peter replies, looking at his feet. There's blood on his shoe. His Good Luck shoes. "There's a good chance. But I also just say wack shit sometimes."

"What were you doin' out walkin' at this hour? You know there's a curfew for a reason, right?" Red Hood sounds angry, so Peter thinks he should cool it with the jokes. But also, he can't tell if he's angry at Peter or at something else. He might be angry at Peter. His spider-sense argues otherwise. His common sense, too.

"I needed a stroll." Peter says, immediately backing out on not telling jokes. Who is he without his whimsy? "A walk around the block. Clear the mind."

"You could have died." The man crime lord guy presses, like the hypocrite he might maybe is, possibly. He talks with his hands a lot. "Or have been seriously injured. What if I wasn't there?"

Then those guys would have met a Peter who had a hard time holding back a punch.

He bites down that retort. "Shit happens."

Red Hood stares at him. Is this how people feel when Peter looks at them in the Spider-Man costume? It's hard to tell what someone is thinking based on body language and no facial features to watch. And Peter put a lot of effort into reading faces. Maybe he should put that on his costume… like, maybe the eyes could move around, and tell them what he's trying to express.

Focus.

"Where's your parents? Why would they let you walk out at night?"

Peter was hoping that wouldn't come up, but that's just his luck. "My dad is- He's… out, right now. He didn't know."

"Out? Out where?"

"Somewhere." Peter turns away from him, looking down the other street.

He sees the flash of Bat go by.

A short second of a swing that Peter shouldn't have seen. There's a familiar (by now, Peter thinks he knows) heartbeat in the shadows behind a billboard above them, far away. Peter shouldn't be able to see him, and it takes everything in him not to stare at Batman while he tries to figure out what he's doing here.

And that's when it hits Peter who this guy is. Peter glances back at Red Hood, and he wonders how he could have jumped to assumptions that this was a villain.

There's a huge red bat symbol on his chest. He's another Bat.

Of course.

They've been stalking him for days now, so why wouldn't tonight be the same? They were here because they were watching him, looking for him. Looking out for him? This is debatable.

And man, Peter isn't mad, but he is frustrated that he doesn't know the exact reason why they're following him. He doesn't want to think anymore and try to understand adults and their motivations. He's so tired of doing that.

"So you have no idea where he is?" Red Hood doesn't sound like he's asking, but more pointing this out to Peter. Like Peter should fully understand how stupid it is. But the thing is, Peter knows.

"Why the hell would he just leave you alone?"

Now that hits Peter harder than it should have. He doesn't know. Don't blow up.

"When did he leave you-?"

"He's coming for me!" Peter shouts, blowing up anyways. He jumps up from the side of the roof and Red Hood's arms rocket forward as if to catch him. But it's seconds and Peter has already backed away from Red Hood, away from the ledge and instead on solid roof. Red Hood grabs the empty air, hesitates, and turns his head to stare at Peter (watching). The anger bubbling up is a mix of all things- he can't let anyone think bad of Tony, because they have no idea what happened.

But the anxiety chips away at him. It has been for days now.

You're alone. You can't call for help.

"He wouldn't leave me, he knows I can't do that again!" Peter says, and it's more like he's begging Red Hood to understand- for all these Bats to understand. Because they've been following him around for that, now he's sure. They don't suspect Peter is trouble, they suspect he's in it.

Peter fights back the lump in his throat but his voice cracks anyway. "He promised. Don't talk about him like that!"

Red Hood holds his hand up as if Peter was going to attack. Which would be hilarious, if Peter wasn't so emotional and angry right now. Red Hood has no reason to believe Peter could hurt him- Peter looks like a twig next to a boulder.

"Hey, I'm sorry." Red Hood tells him, and it sounds so genuine that Peter almost blue screens. "I can tell you really care about him."

I can tell you really care about him.

He still doesn't believe Peter. And why would he? In their eyes, Tony has left Peter to the dogs, dropped him in Gotham for a reason they don't know. He had shown up with bruises- it's all obvious, but when Peter tries to think about telling them what is really going on, he thinks They aren't my team.

They aren't- he doesn't know them. He knows all of the tells of his teammates, and they know his. He can trust the Avengers because they've trained and they eat together and they live in the same damn building. Unpredictable adults are the scariest ones. And Peter- he can do this alone. He doesn't need help.

Too stubborn for your own good.

Peter knows that Tony wouldn't… He wouldn't leave him alone. Not on purpose.

(And then there's that feeling, that reminder that he knows what it's like to be laying on a lab table and someone hovering over him, testing if he was going to die or not with unfamiliar chemicals in his system. Trying to see what will kill him. And Peter couldn't fight back, but he also couldn't die like a normal kid.

That reminder that Peter ran from foster care because he knew not only that no one would believe him, but that if they found out he was a mutant, they'd send him away to do exactly that.

No metas in Gotham.

He can't do that again.)

Red Hood doesn't know. Peter thinks bitterly, and he once again feels angry at himself for shouting. He snapped at Nightwing, too, and now he has to apologize twice.

"…Sorry," Peter mutters, but he doesn't get closer to Red Hood. "But Tony's not a bad guy. You and the other bats gotta know that."

Red Hood tilts his head, and Peter scoffs under his breath. Peter, not wanting to admit he can tell they're stalking him, decides on another excuse.

"Nightwing didn't believe me either."

And that's the oh moment for Red Hood. The man sighs, leaning over to put his head in his hand as he thinks about it. Peter has to fill the silence. They need to know- Or is Peter just scared that he'll forget it, if he doesn't defend Tony?

"He cares about me. He wouldn't leave me unless he had to. He's the best foster dad I've ever had, and I won't let you guys think he's not." Peter practically begs, knowing the others can probably hear him on the comms. "He never hits me, and I don't even get scared when he yells, and he's- he's not here right now but it isn't his fault, and you guys just don't get it."

Red Hood picks his head up. "You're right, I don't get it."

Peter can't decide on what Red Hood might be thinking. It's because of that damned mask, Peter can't read his face. He chews his bottom lip, wondering if he's said too much, or too little, or- or he doesn't know.

This was a mistake. He should have just taken the roofs if he wanted to clear his mind. Maybe he would have just run into a Bat and not get into all of this. His mind wouldn't be fresh off of a panic attack, and just swirling with insecurity. He knows how to hide insecurity better than panic.

"Gotham isn't a good place for kids." Red Hood tells him. He's looking down at the street where the muggers are. Peter can't see them from this angle anymore, but he can hear the ambulances loading up. "They get hurt, or they get dragged into something they don't understand."

"I'm not a baby, and I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were either of those things, now did I?" Red Hood retorts. "If we can keep just one kid from getting caught up in a fucked up situation, then that's what we try to do."

Peter stares at the back of the man's head. It feels like eyes are on him from all over, and that's without his spider senses murmuring in his ear: watching watching watching..

He should tell them.

His spider-senses are telling him that Red Hood is safe. His common sense is too, because none of the Bats have hurt him. (Yet?) But spider-senses can't tell him whether or not to place trust into someone, that's all up to him, and his own deduction skills.

Just because Red Hood doesn't mean harm to him right now, doesn't mean that that couldn't change if he or the Bats find out he's a meta.

No. No he shouldn't tell them.

"I'm not in trouble." Peter says, and it's a lie. He wonders if Red Hood can tell.

"But you'd tell someone, if you were?"

It feels like he knows Peter is lying.

"Yeah. I would."

Peter was allowed to get off of the roof when everyone was gone. He could tell that he was being watched all the way back to his room, so he stayed on foot and even pretended the door to get inside was heavy. He sped up the staircase, quiet so as to not wake Benny, and he shut his blinds as soon as he got in his room.

So… now they know where he's living.

This is totally fine.

In the morning, after getting a decent night's rest on a bed and not on concrete, Peter felt better than he had in days. Which sucks, because it basically is just saying that Peter needed to sleep properly and that is why he was losing his shit. But whatever- he now knows that he'll just have to get used to his living arrangement over time, and all will be chill again.

For the next three days, he stays inside for the most part, not wanting to repeat what happened before… maybe hoping the Bats would get off his case if they saw he wasn't "being reckless" anymore. He thought that with the recent event, the Bats would stick around to test exactly that, but he turned out to be wrong. Peter felt the stalking wane from two Bats a night to none.

Batman wasn't strolling by anymore during the night to loom over Benny's restaurant, and if someone did, it was Red Robin. Last night, no one stopped by at all. So… There weren't as many eyes on him.

He convinces himself that this was a good thing- that's what he wanted. Sure, he sort of wonders if the opportunity to get help was just thrown out of the window. But the more rational side of himself says that he made a good call.

"Don't trust that spidey-sense all the time, Peter." He imitates Natasha's voice as he sits at his desk, and quite well if he does say so, and he do. "You never know how fast intentions can shift."

He hums back at his own words as he hunches over his desk, picking at the project in his hands as he replies, "But what if they really are good people?"

Peter pauses his work, looking up at the ceiling.

"I'm talking to myself. Again. Geez, isolation does wonders on my psyche."

He shrugs off the slight-crazy tendencies that appear when he's by himself too long (because this is nothing new, and he knows that), focusing instead on his newest project. Because it's super important that he gets this done today.

The second night after he talked to Red Hood, Peter sensed the villain nearby again. But he could also tell that Red Robin was close as well, and he decided it wasn't worth the risk. It was way too soon, and he also didn't even have a plan on how to capture the guy yet. He's had lesson after lesson drilled into his skull on not being reckless, and while he will admit that he is very much still reckless, he's done better at looking for the "will this work out in the long-run" plans than the "fuck it, we ball" mentality he used to have. While not totally gone, Peter knows better than to fight someone who has the advantage on him.

Spider-senses can only get him so far. That's what he has to remind himself, near constantly. Natasha says that he relies on them too much, but it's a hard habit to break. Peter had never thought that it could be unreliable, because he's used it as a tool for so long, and it's kept him safe and alive so far.

But it isn't the only part of Peter that can be reliable.

Tony will sometimes knock twice on his forehead, and he'll grumble, "Kid, you've got this for a reason." Which translates to "Peter, you're very smart, and you should trust yourself more than you do." in Tony speak. At least, that's what Pepper and Dr. Banner told him it meant, and he's inclined to agree because Tony hadn't done anything to reject the idea, and instead he had deflected the conversation to what they should have for lunch.

So, in an effort to follow the advice of his mentors, Peter used his brain.

This villain has the advantage over Peter because Peter doesn't have the ability to combat those jumps. Which means that Peter should level the playing field, right?

He's just as capable of using some backyard junks of metal (and Benny's old tool kit) to create something that will put them on the same level, at least for now. He still has shit to do about how weirdly strong that guy is- he must be enhanced- but he can figure that out better when he gets into the fight itself. There isn't enough information to go on for his strength.

What Peter is working on now (because he finished his comm), is a wrist piece much like that villains in design, but Peter's has a different effect. He couldn't replicate the spacial jumping- not without getting a look at the thing up close, like he really, really wants to.-

(Because holy shit, you know? Peter thought that without magic, humans would have to use a particle accelerator to even think about crossing dimensional thresholds. But this guy managed to stick it to his wrist! Peter's so jealous right now he wants to scream!)

-But he can make a device that senses the pressure in the air caused by his jumps.

It wasn't too hard, really. Peter just came to the conclusion that the jumps impacted the air surrounding the spacial jumper, it's a simple case of displacement of matter. When this guy suddenly left a space, the air would converge inwards where he had been, and when he appeared somewhere, the air would shift outwards- it would cause a rapid change in air pressure and temperature. The jumps don't take more than a few seconds, but they have to be causing reactions in the air, it's simple science.

There's a pressure wave, one that Peter is sort of able to detect with his sixth sense, but would be better suited for this tech of his. It'll also detect the temperature changes and air displacement, energy fluctuations, the like.

So… sort of like a weather radar of some kind, in that aspect. A weather radar that's made of a laptop and a toaster he found in a garbage can, but it's something. His first webshooters had been made using junkyard parts as well. RIP to the furby that helped him out with that.

He thinks he'll call it the Jumping Radar, or something. Maybe an acronym could be cool, like Tony does? He… Can't think of anything in particular. He'll come up with a cooler name. Probably. For now, Jumping Radar will have to do.

Instead of keeping it on his wrist, because his webshooters always have dibs on that space, Peter instead decided to make this device attach to his forearm. He moves his arm up and down now, checking to see if it would slip around. Junkyard parts aren't the most stable when it comes to this. He wishes he had Stark Tech right about now, but old school is fine, and sort of makes him nostalgic in a good way.

It's not done, though. He's missing a few parts that he won't find in a junkyard, he'll have to figure out where a hardware store is; Benny might be kind enough to tell him. And he still needs to test it properly. He should start making a map, too…

Actually, there's a more pressing matter at hand that Peter needs to deal with before he tests his prototype.

Just because Batman and the others appear to have backed off, doesn't mean that they did. If Peter wants to make sure that Batman isn't still on his case, he's going to have to get a little payback stalking in.

It would complicate things if Batman followed Peter around and he either missed his chance to fight/find the hide out, or Batman jumped into the fight and messed with Peter's chances. Surely, the man wouldn't mind. Peter just needs to do a little digging around, it's nothing personal.

(He's so not going to enjoy this…

Ok, maybe a little.)

Peter puts the Jumping Radar in his backpack, zipping it up tight and leaving it on his desk. He makes sure to keep some money on him (nothing crazy, just enough) and pauses when he makes his way to the window. He hangs there on the sill, staring at his backpack with one foot out on the fire escape.

Should… Peter suit up?

Nahhh. That would be a bad idea.

If Batman is able to find Peter as easily as Peter is able to find Batman, then he shouldn't introduce Spidey to Gotham just yet. It would get Batman on his case as an unsanctioned vigilante and potential threat. No, much easier to explain Peter being out than Spidey- Peter is already known for taking walks around Gotham at night.

Right. Not this time- Peter isn't ready yet. He apologizes to his suit and ducks out onto the fire escape. He does, however, keep his webshooters on his wrist, hidden under his jacket sleeves. They look like black wrist warmers unless someone gets right up close, so that'll be fine.

He takes a couple leaps and a few skips onto the roofs, getting back into the (not) swing of things. If he wasn't going around as Peter, he would have just swung around, but he supposes it's a good idea to brush up his parkour skills.

He weaves around the jangled mess of buildings of the Upper East Side, almost like a dance of stone and pipe and bad advertisements on billboards.

Gotham has a different work than New York, what with all of these old, old buildings around. New York certainly has the old buildings, but nothing like this. This feels like it's straight out of that Hunchback of Natre Dame movie. There are gargoyles on the roofs and battlements that he passes by, each one their own type of unique.

A lot of the buildings look like cathedrals, the apartments close together. But then sometimes, like right now, as Peter stands atop a roof and looks down at a city that reminds him of the black and white photos of the Industrial Revolution. It's like Gotham has stepped out of multiple time periods- or, no, all the time periods settled in one place, rather than having the city move on.

Peter is surprised by how fast it was to feel a Bat nearby. He follows the tingle of his spider senses- which, is weirdly happy to know that a Bat is nearby, based on its hello!- and ducks into the shadows as he climbs the wall, five blocks away from Benny's. Are they nearby because of Peter? Or is this unrelated?

Voices float down from above him, and Peter tilts his head to the side as he listens.

"Red Robin-"

"Oh, come on, B. Just look at this little face."

"You can not take it home."

Peter was wondering about the third, tiny heartbeat. Scaling up the side of the building, Peter presses himself flat and peeks over. Far enough away from where Peter is to not notice him, Batman and Red Robin are standing together. Red Robin is hunched over a small orange cat that has a clipped ear, purring loudly in his hands. Batman is pretending to be apathetic to this scene, but Peter hears the small amusement in his tone.

"We have far too many animals at the home already."

"We can afford it. You let Robin take home whatever animal he wants."

"I do not, otherwise we would have three turkeys." What? "There's a shelter nearby here that can take him in."

They're just gonna breeze past that? Peter wants to know about the turkeys!

Red Robin scoffs, picking up the cat to show Batman. "How do you know it's a boy?"

"Orange cats are not typically female."

"Boooo," Red Robin gives Batman a thumbs down.

Peter risks it and hops onto the roof, creeping upwards through pipes and metal on the top of the building. He crawls around a narrow passage of grate and wall and shimmies up to the top of the billboard. He swings his legs over the side and drops down silently to the metal walkway. He crouches low, and when they show no signs of noting Peter's presence, he ends up sitting on the edge of the blacked out billboard, perfectly content in the shadows.

His eyes roam over the scene again from a newer perspective, up above them.

The city from up here is alive, more so than the five blocks back where Peter usually tromps around on the roofs. There's railroad tracks down the street, and the (overwhelming) smells of the city below are muted. Twinkling lights from apartments and office buildings blink back at Peter, watching him too.

Gotham does feel alive, in a sense. Queens felt like he could know her, talk to her. Gotham, on the other hand, feels like he would never truly understand her, because he's not from here. He just hopes that she takes a liking to him.

Red Robin sighs and sets down the cat at Batman's murmur. The cat curls up on the ground lazy as can be, tail twitching idly. The younger vigilante sits down on the edge of the building, almost mirroring Peter's own sitting position. Peter is much more relaxed than the other, one knee brought up to support his chin, his arm tucked around it to hold it close. Red Robin sits up straight, both hands next to him and feet against the wall of the building as if ready to jump at a moment's notice.

Batman sits next to Red Robin the same way. They could be related, Peter thinks, just based on body language alone. That, and/or have worked together for a long time. There is a short distance that Batman tries to make up for by leaning towards the younger, just ever so slightly. If he wasn't Peter, he wouldn't have noticed it.

Peter recognizes a stakeout when he sees one. He's been on plenty himself before, waiting for Black Cat to strike. She's never really set herself up as going for the most expensive heist- at least, not yet, since she's learning-, but she does like to get creative with how she steals and what she steals. So Peter ends up doing a lot of stake outs in weird places every time he catches wind of something she might like to grab.

He understands why they chose this spot- they're just far enough out of sight that no one else could see them if they were looking up from the street, but they have the advantage of seeing the street in front of them and the two side streets crossing through it.

However, Peter hasn't really staked out a place like this before. It's a far cry from where Black Cat would strike, and is more like where some folks would hang out if they were looking for trouble. In front of the building they're camped out at, there's a sketchy looking bar with blacked out windows on the third and fourth stories. The fifth story has lights on and no black out curtains, save for one room on the far right.

He wonders who they're waiting for here. Is it one of the city's various rogues? Who was it that is out and about again…? Two-Face, for sure. He's heard about some Killer Croc guy… and Firefly. That's the one someone was saying they were worried about being in public spaces for because he's prone for setting bombs.

Doesn't seem like a Killer Croc would choose this place, it's not exactly the sewers or deviously crowded. Maybe Firefly is known to frequent the bar? He's not a meta from what Peter hears, just an arsonist. But if it's a rogue, he'd count on that Two-Face guy. But it's not like they only take down rogues, so there could be someone else down there. Oh- maybe a gang? Mafia? Peter has heard a few stories in passing. Benny mentioned a Black Mask at dinner the other night.

Peter settles that thought to the back of his mind and watches Batman, trying to get a sense of who the Bat is outside of rumors and distant footsteps in the shadows.

He's heard that Batman can be ruthless, that he doesn't kill but can leave someone so much worse. He's heard that people think he's secretly a meta, secretly a vampire, secretly secretly secrets. No one can get a read on what Batman is like outside of his appearances for fights, unless saved by him personally. But even then, they'd say he was intimidating, he was like seeing the night. But Peter is watching him now, and he's…

Batman is awkward.

That's Peter's first real impression of the guy. Red Robin is semi-relaxed (or as relaxed as these two can be, apparently? Whatever it is, it's showing that he's more comfortable than Bats is). And it's not like Batman is showing off tells of being uncomfortable. He's not shifting around, his gaze is set on one spot, and he's not clearing his throat.

It's a suspicion at first. It's sort of like watching Sam try to think of something to talk about with Peter that isn't hero-related stuff. It's when Batman opens his mouth that Peter's suspicion is confirmed.

"There is something I wanted to ask you."

Red Robin tenses, an almost imperceptible movement. Peter winces in sympathy.

"Yeah?"

"Are you doing anything in November?"

Almost all of the tension leaves Red Robin, and he cracks a small grin. Peter tilts his head, curious of the reaction. What was Red Robin thinking he'd ask? "No, I'll be free. I know that Spoiler and Signal have been talking about going somewhere the first week of December, I can help them crack down any open cases before they leave."

"Hm." Is Batman's first reply. Then, added as if trying not to back out: "You don't have to do that."

Red Robin finally tears his eyes away from the street below and towards Batman in confusion. "I… know?"

"I meant that…" Geez, is this how the Big Bad Bat acts when he's not in a fight, or…? "Well, there's a skateboarding competition in November. It's in Tampa. You had been planning to go last year, but…"

The silence grows between them for a long time. Almost too long. Peter tries not to wince at how long Red Robin is leaving Batman out to dry here, but it's hard not to. What happened last year that Red Robin couldn't go to the competition? Also- Red Robin skateboards? That's kinda cool, actually. Peter wants to try skateboarding but Tony and Pepper keep saying that Peter's insane balance might not transfer to wheels. Which is stupid, but whatever. When Red Robin doesn't say anything, Batman speaks again.

"I can get two tickets. Nightwing already assured me he would be in Gotham."

"Oh?"

Batman clears his throat. "We could go for the week."

"You- You want to go?" And wow, it sounds like Batman doesn't have a lot of fun. Red Robin sounds like he's heard the man say something bizarre, like that he wants to use puppies and rainbows for his next Batmobile aesthetic. It sounded normal to Peter. Guy wants to go hang out with his… teammate? Kid? Gotta be his kid. Maybe.

"Yes."

"…It would be just us?"

"Yes."

Red Robin looks back at the street, as if he's actually having to think it over. If this was Peter, he would have already said "Hell yes!" if Tony had offered. He'd be bouncing around trying to think of where they can go for an entire week, just them. But Red Robin is hesitant, like he doesn't know what to do with it.

There's a history here Peter isn't aware of, he thinks. What was supposed to just be a fun moment of stalking and maybe learning what they had on him turned into Peter being an eavesdropping eavesdropper. This is a little too personal for Peter to be listening in on…

He should go, maybe?

Yeah, he should go. There might be another Bat out tonight that Peter can stalk. Peter stands up to do just that when Red Robin speaks again.

"Did Nightwing ask you to do this?"

"No."

The answer is very fast, very short and determined. It's a lot for just one word. Peter pauses, not managing to uproot his feet but able to tear his eyes away from where they are. He observes the alley way from here, watches a distant train go by.

Why isn't he moving?

"He doesn't know about it. Not yet, anyway. I imagine I would have to tell him that." Batman assures Red Robin. "It was my idea. I saw the competition was coming up, and I remembered what you said about wanting to go. I… want to go with you. It's been too long since we did something as just us."

"It- Not that long. We sat together yesterday."

"We worked together yesterday. We work together a lot. What I meant was that it's been too long since it was just us, doing something outside of work. Or outside of Gotham." Red Robin's lack of reply must scare Batman off, because he starts to retract his statement. "If you… do not want to g-"

"I do." Red Robin sits up straighter, his full attention on Batman. The older vigilante has also turned his eye away from the street. The only indication that they are still focused on the bar they're staking out is that they turn their heads ever so slightly every couple of seconds. "I do, I- I would like to go. I just… I mean, I didn't expect that… I didn't think you would want to go to something like that. Or… I don't know."

"You didn't think I would want to spend time with you."

OUCH. Peter and Red Robin both wince.

"That's not-"

"I'm sorry." Batman interrupts, and Red Robin promptly shuts his mouth. "That would be my fault. After everything… We were close, when you were Robin. The beginning was rough, but you… You are my son, and I should never have let it get this bad."

"B, are you feeling okay?" The words almost fall out of Red Robin's mouth.

"I'm learning to apologize." Batman doesn't rise to the deflection. For some reason, this makes Red Robin grin. Inside joke, Peter supposes. "Time has not been kind to us. You were alone for far too long, shouldering a weight on your own that you should never have had to hold. I don't want you to feel like you are alone anymore. I missed you. I feel like I still miss you, even when you're next to me."

He misses Red Robin's reaction to that. He misses what they say next to each other. Peter sucks in a short breath, closing his eyes and trying to muffle the sounds of the world. It's too much like how Tony spoke to Peter- in a more direct way than Tony had said it, sure, but… It's the same sentiment.

"I don't want you to feel alone."

He grits his teeth, shaking his head and taking a step back, his back almost pressed against the billboard now. Red Robin is smiling, and Batman is ruffling his hair, and Peter wishes he hadn't come out to watch them anymore. He doesn't know why- something about the scene strikes him as too frustrating. Too annoying.

He wouldn't admit it, but he was hoping Batman would turn out to be a huge jerk. Someone Peter wouldn't be comfortable working with, someone that Peter should avoid. He wanted to have a damn good reason that he isn't asking for their help. He wanted the no meta rule to make sense, along with Batman being this evil guy who would never work with Peter.

Now, it makes Peter feel childish to want to hold back like he is, planning out his escape. To want to be alone, and figure this out alone. And it's all stupid Batman's fault because he's trying to connect with his son, trying to show him he's not alone, and that he cares.

Seriously, this guy sucks.

And is so confusing.

Peter barely holds back making a noise to voice his displeasure and he takes off.

He doesn't want to watch anymore, there's nothing valuable that he's getting. He tries and tries to place what it is that has him so worked up as he lands in an alley behind the building and stuffs his hands in his jacket.

look it

He doesn't get the time to think about it. His head snaps to the left.

He's in a long section of buildings whose back doors face each other. On the other side are restaurants and buildings that face out towards the street, and where Peter just came from were apartments. There's some scattered dumpsters (the smell is so repugnant that Peter is breathing shallowly), and a couple of alley cats.

Nothing interesting catches his eye, but he stands in wait. There's a couple seconds where Peter is wondering if the cats were the reason for the warning bells going off- they do look mighty hungry enough to chase a skinny 14 year old human(ish)- but then a door bursts open and a group of people come tumbling out.

A woman hits the ground, a choked sound escaping her. She lands halfway in a puddle and it takes seconds before a large woman is yanking the other girl up by her hair. "Guess we'll show you who you're cheating."

There's a gaggle of others with them, six from Peter's count. One of them is smoking a joint, a few hold their own beer cans, watching the scene as if watching two kids play fight. Peter takes three steps forward before he remembers:

He's not wearing his suit.

Cursing his own damn decision, Peter observes the alley and its inhabitants again. He could go break it up- the woman lets out a whimper as a knife is pulled- but he's still very obviously going to get caught if he does that. Batman and Red Robin are literally just a roof away, and any second they could swoop in and Peter will be forced to find out what happens to metas here.

But then again… There's a Bat and a Robin on the rooftop above.

Peter doesn't think twice, he doesn't have the time for that. He takes off down the alley the opposite direction of the attackers and their victim, then skirts a fast right again down another alley about five buildings down. He makes it look like he's just come around the corner from the road and he starts his way through the crowd of people on the street. His ears strain to keep track of where the woman is, his spidey sense hissing in his ear.

It doesn't take much to make it look like Peter is in a rush, because he is. He hurries without actually breaking into a run, glancing down the buildings to check where he's going.

watching watching watching

When Peter knows they've spotted him, he ducks into the correct alley. And then he breaks out into a run, trying to get closer in case they try to stop him. He hears the softest patter of feet following him from above just as he comes to a stop in front of the attack.

It was about thirty seconds, and Peter is so thankful that the knife hadn't been used yet- at least, not on the woman's skin. Her hair has been cut, brown locks in the puddle and a hand clasped over her mouth. Peter stands there almost, like, dumbly, because he hadn't thought this far ahead, and all eyes land on him.

"Tha fuck's a kid doin' here?" One of the men laugh.

"Go on, brat. Git outta here." Another waves his hand, but someone else grabs his wrist and shakes his head, a grin spreading on his face.

"Nah, wait, this could be fun. Don' this chick got a kid at home?"

Oh, shit.

Alright, not expected. He hadn't thought this through, but he can handle it.

Peter takes a step back, making the mistake of locking eyes with the woman. She's horrified, her eyes wide and she manages to get her mouth free from under that hand and shouts at Peter in such a desperate voice he'll remember it for years.

"Run!"

One step back from Peter.

Three steps forward from one of the guys in the group.

And one bright figure drops in between them, grabbing the man's wrist and yanking him down onto the ground in a swift and exact movement.

Red Robin presses his foot onto the man's back, pulling his arm back at a painful angle. The man yelps and attempts to get free only for it to make the hold hurt worse. The larger woman who had the woman in her grasp lets go and makes a run for it to the left. Her friends have the same idea. They all tuck tails and scatter, Joint pushing through the door and Beer Number One slipping on the steps to get up.

Knife doesn't get but a couple feet away. A dark shadow falls over the alley, and boots collide with concrete. She runs straight into a kevlar vest and bounces back, unable to catch herself and slipping on the wet concrete.

Psycho (the one who was going to get Peter involved, fuck that guy in particular) is unconscious on the ground. Two more follow suit and Peter unfreezes as the fight unfolds. He grabs the victim's cold hands and drags her away from the fight, kneeling down on the ground in front of her and shielding her from the others, his back facing them.

"What're you still doin' here!?" She shouts at him, but she's holding so tight to his hand as if he'll disappear.

"Are you injured?" He asks, but he's already started checking. Her head seems fine, there's no blood. Her hair isn't in the same state, half of it is chopped off in large chunks. Her cheek is mottled with harsh red marks from repeated blows, her nose is dripping blood and a steady stream of tears run down her cheeks.

"You-You shoulda ran!"

"I don't know if you noticed-" There's a shout and one of the men hits the nearest dumpster and there's a crack sound that Peter didn't need advanced hearing to notice. "-but Batman and Red Robin are here."

"But you- you didn't run."

"Run and leave you there?" Peter takes both her hands in his. She's not actually all that much older than Peter, she's probably around 17, maybe 18. She's shaking all over and Peter doesn't believe she's aware that she is. "Not a chance."

She shakes her head, blinking tears away. "Yer crazy… Thank you."

Peter hopes his grin comes off as assuring- it's easier in the mask, where people can imagine he's smiling and comforting. She ducks her head onto his shoulder and he sets one hand on her shoulder. "It's gonna be alright now. You're okay, just take a deep breath. Focus on my breathing."

She does, albeit it takes a minute. When she's got the hang of it, Peter chances a glance over his shoulder. Batman and Red Robin are standing over four people, zip-tieing each of their wrists. Two got away during the scatter, the fucking weasels. Peter will try to remember their faces for later. The woman is still trembling like she's violently cold.

"Do you really got a kid at home?" Peter returns his attention to her.

She blinks at him, not expecting the question. Then she nods. "M-My son, Noah."

"How old is he?"

"He- Two. He's gonna be two, in a few days."

"What? Really?" Peter sits rather than kneels now. Her heartbeat is still erratic, but she's making her way towards calm enough. "That's fantastic! You know, a lot of people say that, it's like, what it's called? The terrible twos? I think that's bogus, 'cause I had a foster sibling once who was around that age, and she was the sweetest angel ever."

This gets a chuckle out of her. "Noah's always so calm."

watching

hello!

Peter looks up as the shadow falls over them. Batman watches them for a couple of seconds, a curious tilt to his head that's almost not there at all. He kneels down in front of them both, hunching his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller.

He hasn't gotten a chance to see Batman up close, even with the stalking a few minutes ago. The cowl makes it impossible to tell what he's thinking, so Peter has to rely on body language. Even then, it's like he purposefully covers it up, so no one can read him. He's definitely looking at Peter though, he can feel the man's eyes watching him, but it looks like he's watching the woman.

"There is a clinic nearby that can treat your wounds, if you would rather not take an ambulance." His voice is much gruffer than when he was speaking to Red Robin, but not harsh either.

"I-I'm really not hurt. My nose isn't broken." She sits up fully, still holding Peter's hands. She makes eye contact with Batman for a second, looks away, then tries again a couple times.

"They will help you for free, courtesy of Wayne."

"I'll be okay. Thank you, Batman. And Red Robin too," She finds it easier to look over Peter's shoulder at the other vigilante. "I just want to get home."

"I'll take you." Red Robin offers. Peter stands up, careful to go slow to help the woman stand with him. "I want to make sure you get home safe, if that's alright."

"I…" She hesitates, then looks right at Peter. "Will you be alright?"

Peter wasn't expecting the question. "Of course." He replies easily. "There's Batman right here. Unless one of the many psychos of the city pop up out of that dumpster, I think it's generally safe."

"Generally?" She prompts, a small smile on her lips.

"There's never a 100% chance." Peter shrugs.

She laughs then, and Peter is grateful for it. It's not a hearty thing, but it's simple enough that it means she's actually doing okay. "I- Alright. You take care, hear me? And next time, run."

"Uh huh, sure." Peter nods placatingly, cause ain't no way he's doing that. When she lets go of Peter's hands and follows Red Robin down the alley, Batman follows the movement between them. There's a shared glance between the vigilantes that Peter pretends not to notice.

With a wave goodbye, the woman and Red Robin are taking off using his grapple, leaving just Peter and Batman standing there.

Awkwardly.

Quietly.

Peter hates the quiet.

Peter puts his hands in his pockets and starts to whistle a little tune. He thinks it's the Wild Krattz theme song, but he's not quite sure. Sue him, he's got a lot on his mind. Batman's full attention snaps towards him.

"…Are you hurt?"

"Nah." Peter shakes his head smally. Batman's lips are pressed into a thin line.

"She was right. That was incredibly reckless of you not to run away. You could have been injured, or worse. What if we hadn't been here to help? Your family would have lost you."

As if Peter hadn't gotten this same type of lecture before. Why were you out walking, Peter? Where's your family, Peter? You could have gotten hurt, Peter. What if we hadn't been here? What if, what if what if.

What if Peter hadn't been here to help that woman? What if he had just stayed inside, and in another life, Noah never got to grow up with his mom?

And another thing- Batman knows damn well that Peter doesn't have family like that.

"You were here to help. So I guess we won't know." Peter grins up at him- probably a spiteful little thing, too much like he's being an asshole for no reason. Happy swears he picked it up from Tony, but Peter's always been something of a brat, in his opinion.

There's a few seconds where Batman doesn't reply. Peter fills it in.

"Well, Mr. Batman," Peter heaves out a dramatic sigh. "I should get goin'. Got places to be, other fights to walk into, y'know how it is." He goes to take a step towards where he was pretending to go earlier when he just 'stumbled' across the fight, but Batman reaches out to stop him. He doesn't block Peter in or touch him, but Peter stops anyway.

"I'll bring you home. What is your address?"

Peter searches Batman's face for a few seconds, then raises a brow. For all of Batman's intimidating nature, for all of the fact that he's a large, likely deadly man who just chooses not to kill, and the fact that his entire vigilante identity rides on being a force of nature to be reckoned with…

hello! safe worried safe equal

Spidey-sense is content with Batman's presence. In fact, greeting him like he's a friend. It says a lot, and Peter is sure he'll have to figure out why later. All of the vigilantes he's meeting just scream 'safe.' It's driving him crazy.

Why can't they give him a reason? Why can't they just leave him alone? Why can't they hurry up and prove that Peter has to do this alone? It's so frustrating- it's so fresh, this aggravation. He wants to tell Batman to fuck off, but the man has done nothing wrong. That's also the problem- he's done nothing wrong. Peter has no good reason to be so wary, he has no reason to be afraid, he has to reason not to ask for help.

You asked for help with Him. No one came.

You would have died.

You should have died.

Adults will always disappoint you.

And yet.

safe…

"Come on, Mr. Batman, don't play that game. Don't you already know?" Peter doesn't really think about the challenge in his words before he says it. But it's out in the open, all Batman has to do is admit-

"Why would I?"

Hah! Peter was wondering if Batman would call him out. Surely the amount of times Peter accidentally looked his way while Batman was stalking him had to have been noticed. Batman's pretty smart to avoid falling into that. But Peter's smart too. He can play that game, if that's what the man is wanting to do.

"Red Hood brought me back home the other night. Ain't he a Bat too?"

"He may have mentioned bringing someone home a few nights ago. But I still do not know your address." Huh. He didn't answer Peter's question. He answered it in a 'sorta to the left' way. Bastard. He's good at this. There's more to that, too, that Peter doesn't know. Peter resists the urge to narrow his eyes, to ask questions and be nosy.

"It's only a couple blocks from here."

"Are your parents aware you're out this late? It's nearly 12AM."

"Lemme just hop over to the cemetery and ask when my curfew is. I'm sure they'd die if I told them about this." Peter relishes in the way Batman's lips draw tight again. He shrugs and huffs, waving it off. "Gee, Mr. Batman, you look like you ate a lemon."

"I wasn't trying to-"

"I know, I know, I was just making a joke." Peter says lightly. "I don't have any folks. My foster dad is out of town. What they don't know won't hurt them."

"But it could hurt you."

"Maybe." Peter agrees. "But I guess that'd be on me. Y'know, my responsibility and all that. I'd make my bed and I'd lie in it."

"Hn."

For some reason, Peter can't contain his grin at that response. It felt like an accomplishment to get that out of him instead of actual words. And once he gets the ball rolling, it's hard to stop. "Hey, do you have echolocation in your suit?"

"No." Batman is pressing someone on the wrist of his suit.

"Why not?"

"Hadn't thought about it."

"You should. You're a bat. That's like, their thing. You think of a bat and you go, 'yeah, they echo locate.' It's basically, like, kind of part of the image. On standard alone you should have it." Peter says thoughtfully. "I don't think it'd be hard for you. You've got that handy dandy computer on your wrist- which I should point out is dangerous near your vital organs? But you do you I guess- and you got EMP shielding or something, right?"

Batman hesitates. He hesitates.

"You know that how?"

Gotcha!

"I saw it on Signal's suit during one of his take downs the other day. I figured that's a cool tool to have, so why wouldn't you put it in other suits?" Peter rambles, elated to have gotten Batman a little freaked. "So if you can put that in your suit, why not an echo locator? It'd be useful in situations where you have low visibility. I mean, all you'd really need is an advanced sound generator, a high quality microphone, signal processing-"

"You've really thought about this."

"Huh? No, I'm thinking about it now." Peter furrows his brow. "You also have like, electroshock or something, right? I heard some old lady talking about it on the train the other day. Have you thought about energy shielding-"

Peter's cut off by a dark form stopping in the road a few feet away.

"Holy shit, is that the Batmobile?"

He's over there in seconds (probably a little too fast, based on the way Batman is watching him, but not enough that it would say anything), eyes shining as he gets a look at the Batmobile for the first time.

Stupidly named or not, it's incredible. None of Tony's cars look this cool (even if Peter likes those cars and can name every single one he has), because Iron Man thinks it's "tacky" to have a vehicle for this purpose. They have jets and planes and all sorts of other modes of transportation.

The back almost looks like a Fiat Turbina, and the rest of it is smooth and low like a Chevrolet Impala- but it's got a lot of hidden specials that Peter is itching to get closer to, he can tell they're there. The car is sturdier than it should be, a bit more bulky to keep it all hidden from sight. It's likely that this thing is built to get into even the worst of crashes without so much as a scratch. The tinted windows gleam in the lights of the street, all shiny and pretty and-

"Unfair that this this beauty belongs to you, old man."

Batman huffs under his breath in something that could be a laugh, walking to the driver's side of the car. There's a moment where nothing happens, then the handle on the passenger side brightens with a small screen. The door unlocks and pops open itself, gliding up and outwards to reveal an even cooler inside with leather seats and a fuck ton of buttons Peter is going to not press. Batman is already sitting inside, as if the jerk expects Peter to sit his ass down no problem.

Oh, this could definitely be a kidnapping. And as loathe as he is to admit this… Peter is risking it for this car.

He hops right on in, the doors closing when he buckles his seat belt. He looks over the dashboard eagerly, attempting to keep his hands from doing grabby 'must push button' motions that Tony constantly bats his hands away for doing. "Is that for the grappling hook launchers?" He points to a button near him.

"I'm not telling you that."

"So it is." Peter hums as the car revs to life. Batman didn't press a key to the ignition, nor did Peter see any particular activation. Cool… "Do you have a Batmissle?"

Batman ignores that question. "Address?"

"Benny's, 5 blocks over." Peter says fast. "Batshield?"

"The burger restaurant?"

"Yes. Does everything have Bat in front of it? If so, please tell me that's not your fault."

Batman did answer the last question. A lot of his equipment does, in fact, have Bat in front of it. No, it is not his fault. Peter can blame Nightwing for that.

Interesting that he answered that and nothing else. Interesting that he returned Peter to Benny's and did not kidnap him, even though it would have been deemed easy for him to do so. Interesting that Peter can't figure out if he's annoyed at Batman or not still.

Interesting interesting interesting… All of that manged to keep Peter up far later than he should have. But whatever, what's done is done.

He woke up the next morning and did his best to push all of that aside to worry about later. He got… something? Out of that interaction? He takes a shower, dresses in his warmest clothes because there's a slight chill in the air that threatens to get colder during the day, eats breakfast with Benny downstairs (eggs and toast, with strawberry jam and not grape because he isn't an animal), and settled into this room to draw up plans for the Jumping Radar.

It's a relatively quiet day outside (a curse of road rage only every hour or so instead of thirty minutes), and Peter manages to focus long enough to get his prototype one finished.

It's nothing special, but it has a charm to it that Peter likes to see. He tried to make it match the nanobracelet that Peter got from Tony, if just to make his tech look like it belongs together, but there's only so much that a junkyard part could look like a lab-made Stark Tech. It's light enough that it can go under his jacket sleeve no problem, and it only opens if Peter uses his thumbprint.

He should test it…

He hesitates to do so. He got lucky last night with Batman being more chill than he could have been. The man was biting back a lecture about the dangers of the streets the entire time Peter was alone with him. Peter likely goaded him too much, got on his nerves just enough, that Batman might not be as nice if he caught Peter again.

And because Peter had shown he was back to wandering Gotham at night, he'll likely get at least one Bat swooping by Benny's, and they might keep an eye out for him.

Deciding that going during the daytime would be better, lest he get another lecture from a Bat, Peter hid the Jumping Radar in his backpack, tied his shoes, and left Benny's in a hurry. There's a tingling at the back of his neck he can't place a name to yet, so he chooses to keep his head down as he walks around.

The mental map of Gotham is growing stronger day by day. It's very different to Queens, but not that different. There's old courts where people play basketball together (even though they have barbed wire over the fences), and there are hot dog vendors (who carry shotguns on their hip), and even a bodega.

That… didn't have a cat inside, so Peter decided not to trust it.

Gotham is just… weird. That's all he can really put it as. There's the mix of people that are just trying to survive, and people who are desperate to survive, and then the greedy on top of it. It's not dissimilar to how life always is, it's just amplified here.

Peter supposes it's the presence of organized crime just as much as the sheer amount of wack villains running around. They don't get much of that in Queens lately, because Peter had been cracking down on it. And not as many people turned to gangs for an effort to survive when the Avengers were constantly out in New York helping people do so.

It's been nine days now in this universe, and Peter has been involved in and seen more crime than he would have in a little over a week in his universe. He had to pass by someone stealing the tires off of a postal truck with the post guy still inside the truck just to get out of the house.

Peter had first appeared in the University District, right outside of Gotham hospital and nearby Gotham Public Library. Over the days, he had avoided the Bowery and Crime Alley, sensing just how bad it could get in there. Stay away stay away stay away his senses told him.

This meant that Peter had ended up in the Upper East Side. Benny's is there, and while it isn't the best place to be, it's certainly not the worst. A few days ago, he had explored to the middle of the island that Gotham is, towards Robinson Park, and then down towards the Diamond District. These are far better off than the other places, and that had to be due to more police presence in the area.

Which is something of a false identity. Because Peter already knew this, but apparently it's doubled in Gotham: the cops are corrupt.

So what Peter should say? The area appears far better off than the other places, but he should be wary of every interaction he has.

He looks up at the tallest building in Diamond District, standing in a small square to get his bearings. Wayne Industries says the side, and Peter is struck with a sense of dejavu.

That's the name of the man in the first article that Peter saw about Gotham, when he first got here. "Bruce Wayne" and something about his green-energy initiative, that was apparently more exciting for people to know about than the mayor that was assassinated. Batman had almost mentioned him last night, something about him paying for medical care, so people can get assistance for free.

Huh…

Peter squints at the building in thought. This Wayne guy must be a millionaire or a billionaire, like Tony is. This isn't the first time he's heard of Wayne's name, it's got to be the hundredth. He passes by bus-stops with this guy's face on them, he has billboards, he's on the side of hospitals. He's as rooted in Gotham as the crime is, just on the opposite side. Peter's seen more about him than he has for who the new mayor is going to be.

It reminds him of Tony again, and Peter can't help but frown. Each day that passes, Peter is more and more eager to get back. If only… here If… hey only…

…here right here… hey here…

Peter scans the crowd, turning in a circle with his hands in his pockets. He can tell that something is nearby but what- No. Someone. It's not even a question as to who, he knows that feeling now. Peter turns again, searching, scanning for a hint of that face-

there!

Getting pushed out of the Wayne Industry tower, the man that Peter has been searching for flings a suitcase at the windows, cussing up a storm. A flurry of papers scatter across the walkway and Gotham's finest citizens desert the area without even looking up at him.

He steels himself as he pushes through the crowd. What is he doing here, of all places? Peter had thought he'd find the man hiding in some warehouse, not out in the open wearing a barely-hanging-on suit and tie. The sleeve around the man's wrist is bumpy, Peter can tell he has the device on his arm. The man's suitcase has spilled onto the ground, and a security guard is in his face, red like a tomato from yelling, and his heart beat is more like-

scared?

"Don't come back, or you're getting arrested!"

"This isn't fair! Let me in, I have an appointment!"

"From two days ago!"

"And so what if I missed it? Tell him to make the time to see me!"

"Get outta here!"

He is trying to get tech or something! Wayne Industries is different from Wayne Enterprises, even if it's the same company. Why else would the man come here, if not for tech? That's why he attacked Peter, that has to be it! He was after Tony the entire time. Though, now he's out here actually making appointments rather than stealing Bruce Wayne's kids. Peter feels a little jealous about that.

Peter pushes past a few people, barely muttering out his sorries, but no one cares. He keeps his eyes trained on the old man as he picks up his suitcase, locked out of the tower for good. He roughly stuffs the papers inside and snaps the suitcase shut, stalking down the street and pulling at his hair. The man's three piece suit is in shambles, half of it buttoned on the wrong button and his tie too loose.

angry… danger… careful… crazy…

Yeah, even without his spider-senses telling him, Peter gets that impression. He has to approach this carefully. He shouldn't start a fight, not yet. It's way too crowded in the streets, he doesn't have a mask, and the Jumping Radar hasn't been tested yet. Instead… Yeah, instead, Peter should track down where this guy has been coming and going. He has to have a home, or a base of operations or something. Maybe if Peter can get inside, he can get more information on that wrist piece.

A woman with a poodle gets in his way, and Peter scoots around them, trying not to take his eyes off of the man. He's taller than Peter remembered, but maybe it's because he isn't as hunched down?

"-good for nothings- will be sorry- boss-" The man is raving under his breath, clicking his tongue every few seconds. There's an almost hissing noise that escapes him. Peter doesn't like the sound of that.

A bus hisses next to Peter's ear, the steam getting in his face. He skips around it to find the man is getting farther and farther down the street. Peter curses, picking up the pace. He doesn't want to alert the man that he's nearby, but what if he loses him?

It's when Peter passes by an alley that things start to go wrong.

…in there!

He hesitates, his feet stopping in the middle of the alley. He glances to his left, not spotting anything at first. He looks at the man's back, watching his form getting smaller the farther he gets. It must have been a fluke, nothing-

"-fine and dandy." A girl's voice groans. "Doesn't hurt at all. Take your time getting here."

Shit. Shit shit shiiiiit.

Peter runs a hand through his hair. He takes a step forward to go after the man, gritting his teeth as he does so, but his foot hangs mid-step in the air. The guilt starts to eat at him, crawling it's way up inside him.

Peter wants to go home.

But he can't…

As the man turns the corner down the block, Peter gives in. He turns into the alley.

When he gets closer to the dumpster in the alley, he spots a purple boot sticking out from behind it. He can smell the copper of blood before he even sees the person, and he holds back a wince. He peers around the corner, slow and deliberate.

Another Bat. Spoiler he remembers. The girl-woman? He can't tell her age. She's curled over her side, a hand over a knife that had been stuck in a weak spot of her body armor. Her hand trembles as she tries to keep pressure.

It's rare that he sees the Bats in daylight, other than Signal. They stick to the night, when the crime is at its worst. Which means that one of their Bad Guys is out and about, causing all kinds of mayhem, and there wasn't a Gotham alert gone out (Apparently, the city has alarms, like tornado alarms, that ring out in a section of city where rogues appear). But he hasn't heard anything about it, and his spider-sense is just a low hum…

Well, not that that means anything. The city is so infested with crime, that Peter's spider-sense is pretty much always going off in some way. He might have missed it because he was so focused on catching his own villain.

But that doesn't matter now. Spoiler is hurt, and Peter can't leave her here.

He slings his backpack around and unzips it, alerting her to his presence. Her head snaps up and she reaches for her utility belt, only to pause when she sees Peter. He pulls out a white and red box, zips up his backpack, and sets it on the ground as he kneels in front of her.

"Kid, what?" She has a voice modulator too, but it's a lot more present in her voice than it was for Red Hood. Her entire face is hidden by a black mask over the lower half of her face, a domino mask over her eyes, and a purple cloak with a hood. Blood stains the inside of the cloak and her side, pooling beneath her.

"I don't have any purple bandages to match the aesthetic." Peter comments as he pops the first aid kit open. "Hope that won't be a problem."

She lets out a soft laugh. "…Nah, I don't think it will be."

Peter scoots closer, assessing the wound itself. It doesn't look like it went in too deep, but it's lodged in there mostly because of the armor. He scrunches his nose in distaste- he hates stab wounds, always will, but it'd be weirder if he liked them. He takes out a rag from the first aid kit.

"D'you just carry that around?"

"No, not at all. I just happened to have one on me today. Had a feeling I'd stumble across a vigilante with a stab wound." Peter replies, raises a brow at her as he presses the rag to her side. He's careful not to jostle the knife.

"Smart idea." Spoiler mumbles. "Hey, you know, m' friends have seen you around."

Peter stares at her. "Yeah, I know. You guys are just falling out of the sky 'round here. You should look into that. If I didn't know that vigilantes had better things to do with their time, I'd be suspicious that I have a few stalkers."

Spoiler doesn't have anything to say to that. "One of them is on his way, so I'll be good."

"I'm not leaving you with a stab wound until I hand you off to someone who can get you to a doctor." He wonders if she might be crazy or something.

"How do y' know about first aid?"

"I know enough to know you can't leave someone whose been stabbed in a back alley next to a dumpster." Peter dodges the question.

"Why are you helping?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" Peter is almost offended. He scowls at her, reminding himself that Gotham is just insane. The lady last night had been appalled that Peter hadn't ran for it just to save himself. He supposes that's how it is here- to live, a person has to look out for just themself. The first sign of danger, they turn away.

And while it makes sense, and he can't fault them for living that way… It's just not what he was taught.

"Geez, you people are so weird, I'll tell you that. If I can help someone, and then I don't help them, then wouldn't that make me a jerk?"

Spoiler mutters something unintelligible.

"Hey, don't pass out," Peter snaps his free hand in front of her face, her head slumping forward and rising again. "I'm not removing your mask because I'm such a nice person, but you better not have a concussion under there. Blood loss is bad enough."

behind

Peter doesn't have to fake look over his shoulder, because Red Robin drops to the ground a little more harshly than he should have. His ankles are probably going to hurt later because of that, but he doesn't seem to care.

He backs away to give him room to kneel down in front of her. Red Robin doesn't look surprised to see Peter, so he's guessing Spoiler's comm was on. He's entirely focused on her, his hands gripping her wrist to check for a pulse.

"Hey, Spoiler, you with me?"

"Hey, boyf…" Spoiler mutters. Red Robin lets out a short sigh of relief.

Now that Peter isn't seeing him in the dark and from afar, he can get more detail about Red Robin. He has black hair that falls in his face, a black domino mask with a hint to the bat symbol on the ends. What stands out the most is that this is the youngest Robin he's seen so far, just a few years older than Peter. Maybe just about to turn 18, or a little older. His black cloak falls over his shoulder, and his hands are gentle when he lifts Spoiler.

He fully steps out of Red Robin's way as the older guy shifts to a fireman's carry, careful not to jostle her wound. He nods briefly to Peter, but he's more worried about his friend than some kid.

"See ya, kid. Thnks…" Spoiler slurs, and they're off.

Peter waves goodbye.

He stands in the alley for a moment, looking at the blood she left behind. She'll be okay… And Peter… Peter should try to figure out where that man went. But he has a feeling that he's long gone by now, and he missed his chance.

"You stabbed."

The next morning after Steph faced off an angry Two-Face and had to scram because he got that lucky shot in finds Steph laying in bed and trying to heal, a revolving door of visitors constantly checking on her.

Steph can't hold back a sheepish grin as Cass settles down in the seat next to her bed. On the other side, Tim is muttering to himself and writing in his notebook with a dangerous fury. He hasn't gotten much sleep, but last night he was being overprotective again and wouldn't calm down about Steph's wound, so he's even more tired.

"Yeah," Steph signs back as she speaks. "I got stabbed."

"Being stupid?" Cass smirks, and Steph rolls her eyes.

"No, not this time."

Cass seems to have it in mind that Steph likes getting stabbed or something. It isn't her fault that people have knives. She already dreads the moment that she's all better and everyone makes her run through defense training again- especially Bruce, who's a stickler for that.

"What is Tim doing?" Cass asks, gesturing to Tim at the end. Steph sighs, and Tim doesn't show an indication that he's heard it.

"He's still stuck on Peter, but he's studying for class right now. I think." Steph tries to see his paper, but it's a bunch of nonsense. "Could be both?"

"Peter?" Cass spells out, and Steph realizes-no one must have filled her in before she got here.

Cass has been in Hong Kong, arriving to provide backup, what with the three rouges out and roaming the streets right now. She's mostly here to help Dick, who's been running back and forth between Gotham and Bludhaven for a few days now. But… that's going to change, considering Steph was stupid enough to let Two Face get the jump on her.

Well, she has a lot to get caught up on. Who better for that job than Steph?

"Peter is a boy that showed up at Babs' library." Steph explains (because she doesn't want to think about how she messed up, not yet, when the pain has only just dulled), and she considers making a name sign for Peter so they don't have to spell it out. "He was covered in bruises, and according to her and Dick, it was pretty bad. Like someone tried to kill him."

"Boy?" Cass tilts her head. "Young?"

"Yeah, pretty young." Steph recalls Peter's face now that she's seen him up close, in person. She had seen him on their screens, had heard through word of mouth about him. But seeing him up close was different.

He's just a kid.

And yeah, she knows, it's sort of… Well, they aren't new to that, right? Kids getting injured, kids being lost, kids being homeless, kids… having no one to watch them. Every single one of them knows all too well about this.

But really, seeing him up close, it hurt. Maybe even more than the stab wound had.

He still has baby face. He's got these big brown eyes that look right through you and seem to see and notice everything. He's got freckles on those tan cheeks that prove he's really not from around here, because seriously, Gotham never sees the sun. Peter doesn't belong in a place like this, and Steph is really glad she hadn't seen the extent of the wounds the others were talking about.

Even though the thought makes her guilty, that she was glad that Peter was obviously hiding healing bruises on his neck and his cheek, because they weren't there even though they should be.

She had heard about his encounter with Batman the night before last. Tim had spoken about how he comforted the victim, that he didn't think to run. Bruce had been exasperated, but between his concerns about what Peter had done and said, he would grin when he recalled the boy's energy and excitement about the Batmobile and the like.

And honestly, it tracks. He had been so calm yesterday, despite the situation. Anyone else stumbling across a vigilante losing blood would have freaked out, or ran, or attacked. But Peter had taken control like nothing was that weird about the situation, tossing around jokes. Which Steph can appreciate.

She keeps thinking about her blood on his hand, though, when he was waving goodbye, and the humor is dulled.

"He might be 12 or a little older. He's a good kid, I think," Steph pauses, her mind still wandering back to his smile-frown that he had, trying to cheer her up and keep her calm even though he was a civilian kid, and she was a vigilante who's had far worse. "You should ask Bruce, Dick, and Jay about their encounters with him, he's… a character for sure. He found me before Tim could get to me and held my wound so I didn't bleed out."

Cass' eyebrows raise, and Steph grins up at her.

"Yeah, I know. I've been bragging about it. He's such a sweet kid! He even told me: 'If I can help you, and I don't, then wouldn't that make me a jerk?' And it was sooo cute, 'cause he said it like helping was the most obvious thing in the world to do!" Her sister grins back at that, and Steph knew she'd appreciate the sentiment. "We can't find anything on him, though. And by 'we' I mean Boyfie here." Steph jerks a thumb at Tim. "And Babs and Bruce too, but they're forced to focus on the rouges that got out."

"Can't find anything?" Cass is confused, pointing to Tim, who seems to know the conversation has shifted into prime complaining time for him, because he looks up. "He, of all people, can't find Peter?"

"I'm convinced this kid didn't exist before a few days ago, Cass." Tim groans, setting his cheek on his notebook paper in a dramatic fashion. The two girls look at each other in exasperation, but smile nonetheless. "There's nothing about any Peter in the foster system that looks like him, and all of the Tony's that are foster dads that I found have no connection to Peter at all. The little details we have of him don't match up either."

"It's driving him nuts." Steph giggles into her hand, and winces as she feels the wound in her side protest. Cass and Tim frown, and Steph can sense the emotional distress from a mile away. She waves them off. "I'm fine. It's just a little light stabbing, no biggie."

"I'll take your patrols until you get better." Cass signs, and Steph reaches to squeeze her shoulder in appreciation. "Anything I look out for?"

"Peter." Steph says, and Tim squints at her.

Steph gets that. She hadn't been as involved in the Peter thing as he, Bruce, Jason, and Dick are. She was supposed to be focused on the rouges- actually, she and Damian, because lately, Bruce has been wanting Damian to work with her more often. Maybe it's because when Bruce goes stalking checking on Peter, Damian gets frustrated just like Tim does, but with a little more Kick to it. She shrugs a little, drawing out a long sigh.

"What? I want to thank him, somehow. If she can figure out how to do that for me, that'd be great. It's not like I can get suited up and do it now, so I have to wait. We all know I'm impatient like that."

And there- right there. Cass and Steph both notice the gleam in Tim's eyes. A familiar gleam that causes the both of them to tense up. Cass first, because she can always sense it before Tim can even think it.

"…You're gonna stalk him as a civilian, aren't you?" Steph narrows her eyes at him. He avoids her eyes, the idiot. "That's dangerous, Tim."

"How so?" He protests, not even denying that was what he's thinking.

"Two reasons. For one: He could figure you out if you hang with him too long, he's seen you in suit a couple times now. And two: because you're gonna get close to him, and you're gonna get attached, and he's gonna end up here. And if he's even kinda sort of good at fighting, or detective work- and you know, he is good with computers, enough that Babs was impressed, so that would be a reason too- then you guys are gonna end up with another damn Robin. Damian isn't ready for there to be two Robins running around."

"That's not true." Tim argues, and it falls flat in front of them. "…Alright, maybe-"

"Knock knock!"

Dick knocks on the door and says it out loud, much to the annoyance of Tim and Steph. They both groan with complaint that dies out when he enters the room. Cass signs what they're all thinking.

"Zombie…"

"Hey, I saw that." Dick stops next to the bed, and Cass just grins at him, the perfect little angel that she is.

He looks more tired than Tim is, and that is a feat. His hair, usually a great source of pride for him, his half up and has a few flyaways as if he had pulled it out of his face in a hurry. The circles under his eyes were starting to get more pronounced.

It's no wonder why he's tired, the man really is getting split in two directions with Bludhaven and Gotham. Bludhaven is 33 minutes away, but it takes at least an hour and a half, sometimes two hours depending on traffic, to get through Gotham and then to Bristol, where the Manor is.

Steph, as much as she tried putting it off, is hit with a pang of guilt for getting injured. Cass was supposed to be here to help Dick out, and now she's taking up for Steph instead. Dick must sense the upcoming storm, because he reaches over and tucks her hair behind her ear with a smile.

"What's with the frowning? None of that, kay? We're all glad you're okay."

Steph can't argue against it, she knows it's futile. She simply smiles, leaning into his hand. He's really a good older brother to everyone he comes across. It's like he always knows when Steph is starting to feel bad, sometimes before she even notices it herself. His relationship with Tim got rocky recently, but they had some sort of talk, because now they're back to what it was before.

Or, maybe, better than they were before.

"Dick, did you just get here?" Tim is making his Revenge Face. Dick, too tired, misses this completely, and he shrugs.

"Yeah, but I had to stop by and check on Steph-"

Tim stands up, hopping over the foot of Steph's bed and scrambling to grab the man. Dick's eyes widen comically large, and he attempts to take a step back. It's too late, Tim already has him by the shirt. "Sleep. Now."

"Wait-"

"No waiting." Tim argues, yanking him harder than he needs to. Dick stumbles, looking back for help only to find the two girls agreeing with Tim. It's early in the morning, but Dick needs his rest, sleep schedule be-damned. "Sleep now."

Steph and Cass can hear them wrestling in the hall, so Cass shuts the door.

Thanks to the set back (he can't be mad about it, not when he knows that Spoiler is alive and he managed to help her, so maybe he shouldn't call it a set back), Peter hadn't seen the villain for the rest of that day. He attempted to track down where he could have gone after hitting that corner, but it was like the man up and vanished. Which…

Yeah.

He can do that.

So it's very likely that he did.

Where to is still a mystery, and one that Peter is going to get to the bottom of. No more waiting for Spider-Man. It's been ten entire days since he got here. That's more than enough time for him to gain his bearings. He can't sit on his ass all day and wait for this guy to stroll by again.

His current plan to get Spider-Man up and running is the same plan that he used all the time before he met Tony. "Sneak into a school and steal." He's pretty good at it, if he does say so himself.

Peter sticks close to a group of students as they make their way into the building. This is one of the better schools in Gotham, and he's betting that they'll have at least some- if not all- of what he needs to make his web fluid. He's running way too low for his spidery needs, and he needs to stock pile.

He misses Tony's lab right now just a little less than he misses Tony himself. If Peter was running out of web fluid, he could just walk into the lab and make a new supply that could last him weeks. And it's times like these that he wishes he could biologically make web fluid, but also, he thinks, that would be gross.

Somehow, Peter manages not to stick out in the crowd of students. He got lucky that Gotham doesn't care about uniforms as much as they could. Even with his clothes being a somewhat ratty and too big for him, he gets by based on heavy experience with this sort of thing. He hangs close to the walls and in groups, moving seamlessly as though he knows where he's going. He's just "off to class" like every other kid here, no need to freak that he could get caught. The longer that he's here, the more clues he can pick up on where a lab might be, and more importantly, where some readily-available-but-not-really-chemicals might be waiting for him.

A group of older students on the stairs are talking about first period chemistry. Bingo!

Peter holds back a smirk as he fits behind their group on the stairs. No one even sends him a passing glance. Which could hurt his feelings, but doesn't!

He leaves their group just as they make their way into a classroom, aimlessly talking about the Homecoming and a Parent-Teacher day. It isn't a lab, but the lab won't be farther than the classroom… There. Just down the hall, he spots the glorious sight of lab tables. Thankfully, when Peter finds this room it's completely empty of students and teachers alike. He goes ahead and locks the door, shutting the blinds before making his way towards the teacher's area.

This reminds him of the good-old-days (bad days) where he would sneak into Midtown and steal the chemicals from the teacher's room. Everything is available for the taking: salicylic acid, touline, methanol, carbon tetra-chloride, potassium carbonate, ethyl acetate…

"Oh, how I missed you!" Peter mumbles to the shelf, picking out what he needs.

His own custom webbing had taken him months to figure out, and now it only takes a few minutes to make. First, he considered using silk, but it wasn't sticky nor malleable enough for what he wanted to do. Synthetic silk had ended up the same, with it only around .875 gigapascals. In his latest version of the web formula, he had gotten it as close to real human-spider webbing as scientifically possible by using the resources Tony gave him, and he had been able to increase the webbing's distance along the way.

Tony's lab isn't here, so Peter won't be getting that webbing, but his second best version instead. He'll just have to fall back on what he knows for now. Peter has 14 CO2 cartridges to hold the webbing fluid, and that can last him a while. Hopefully, he doesn't need more than two week's worth. (Actually, he's hoping he's home as soon as Spider-Man can get into action.)

He smacks the goggles into place and reaches for a pair of gloves, rubbing his hands eagerly. The bubbling of the formula always pleases him when he stirs. Sort of like he's making a potion, like a witch.

"Double, double, toil and trouble…" Peter sing songs to himself as the web fluid grows sticky in the beaker.

Creepy when you do that, Bambino. He can hear Tony as if the man is sitting across from him. Peter smiles to himself. Need to get you a witch costume for Halloween.

The web fluid settles in the beaker as Peter shakes his head. He can't get distracted thinking about something other than getting out of here.

With that out of the way, Peter cleans up his mess as though he were never here. He stores the cartridges in his bag for now, his other jacket keeping them from clinking around in there. When he's satisfied that his presence has been erased- and that classes are in full swing, so no one should be in the halls- Peter unlocks the lab door and makes his way out.

Peter had always been used to empty hallways. He stopped going to school when he was 12, after all, and got all of his education from the library. (He wasn't about to let being homeless stop him from learning everything he could.) But he still saw schools all the time, when he was breaking and entering to steal from them.

Now that he actually goes to school, and he isn't just sneaking in at night, he thinks an empty hallway might actually be a weird sight. But it's similarity to something he knows makes him feel at ease.

Then again, it also eats at him that something is missing.

No, not something. Someone.

Ned, Peter's best friend. He can say that confidently, without a worry in the world. He had met Ned the summer before he finally entered high school, the both of them finding the same corner to hide in during the orientation meet and greet. Ned had been easy to talk to, what with both of their tendencies to ramble and love to listen.

It wasn't hard for them to get to know each other. Peter draws in comfort when he is beside Ned, the boy's presence alone able to wash away the anxiety that came with re-entering school. He didn't need a lot of friends, not when he has Ned.

Even when he figured out that Peter is Spider-Man, he stuck by Peter's side and swore secrecy before Peter even suggested it. He wasn't excited because he had a friend that was Spider-Man, a hero who could do all of these cool things. He was excited because it was Peter. And that had brought a comfort to him that Ned will never really know.

That's why he can't decide on if the school hallways being empty are a relief or a burden on him. He's fallen back to seeking out what is familiar: isolation, shielding himself from the other people in the world. Never letting anyone get too close, because if they did, they'd see how Not Fine he is.

Peter thought it was a good thing, but he's not so sure anymore.

He doesn't wonder about the psychology of that, or that he likes to talk to himself. Instead, he focuses on the view of the school itself, since he has the time now. It's crazy what one can miss when they're in a rush to steal chemicals.

The school is fancy, but not in the way that Midtown is fancy. Midtown is all modern architecture, hallways with big glass window-walls and courtyards with walking paths that make no sense. The lighting was always too harsh on Peter's eyes; he has beef with fluorescent lighting. However, the architecture for Gotham Prep is like the rest of Gotham, a Gothic style that is a sullied with posters of cartoons and motivational cats.

Classrooms have doors that were clearly just replaced, because they're shinier than the walls and smell like newly polished wood. The lighting isn't fluorescent, and Peter thinks that's the best thing about this place. The lights come from tiny chandeliers on the ceiling, the kind that look like electrical candles.

The lockers remain the same. They're darker than Midtown's, but they're decently clean and people like to decorate the outsides. One locker that he passes has a mirror on it (he so needs a haircut soon), and another has a poster of some kind of pop-star of this universe- no, wait, that's a superhero. He has a big red S on his shirt, but he doesn't look exactly like Superman- he's got a more punk look about him. Is there more than one Superman?

He stops at a grand-looking trophy case that sits next to the staircase. It's filled with trophies on every shelf, and he wonders what's taking them so long getting another trophy case to put next to it it is sorely needed. He starts looking at one end, where the older trophies are, before taking a sneak peek at the names on the newer trophies.

The most recent name on the shiny trophy in front of him makes Peter pause.

'Eugene Thompson- Academic Decathlon.'

No fucking way.

Peter scoffs, blinking as if to clear the name and see another. Flash? The Flash Thompson? The annoying guy from his classes, the one always on about some rivalry with Peter? That Flash Thompson, here, in an alternate universe?

He has got to see this.

His mind is racing with thoughts, possibilities that he hadn't considered until now. He wonders if he could break into the school's system and see what classes he might be in, and try to catch a glimpse of what he looks like here. He had briefly wondered with Benny and Biggie being so alike if there were counterparts of people in each of their worlds, but he hadn't looked into it yet. Even if there are counterparts, he can't say that these would be friendly faces here.

Wouldn't it be insane? To think that there could be versions of his friends and family, right here in Gotham, and he just hasn't met them yet? A part of him is curious, but the other part thinks he should wait and see what this Eugene is like before he gets too excited.

What would an alternate version of Tony be like? Or Pepper? Or Happy?

Peter can't stop himself from giggling. Maybe Happy would be called Sadly and Pepper called Salt. Tony must not be Iron Man in this dimension, or else he would have heard of the superhero by now, even in Gotham. Oh, what if Tony is nearby? He might not be exactly like his Tony, but it would be cool to see. And if he's funny in this universe, he would so be able to tease Tony with this information.

That settles it. Peter has to know. It's just too good of an opportunity for Peter to pass up, and what else is he gonna do with his time before he goes out as Spider-Man?

He taps the display case as a little goodbye/thanks for the help, and then hurries down the steps towards the second floor, passing by two students on their way up. Their conversation is hushed, and neither look happy, but it comes to an abrupt stop when Peter passes by them.

?

"Hey, wait!"

Peter pauses when he hits the landing, looking back up at the older students. They had stopped midway on the steps, one of them holding chem books in his arms that threaten to spill over. He's definitely interested in the topic, because they're all filled with notebook papers, sticky notes that stick out the sides, and look busted to hell in the only way that an avid reader would get a book to look like.

But why are they stopping Peter? Aren't they late for class?

"Uh, yeah?"

"W-Where's your hall pass?"

The boy on the right scowls at the boy who asked. They both look like seniors or close to it, he thinks. The boy who asked has dark skin and a nice coat on, better than anything Peter could afford. The other is paler than what looks healthy, his black hair messy and windswept, like he'd been running late that morning. He had time to stop for coffee though; he's holding two cups in one hand.

"Where's yours?" Peter fires back.

"It's right here." The coffee guy digs into his pocket (with much difficulty) and pulls out a slip of paper. Peter raises a brow.

"That's a coupon."

Coffee looks at his hand, shocked at what he's holding. He must not have expected Peter to notice. Which, he might not have, if he didn't have enhanced vision. It's sort of hard to tell sometimes, considering Peter used to wear glasses, and now he's got super human eyesight. What's the regular person eye distance? Who fucking knows.

"That's- it-"

"You're late for class." Peter decides to just walk away. He takes the steps two at a time, leaving them to… whatever is going on there. He hears one smack the other on the arm and hiss under his breath, "Hall pass? Really? Ugh, just, I'll call…"

He gets the distinct sense that he recognized Coffee guy, but he doesn't know from where.

Peter shakes it off- he needs to get to the library! He'd stick to the school and go through their files directly, but he doesn't think sneaking around during office hours would be a good idea. Instead, Peter walks out of a side door when he gets off the staircase, and into the cold street.

Right now, he's in Old Gotham district, which is sort of far away from the University District, but…. he should take that chance, right? Sure, he ran out on that Barbara lady last time he was there, but he has a feeling it's going to be empty when he gets there. That would be ideal for him. The less people the better.

And if it's not, he'll just run away again.

Little Legs tickles Peter's hand in anticipation inside his pocket, as if knowing where Peter was about to go.

BATCHAT

Timmy [7:42AM]: uyukid at ourt schol get hrer

Jay [7:45AM]: what?

Duuuuke [7:50AM]: we ran into Peter at the school. 95% sure he doesn't go here so don't know what's up with that

Dicko [7:52]: rlly!? omw now where did he go

Duuuuke [7:55AM]: he left went downstairs rlly fast dont know where after srry gtg teacher see me phone

Dicko [7:56AM]: RIP duke and timmy

Damian [7:57AM]: I assume Drake died, but Thomas just had his phone confiscated.

Dicko [7:58AM]: thnx dami

Damian [7:59AM]: You are welcome.

Babs [8:22AM]: Dicko PETER IS HERE I'M GONNA STALL

Dicko [8:24AM]: THIS KID IS EVRYWHRE （；´д｀）ゞ

Peter peeks inside the library entrance for a sign that someone could be near. It's just as dark as it was before, and he can hear Barbara chilling in her office. She's on the phone with someone, but her voice is just a little too hushed for Peter to make out distinct words.

Thinking he should make this quick, Peter jogs towards the computers. Little Legs jumps out of his palm as he sits down and wiggles the computer awake. In and out in five minutes, tops.

Eugene Thompson. Peter repeats, sometimes forgetting his name isn't actually 'Flash.' He types in Gotham Prep's website and starts skimming through the club sections until he finds Academic Decathlon.

If only Peter could tell Ned about this. He can already hear his best friend babbling away the possibilities of what he could be like here. He'd be right next to Peter, sitting halfway in the chair with him, or maybe just on Peter's lap like Peter insists sometimes ("-because seriously, Ned, you're light as a feather for me"), and he'd have all sorts of theories that Peter would laugh along to. "Maybe he has a mohawk, or maybe he got a bad tattoo! Even better, what if he dyed his hair an ugly color?"

Holding back a snicker, he scrolls down to see the names and pictures from the most recent addition to their site. It looks like the first one is from the debate that they just won. He scans the faces in the group picture for the familiar face, only to find himself… disappointed.

Flash isn't there. But… His name is? Why is that? Is this a case of Same Name? Because boooo, boring.

Peter scans again, looking back and forth to figure out who's who. That's when his eyes land on someone who… sort of? Looks like Flash? He's standing at the front holding his own trophy, the same one from the display case. He looks like Flash, but not really. The eyes are different, and the nose has a stronger outline, and- wait.

Why does this guy look like Mr. Thompson?

Flash's father?

"Whoa," Peter breathes out. He leans back in his seat, staring at the picture.

He'd only met Mr. Thompson a handful of times, because the man doesn't often go to their school events. Which is partly why Peter cuts Flash some slack on his annoying nature. The worst Flash ever does is get too feisty with his made-up rivalry, and the rest of the time he looks like a grumpy cat. Peter can't find it in him to be angry with someone who looks like a grumpy cat.

But he does know what Mr. Thompson looks like. He's just a regular guy but he makes a distinct impression wherever he goes. He always looks like he's looking down at someone through his nose. Namely, Peter, because when Tony started fostering him, the news had been split on if Peter was a dangerous foster brat or a potentially "sweet, caring boy" who gets taken care of by a brilliant billionaire superhero. Mr. Thompson always had that look about him like he despised Peter and his origins, but was regrettably impressed that Peter had gotten Tony Stark's attention.

So… counterparts. Only, this one is a senior in high school, and is his classmate's dad.

Huh.

But the timeline…? Peter is growing confused. The newspaper had said that it was the same year as when Peter left his universe, so wouldn't it still be the same? Why would he be in a universe where everyone is younger than they're supposed to be? Unless…?

…Unless what, Parker?

"I don't know," Peter growls at himself. This must just be a quirk of the universes that won't be explained.

"You don't know what?"

Peter jumps right out of his skin.

Barbara tilts her head at him. She had oh-so-quietly wheeled her way next to Peter- wheeled? Oh. Peter hadn't seen it last time, but Barbara hadn't been sitting in a chair, but a wheelchair behind that receptionist desk.

It's creepy how silent she had been, and how Peter never noticed her presence. Had he been that startled by figuring out that it wasn't Flash, or that time travel could be involved, or whatever is going on?

She smiles at Peter sweetly despite the last time she saw him, he had ran out of the door like his butt was on fire. In her lap is a stack of books that she's trying to balance. Peter almost holds his breath, trying not to sweat in front of her. Maybe she doesn't recognize him?

"Can I help you figure something out, Pete?"

Ah, blows!

"I, uh, was just confused about the time for the next academic decathlon meet." Peter lies, scratching his cheek. His computer screen is very visible right now, so that's the only lie that comes to mind. "My friend must have told me a thousand times already so I didn't wanna ask again."

Barbara doesn't out him on if it's a lie. She instead asks, "…They don't have it listed?"

"Apparently not." Peter quickly exits out of the tab and logs out of the session. He can tell Barbara's eyes are glued to the screen, and it worries him that she knows what he did in order to get in the computer. She has to know by now.

He stands up, trying to get in front of Little Legs so Barbara can't see. "Can I help you with those?"

He points at the books on her lap, fretting and dying every millisecond that passes by. Barbara was squinting at him, but when she processes his question, her face softens and she goes, "Oh! Yeah, thanks."

She hands Peter the stack of books and he walks with her over to the reception desk, next to the check out. He sets the stack down next to the scanner, and she thanks him again. Peter is about to run off like before (because hey, it worked last time!), but her hand snatches up a plastic jar and shoves it towards his face.

"Candy?"

NO NO NO DON'T

Peter looks at the jar and his face pales, a weak smile on his lips. The little red and white candies feel like they're laughing at him. "Uhm, no thank you, I'm allergic to peppermint."

Barbara takes them back in surprise, and attempts to set them behind her without looking. The jar clatters to the desk and spills a couple on the floor. Peter winces at the noise it makes, as does Barbara. "That's… unfortunate. I've never heard of a peppermint allergy before."

"I get that a lot." Peter laughs awkwardly, taking a few more steps back from the desk.

He needs to get out of here. Like, right now. The longer that he's here, the more he feels like he's going to get found out. Barbara, for some reason he can't explain, has this quality about her eyes that makes him feel itchy. It's like she's constantly trying to figure him out, like she knows something that Peter doesn't.

It isn't a look that he likes to see pointed at him.

"I'll get something different for next time you stop by." She says, and Peter can barely hold his smile.

"You don't- uh, have to do that." Peter's voice grows weak at her insistent grin. She waves him off.

"Nonsense! Hey, I notice you don't have any books this time either." She points out, leaning her arms on the desk. Peter nods, but he doesn't know why. "Maybe I can help you find some? What do you like? Fantasy? Horror?"

"Uh, n-no," Peter thinks she's a little more insistent than last time he was here.

"Sci-fi?" She guesses with a tilt of her head.

Peter is starting to feel bad. He's the only person that ever seems to come to this library, and Barbara really wants him to check out a book. He wants to try and find an excuse, anything to get him out of checking out a book, because he would need a library card to do that and he doesn't have one.

But the librarian is giving him such an eager smile, waiting for his reply.

"Yeah," Peter breaks. "I like sci-fi."

"Awesome! I do too, it's a lot of fun, yeah?" She prompts. Peter doesn't have time to reply, as she presses on, "How old are you? I can't let you check out anything over 12."

"I'm 14!" Peter gawks at her, forgetting what's going on for just a second. She shakes her head in surprise and looks him up and down.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah!" He insists.

"You need to drink more milk and eat your greens, kid." She advises, and Peter sighs, dragging a hand in his hair. When is he gonna get a growth spurt? He's so tired of looking like a baby! "Well that's good, though! If you're 14, you can check out of the Young Adult section!"

Peter watches her wheel around the desk, making her way over to the right. Peter's eyes widen as he spots Little Legs at his shoe, and he swoops down to pick it up. He thought the spAIder was in his coat this whole time!

"Peter?"

He grins nervously as he gets up from the ground. She's looking at his hands, and Peter thinks he might get sick. "I-I dropped a button."

A button? Seriously, Parker?

"…Right. So how do you feel about space sci-fi? You a Star-Wars fan?"

"You have-" Peter stops his mouth before it can betray him. "-sssomething like Star Wars?"

He almost said "You have Star-Wars here?" Which could have been normal or weird to say. He doesn't want to take the risk.

"Yeah, of course! Come see."

?

His spider-sense is no help at all in this situation. It's just as confused as he is. Is she just a really eager librarian, or is this a trap? It feels like the second situation, but what if he's wrong? He has no evidence for the second, but he's been wrong before.

No danger… just confusion. Confusion is always better, even if it still sucks.

She can't be that bad, right? She's just trying to help him get a book.

Ah, but what if Peter gets back to his world before he can return the book? Then he would really look like an ass.

But she really wants to help him! And she's been nothing but nice to him!

He's being impolite.

He should just take up her offer. Maybe she won't even be mad that he hacked to computer to log in.

Maybe she already knows. If she does, she doesn't seem mad about it.

But some people are better at hiding it-

No, Peter is overthinking it again. Barbara is really nice. She doesn't want to hurt him.

Stop being a coward.

Peter takes all of one step before someone else enters the library. Barbara visibly relaxes when she sees him, and Peter tenses because of it. Was he wrong after all? Why would she look like that? Was she trying to keep him here?

Oh.

His first instinct is to think: CPS.

But the man who entered doesn't look like CPS. He's met enough social workers to get a sense of what they're like, even if all social workers are slightly different. This man is really tall, his black hair curling at the ends and pushed out of his face. He's in his late twenties or so, but he doesn't look like an old guy. He has very strong, distinct features that strike Peter as familiar, but he can't place how so. He sort of looks like someone that would get turned into a statue. A statue that would be called 'On the Run' or something, because he has a sweaty sheen on his tan skin as if he had ran to get here. His jacket is loose on one shoulder as though put on in a rush, half zipped up.

He looks at Barbara first, and then turns his head to look at Peter. He feels like a deer in headlights, unable to tell what his spider-senses are feeling, nor what he himself is feeling. The man smiles at him, a little out of breath as he asks, "Sorry. Did I interrupt something?"

"Not at all." Barbara says for Peter. He lowers his eyes from the man and to her, trying to gauge her reaction.

She's too relieved to see the stranger. This feels like it might be a trap after all.

"I was just getting Peter here some sci-fi books. Peter, this is my friend Dick Grayson."

"Nice to meet you, Peter." Dick holds out his hand for Peter to shake.

Peter does shake his hand, though not after hesitating to grab it. He tries to give a firm shake, but he's wary of adult strangers in normal circumstances, let alone in an alternate universe.

Dick's voice is really familiar.

? ? ?

"…Nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson."

Peter takes a step back from him, and he isn't sure if they noticed. Dick glances down as if he noticed.

"Oh, just call me Dick. No need for formal stuff." He waves it off, and Peter nods smally. If he was in his right mind, he'd make a joke. But Peter feels itchy and like he should run. He feels like he knows this guy. Does he? But where would he have seen him before? Is he a counterpart or something? But Peter can't recognize his face. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

Peter takes a second to think if anything to lie with.

"No."

Dick waits for anything other than that, and when Peter just gives him an awkward smile, his brow furrows before the confusion disappears again. Barbara, on the other hand, raises a brow at Peter with no sign of covering up her train of thought.

"Uh, alright…?" Dick has no idea how to respond to that.

"My, uh, Dad checked me out. I'm actually supposed to be in the car waiting for him, so…" Peter edges towards the door.

"Wait, uh," Dick looks like he's thinking hard. Peter presses the handle to the door, wincing at the creaking sound it makes. "Weren't you getting books?"

"Another time. Sorry, Miss Barbara." Peter hurries out the door and down the steps.

weird.

Yeah, Peter agrees. That was weird.

"Oh my god, that was so awkward." Dick puts his head in his hands, crumpling to crouch on the floor and feeling like a disaster idiot of a man- a fool, rather. Babs does nothing to disagree with him, which should be a comfort but it isn't. In fact, she also puts her head in her hands, leaning over her lap as if the crushing blow had been dealt to her. Dick disagrees with that- at least Peter talked to her willingly.

"I offered him peppermint." She sounds exhausted. "Guess who is allergic to peppermint."

He's what? "He's what?"

"Yeah!"

The two of them let out twin groans of self hatred, unable to contain the embarrassment. Their plan is already feeling like a failure, and that's not boding well.

They had made a decision right before Tim left for school: if Peter showed up, they'd try to track him down as civilians, because they wondered if the authority of them being vigilantes was scaring him into being defensive.

(Tim was the one to bring it up, mid revenge attack when he had Dick in a choke hold. Of course he'd be the first to suggest this, and Dick was under no allusion that Tim was asking permission, and was moreso just letting Dick know what was going on. But he at least tried to make it sound less like he was going to stalk Peter, and more like he was going to make a friend. )

The thing was, none of them were prepared for Peter to show up in the places that he did when they got word that he was out in the city. It was different from his usual routes: Benny's, basketball courts, small hangouts. Public spaces where he can be seen talking to people in the neighborhood. (Though, Peter will sometimes just disappear from the sight of cameras during the day, sneaking off who-knows-where.) he had a schedule of sorts, even if it was hazy at best.

Dick did not expect the kid to be at Gotham Academy, of all places. The school that he is definitely not enrolled in? And then Babs had seen him approaching on security cameras nearby and called Dick- just as he was almost to the school- he felt like he was lagging behind.

(And technically, he was. He had practically leapt out of bed when Jason called him to check the chat ((just so he could pass out himself, the traitor)), so he's running on around 30 minutes of sleep.)

Because Peter definitely made no sign that he'd be willing to come back here, either. Those who were awake to read the group chat figured they would have to make excuses to show up at the places Peter usually hangs out, but then Peter just wanders into their daily schedules. And to top it all off, Dick wasn't expecting anything to happen so soon.

It should be easier than this. At least for them. This is literally all that they do.

But now he's confused. It's like every time he thinks he has a read on Peter, the kid proves him wrong by swinging the other way. They all expected he'd want to open up to someone with less authority as a vigilante, a friendly face that can help him out more readily. But when Peter sees them as vigilantes, he at least has a conversation with them. When he sees them as civilians, and he runs away like they're shooting at him and throwing Molotov cocktails in his direction.

It reminds Dick too much of what Jason was like when he first came into their lives. The kid instinctively doesn't trust any adult he comes across, sets up barriers miles high. It's an issue of survival- keeping a fortress that no one can cross, protecting themselves before they can get hurt again.

Though Jason was more the fight to win type, and Peter is the type to fall back and plan a route of escape. All of it unsettles Dick immensely. Makes him feel hollow, like someone is carving out his chest and laying it all bare. Reminds him too much of his own family.

But Jason wasn't… he wasn't an angry kid. Nowadays, it's just Bruce, Alfred, and Dick that remember who Jason was before the Lazarus pit made him so angry, so riddled with hurt. Jason had been a happy kid, a bright light. he was more deserving of the title of a hero than anyone else could get. He made Robin like magic, not Dick, even though Dick had been Robin first. He deserved the colors, he was a good kid- though Dick will argue to his dying breath that Jason is still a good person, despite the hell they've gone through. Dick had been so glad that he was getting to know Jason, the kid that was behind the walls that were built to survive.

Behind the maze of Peter's story, Dick wonders if Peter is a happy kid too.

"We freaked him out." Babs is convinced. "He's never gonna come back here."

"Maybe he will." Dick tries, but he doesn't believe it. Not with how flighty the kid is. "…I just don't understand what could make him run like that."

"Dick…" Babs winces, looking up from her hands. Dick does the same, noticing her frown growing. "He's a foster kid. He also sort of looks like a runaway. How many times do you want to bet someone called CPS on him?"

The very idea makes him wish he could time travel and prevent it from ever happening.

He's not a stranger to foster-care. Dick had spent months in the system in the time that it took Bruce to become registered as a foster parent, and it was… Not good. Not horrible, because back then, the foster system wasn't so… Well, everyone knows that there are ties to human trafficking in Gotham's foster system. Back then, it wasn't as prominent, but now? But he was never on the streets, he only has an outside perspective on that, even if he knows a lot about it. Jason spoke about it once, what it was like living on the streets and fending for himself.

If anything, it'd be weird that Peter didn't have some type of issue with… all of that. Dick himself became… well, he didn't know who to trust when he was in foster-care. The grief became his everything, and it wasn't until Bruce took him in that he had some idea of what he wanted to do with that grief, the right way. He…

For all of Bruce's faults, he had been someone to rely on. Jason knew that too, at some point. That they would have been lost to the world, or dead way sooner, had it not been for Bruce.

The kid needs someone to rely on. Because who the hell is he relying on? Certainly not Tony!

Tony, who they can't find. Tony who isn't here! He hates that this Tony guy has left Peter alone in Gotham of all places. Not that leaving Peter would be acceptable anywhere else either. But Gotham? Setting him loose like that is inexcusable, no matter what the case. He doesn't know what Tony did that had Peter get so attached to him, so defensive of him even though he isn't there.

He had heard from Babs the conversation that Peter had with Red Hood. And then Jason himself had spoken about it with Dick, on the phone that same night. Peter had almost gotten hurt, or died, and his first instinct was to protect Tony. Tony, before Peter. Instead of letting it sink in that he could have gotten hurt, that he was alone, he protected someone that isn't even here. Peter was in some sort of spiral. Jason said it was like the kid had seen a ghost, that his gaze was far off and felt disconnected until he jumped to Tony's defense. He flinched at the slightest of sounds and attempted to get small so he wouldn't be seen. They all know what it was, because they get it too.

And then. As if that wasn't bad enough, Dick gets a call on his way to Gotham this morning, from Bruce. About how Peter had decided to get back out into Gotham after those few days where Dick was assured he was safe inside. He had gotten involved in some kind of fight, and almost got hurt again. But this time, he was barely fazed by what happened. Bruce said he was calm, he talked the victim out of a panic attack, made her laugh and assured her she'd be okay. And his conversation with Batman?

Where was Tony that time, too? According to Peter- gone! Again!

What is going on inside that kid's head, and how can they help him? Dick figured they at least had some sort of experience with this that would help. Peter makes that assumption look stupid as hell.

"Did you know he's 14?" Babs asks, and Dick stares at the ground as he processes the question. The ground he wish would open up and let him lay in a grave and be dramatic until he's in his 50's. Because if he's dramatic in his 50's it'll look too much like a mid-life crisis and Dick wants to avoid that at all costs.

"14?" That's…

"I know." Babs presses, looking towards the ceiling for a semblance of peace. "14. God, he looks like a baby. He is a baby, in my eyes. Now that I'm an adult I feel like I made myself grow up too fast and I look at teenagers and go, 'that's a little kid.' And…"

Dick feels bad, but he accidentally tunes Babs out as she rambles. His mind is caught on baby face Peter. Peter doesn't look 14. He looks like he's 12, maybe, and just started growing out of his baby face. Maybe that's right, and Peter wasn't trying to make himself sound older, but if it is-

"He's got to be malnourished." Dick is starting to think that maybe the best way to get close to Peter is by working a food job. He'd spend Bruce's money for it no problem. "Do you think I can Doordash?"

"Don't even think about it." Babs points at him sternly. "You'll freak him out more."

"But he isn't eating properly!" Dick protests from the ground. Babs wheels towards the reception desk, looking at the tiny peppermint candies that fell to the floor. She picks up the ones that scattered on the desk, scowling at them. "He's too skinny… He's way too short to be 14, are you sure?"

"He was pretty upset that I assumed he was 12. Had the feeling of someone who gets that a lot and wants to be taken seriously like a grownup."

Like a grownup… Dick runs his hands through his hair, the tie that was barely holding on for dear life falling out. Peter had to grow up way too fast, and Dick understands that so deeply. He really gets that. That's probably why it upsets him so much to think about it, because it reminds him a little too much of himself, for some reason.

(Why can't he get this Peter kid out of his head? Why is it that this just keeps coming back? Is it just that detective, gut instinct? Is it some intuition he doesn't understand yet? What is it? Why does this feel bigger than it is?)

What kind of hell has this kid been through? It's years in the making, but also so fresh that it still bleeds. Peter is walking along the edge of some dark cavern, as if ready to leap in should the moment call for it. So who is responsible for that?

Is it Tony? Or is it someone else, someone they don't know about yet? Who could possibly let Peter get to the point he's at now? Who was taking care of him? Who…

"Tony 'knew he couldn't do this again.' That's what he said."

Who left this kid in the first place?

"You okay?"

Babs' voice is quiet, not wanting to break the peace if Dick was trying to get to that point. But he's glad she asked, because there's no peace coming for him. His mind is spiraling in an attempt to get answers, to reason.

"He's so small, Babs." Dick looks up at her, seeing the hurt reflected in her eyes. "I know what it's like to… I mean, my parents… And then seeing the person who got me out of a tough situation, who pretty much saved my life, as someone to look up to and see them from a pedestal…"

"I know." Babs wheels closer to Dick, stopping just in front of him and reaching her hands out to his hair. She fixes it with gentle fingers, pushing it out of his eyes. "I hope he comes back."

Dick hums in agreement. But in his head, he's already made up his mind to find Peter even if he doesn't.