soundtrack to listen to: matt mason's new album + lizzie (sanctified, my hand/lawless dream & waltz right in makes me cry)

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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗: Smells Like Teen Spirit

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

𝟏𝟔 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

☆

            The drive home from D.C. to Midtown was not as bad as the ride there, even if Lizzie chose to sit on the rusty, yellow bus from hell so that she wouldn't be breathing the same air as C.T. for five hours. Taylor proved once again that she was her best friend by sacrificing as well to ride home with the Decathlon Team instead of the softball's travel bus. Given what they had experienced, neither Harrington nor Coach denied the request when Taylor asked to stay with Lizzie. They holed up in the back, using their bulky bags as pillows and making a seamless fort out of the four blankets Taylor brought. Never once did she bring up what happened, but a heavier eye was on Lizzie the entire trip home whether Taylor tried to hide it or not. They spent the rest of the right watching Netflix on Taylor's phone, intermittently switching between that and blasting Nirvana in Lizzie's headphones.

After they pulled up at Midtown to see the barrage of concerned parents, Lizzie said her goodbyes to her friends on the bus before they were all separated. After struggling to release Taylor from their parting hug, she moved to give Michelle one next. Toward the middle of the bus was the boys, and she squeezed Abe's arm as she passed him. Even Eugene nodded at her, too exhausted to front his alter-ego right now. When she got to Peter and Ned, she had to decide in those five seconds if she would say something. Her hand patted against the seat in front of them to get their attention, making both flinch at the sound.

"Hey," she said quietly to the boys, noticing them glance warily her way. Lizzie gave them a small smile instead. "Get home safe."

Peter searched for anything more in her gesture before finding nothing unkind, and his features softened on her. "Thanks, Lizzie. You too...I'm sorry."

"Keep a tally, partner," was all she said before tapping the seat again and moving along. She gave Liz a hug and apologized to both her and Harrington again for having to miss the Decathlon. When they were all together again, she explained what had happened in a loose sob story that covered both herself and Parker's asses. He followed along, too distracted by the near-deaths of his classmates, which benefited Lizzie in the moment.

The softball bus had already arrived, leaving thirty minutes prior since they never unloaded the bus, but that meant Lizzie almost ran into C.T. as she got off the bus. The two girls shared painfully-forced smiles and moved around each other like a fuel to fire. Lizzie wanted to die. As everyone else left the bus one after another and met with their parents, she became hyper-focused on the two figures standing off to the right. Blending in and barely noticeable, but still sticking out to her because they were the only people she wanted to find. Her feet took her there as fast as they could without completely running.

"Ma?"

"Lizziebug," was choked out from her mother's voice and into her neck, arms wrapping themselves around her at what felt like every angle. After nearly sixteen years of being suffocated, she could distinguish the difference between her mother's death-grip and her father's secure hold. When one pair left, only Sophia Carter remained clutching onto her youngest daughter. Realizing that she was missing a family member (two, if she could handle that truth) she squeezed her mother once to invite a release.

"Where's Sammy?" she managed to get out through a crushed-larynx, her mother's shoulder digging into her throat. Lizzie didn't mind right now. "Ma, I love you to death, but please don't actually kill me—"

"Shut up, MJ."

"Shutting up," was Lizzie's response and she settled in her mother's arms, thankful when she finally loosened her hold. That allowed Lizzie to lean back and get a look at her parents, glancing between the two of them. Suddenly, she was grateful her Ma refused to let go because her lip started trembling. "Next time I bring up going there, don't let me."

Sophia Carter scoffed like that had already been decided when she received the phone call seven hours ago about the accident, but she didn't grovel in being right. Instead, she let go completely just to replace her hands elsewhere, holding onto her daughter's face and inspecting her for injuries.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she tried to develop X-ray vision to detect any hidden injuries. "Lang and Barton both reached out. They said they saw it on the news...and Sammy is with Happy right now. He came over as soon as he heard."

The mentioning of Happy Hogan made Lizzie's heart clench, knowing that among those who would feel responsible for what happened in D.C., he was on the list. "I'll explain everything when we get back to the apartment...um, can we...can we get out of here?"

"Yeah, of course. Are you going to say goodbye to anyone? I can go talk to Taylor or C.T.'s par—"

"No, no—"

Lizzie almost panicked her way out of her shoes, shaking her head and widening her eyes to physically lock her mother in front of her. Both of her parents were alarmed by the reaction, and she didn't know how to explain that C.T. had just broken up with her.

"Can we go home, please?"

Mike Carter took over, throwing his arms around both women with Lizzie in the center of them, guiding them back to the car without another word. If Lizzie looked back, she would see quite a number of eyes watching her go.

Back at the apartment, she had never been so excited to see her little brother. The second her father unlocked the apartment door, and she heard Sammy's giggling and Happy Hogan's happy whispers, a smile appeared on all three of the Carters' faces. None of the lights were on in the apartment, and all they could see was the faint glow of a flashlight underneath a mess of blankets in their living room. Not even the television could be seen, and they moved further into her home. Behind her, she heard her dad drop her softball bag and lock the door behind him. Lady appeared waging her tail, not being invited or not interested anymore in the blanket forts.

Lizzie pet her head on the way to the fort, and she grinned when she heard Sammy and Happy shushing themselves upon her invasion. Sammy tried to stay quiet but his giggling gave him away, and Lizzie softly knocked on the blanket where she assumed Happy's head was. "Knock, knock. Can I come in?"

"No giwls!" Sammy yelled back.

A gasp was heard from the other person inside. "Sammy! Your sister is not just a girl—she's the coolest girl, and she's your sister! Do you know how lucky you are?"

Lizzie's heart hurt as she listened to Happy talk so highly of her after she'd let a bomb go off in Washington, and then there was more hushed whispers before an arm started crawling out of the fort. Happy's head popped out and found her eyes, smiling up at her. She held her arms out to help him to his feet, and he gave her a nod when he was finally upright. Then, Happy surprised her by pulling her into his arms and squeezing her just as tightly as Sophia Carter had. An 'oof' escaped her mouth at the action, but she appreciated the gesture and smiled into Happy's shoulder.

"Thanks, Happy."

"I'm glad you and the kid are okay," he muttered, careful not to say anything too loud that Sammy could overhear. "We can talk in a few."

Lizzie nodded, and they let go of each other. She crouched down to find her way inside of the fort after that, leaving Happy to walk back to the kitchen where her parents were. Once inside, she was impressed to find all the furniture they collected in the process of making the fort. Tied to chairs were blankets, and twinkling lights that used to be on Ma's dining room wall were tucked into the knots and strung around. Lizzie felt safe in here, and she understood why Sammy would too as she found him looking at her with big, brown eyes.

"Hey, bub. Can I hide in here with you for a bit?"

Baby Sammy nodded, and she joined him in his blanket of safety, holding onto him until he fell asleep and her arms couldn't be felt any longer.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 ─ 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝟏𝟕 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

"It's good to see you, Lizzie."

"I'm sure it's a total coincidence our session got moved up."

"Maybe not such a coincidence. You get to see what I spent my last paycheck on, though."

Therapist Gracie, unknowingly, gained an extra point on Lizzie's book when she was swarmed with Halloween decorations. October had not yet started, but seeing others be excited about the holiday reminded her why it was her favorite. Small, white and black pumpkins paired with a lit, autumn candle swarmed her senses. A soft 'BOO!' pillow was currently being held like a lifeline in front of her, playing with the frayed edges to occupy her hands. Only fifty-nine more minutes until she could go home—and hear it all again.

Lizzie was waiting for Therapist Gracie's question: how are you doing? Because she'd been reciting, rewriting, and rehearsing her answer since her Ma told her that the appointment was moved up to today. The eight hours at school were dreadful, especially having returned from the Decathlon Trip, where the entirety of Midtown swarmed around the outcasts the second they were in danger and on the news. Flash reeled over the attention, but Lizzie suffocated underneath it. Not even her headphones were enough to block out the eyes on her—well, all except one pair. The only pair she wished would look her way.

"How are you doing?"

Instantly, Lizzie forgot everything she'd planned on saying. She hadn't prepared herself for the blow that the question would have when she heard it, and her fingers stilled against the pillow. Bravely, she jutted her jaw out and finally glanced up to meet with the woman's eyes. Gracie couldn't look safer, seated comfortably on the other side of the coffee table surrounded by an aura of Fall colors, staring at Lizzie like she had for months. Forgiving of all the mistakes and accepting of all the truths, and every time, Lizzie wished she could trust it completely.

"You ask that every time knowing my answer won't be the same in fifty-eight minutes," she answered, sticking her foot into a very-teenage response that made Gracie's lip twitch up. Her humanity always broke at some point, and every time, Lizzie felt accomplished to see it. "You don't need to ask first. D.C. sucked."

The admission made Gracie frown. "What happened? Well...I mean—"

"—besides the obvious," she finished for her, nodding as she pursed her lips to one side and considered where to start. Her heart leaned away from the hardest part. "How much did Tony tell you?"

"Just the basics. He told me to check on how you're doing after the lake." Her teeth ground together at the reminder. "What happened at the lake?"

Gracie didn't falter when Lizzie's eyes hardened at the question, an obvious indication that the question would not have been answered if she were anyone else. "I practiced my CPR training."

"On Spider-Man?"

Putting two-and-two together wasn't difficult. Lizzie didn't need the verbal confirmation. Her mouth flattened to a thin line. "Yes. On Spider-Man."

"It seems like Spider-Man is putting you in some difficult situations lately."

"'Difficult' is underselling it," she huffed, losing some of the tension and dropping her shoulders. Gracie's brow quirked in curiosity at her admission, waiting for her to continue. Lizzie looked at the clock again. Fifty-five minutes. She couldn't stall what happened, not with Therapist Gracie. Defeated, Lizzie sighed deeply and rubbed her hands over her face. "C.T. and I broke up, and honestly? I don't even blame her—because I know I suck—and there's no way for me to tell her the truth. I can't do that. I won't do that, even if it means she hates me forever, and I guess I haven't really had to deal with that feeling of lying since D.C. with..."

"...with Steve," Gracie finished softly.

The familiar pain in her chest came back to remind her it was still there.

"But that was different. I wasn't me. I wasn't...I had a different name, a story, a life that wasn't my own. This—" Lizzie shook her head unconsciously as darker thoughts prompted themselves, and she told herself no. "This feels too close. This feels like something I can't run away from."

"I know you said you were finished with...that life," Therapist Gracie clearly was not used to having a high-profile Avengers-in-training teenager as a client, and it showed in how she talked about that world. Lizzie liked that about her. It reminded her what she should be thinking had she not been born into that life. "I also know you're well aware of what General Ross is looking for to put you in a bad place. I'll keep saying this, because I want you to understand: I'm on your team. The last few weeks...you've put yourself in dangerous positions, Lizzie. That's a lot for anyone to handle. My priority is your safety—your well-being, no one else's unless they want to schedule an appointment themselves. So...can I ask, why are you doing all of this for Spider-Man?"

It was a good question. Lizzie knew that, but her answer was complicated and she wasn't entirely sure she could explain why she was doing so much to help Spider-Man. To help Peter. Because she felt bad for him? Because she would have done it for anyone? Neither of those were the truth, even if they were right in some respect. Therapist Gracie would see through the superficial answers, anyway.

"Because he's the complete opposite of me. He is trying to become a part of that life. He doesn't have anyone. No one that tells him their priority is his safety—his well-being," she began to explain, clasping her hands together tightly in front of her. She glanced down at them to avoid Gracie's eyes. "I see myself in him because I wanted that life as much as he did. I got excited like he does. I won't be the person who tells him to stop because it never worked for me, but..."

Therapist Gracie nodded when her words trailed off. "You don't want him to get hurt. You care about him."

"I worry about him," she corrected. "He reminds me of him."

"Of who?"

"Tony."

Therapist Gracie took a second with that revelation, sitting back in her seat as she took in the newfound descriptor of Peter Parker without actually knowing who Peter was. Lizzie didn't know how much the woman knew about the friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man, and so she remained careful with her words as not to give him away. The detail about his growing-shadow of Tony Stark was not an identifier in any way, but...in some ways, it was.

"And you're like Steve," Gracie put together what Lizzie was already aware of, although she may have disagreed to some degree. Steve was better than she would ever be. Lizzie would never live up to the titles people put on her. "Does that worry you? After..."

She almost smiled at Gracie's hesitancy to bring up one of her hardest truths and toughest traumas. "After I watched them argue for three years until it eventually broke up the Avengers and led me here?"

"That's the one."

"I don't know."

Lizzie wasn't afraid to admit that fear to the world, finally looking back up to brave Gracie's empathy head-on. She thought about the argument she had with Tony a few months ago now, and the hurtful words shared in the grief he had over his parents and the grief she had over her aunt and Sharon and Steve and Rhodey. She could hide her pain toward the man with anger, but that did not hide the worry she had for Peter. Tony was not her priority, but he was.

"I disagree with him on almost everything, and he never listens to me. I see why Steve got frustrated with Tony in those moments, and I want to trust him...but I feel like...if something happens to him, that's on me because I wasn't watching his back. I want to kill him most days—not literally, don't write me up on that—but I've already dug my hole next to his...so. I don't know. Maybe this is a one-time mission, but...I hope we'll be better than them. I want to be better than them."

Lizzie meant that truthfully, no matter how much it surprised her when she was honest with another person nowadays. Whether or not she and Peter continued to work together in the future, he would always be her responsibility to worry about because he needed someone. He needed someone who would care about him throughout the day, not just at the end of it. He needed someone who understood what happened throughout those days. While there wasn't much she could be sure on with Peter Parker, that much she knew—because she needed it, too.

"Because he understands you."

Lizzie wasn't so sure about that one, though. "No. No...he doesn't, and I don't want him to."

"Why is that?"

"Because that means he understands what I've lived through, and I'm a walking example of everything I hope he won't ever know."

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 ─ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐒

"Brake. Brake...MJ—"

"I'm pressing the brake!"

"BRAKE, LIZZIE—! Oh, Jesus Christ..." Mike Carter's hand went to his chest in a fit of pure fear for his life, the other holding onto the dashboard like that would help him in the event of rear-ending the Sedan in front of them. The red stop sign glared at them after the Sedan turned left, like a target instead of a destination. "Okay. Go straight. It's a less-occupied road."

Lizzie shot her dad a sharp look, then panicked when she saw a car coming behind them in the rearview mirror, so she slowly lifted her foot off the brake and rolled to the stop sign. "Dad, we're already on a side road!"

"Maybe we should've started in a parking lot."

"What do you mean?" she looked at him again, still panicking as she went through the stop sign. Like she had just done completely wrong, and her right foot nearly lifted off the pedal. "You can't say that while I'm driving!"

"Watch the road!"

Lizzie glared ahead, her eyes burning with tears. "I'm watching the road!"

"If I can see your eyes, you're not watching the road, MJ!"

The nickname prompted an onset of tears from Lizzie as she felt scolded from her father who never yelled, and they got five feet onto the side-road before she had to stop altogether. Her foot was still trying to press the gas when she tried to park, and so she revved the engine and nearly threw her heart up all over the steering wheel. Overwhelmed, Lizzie's wide, brown eyes turned to face her father and she felt like she was five-years-old again.

"Dad, I can't do this," she sniffled, hands in the air to put any kind of distance from herself and the wheel.

His face softened. "It's okay, Lizzie. You're doing great, okay?"

"You're yelling at me!"

"I'm not yelling at you," her father dismissed instantly, while also knowing his voice may have raised in fear if anything. "I'm not. I'm so proud of you. It just scares me, is all. Cars are scary things. Accidents can happen, and I want you to be as safe as possible. I want to teach you the right way, so you're safe."

Lizzie's lip quivered. "I'm going to throw up."

"Maybe we need to have Ma teach yo—"

"Oh, my God—No!"

Mike and Lizzie Carter wished Steve Rogers was there right now to save the day and stop her tears, but he was not coming. Not for this one.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

𝟐𝟎 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

When Peter didn't show up to the scheduled meeting by Principal Morita after lunch (where he definitely was with Ned, soaking in all of the praise from Spider-Man's rescue), Lizzie's irritation was muted by her utter exhaustion. That morning, she had to explain to Coach that she and C.T. had broken up, but that it would not complicate anything on the team—despite spending all morning avoiding each other, even if it meant missing a ball. Then, she had to endure an awkward lunch when Art brought up that he was going to homecoming with Teagen, a girl on their team, which made Lizzie sad and happy for him at the same time—because he was happy about it, and so she would be too.

But that prompted the conversation of: "Lizzie, are you going?" which made Lizzie realize (after forgetting for three minutes) that she got broken-up with by the girl she was planning on asking to the dance, and she mourned all over again. She skipped her lunch and that question, thankful for Taylor changing the topic to Eli's upcoming fall game. Principal Morita was a welcomed distraction in light of her day so far, only because she knew exactly what he was going to say.

"I understand you and Mister Parker were both absent from the Academic Decathlon, and I'm sorry for having to discuss these events after what you and your classmates experienced, but I wanted to check on you and ask what happened prior to..." Principal Morita obviously wasn't happy his students almost died under his signature. Neither was she. "Now, Mister Harrington mentioned that you had a softball game as well that day for our school's team—"

"Yes, sir. It got cancelled after...well..."

Lizzie didn't need to go on either, seeing how Principal Morita winced at the reminder. Everyone knew what happened to the students in D.C. after Betty made sure to cover both the victory and the tragedy every morning this past week, plus the incident had been covered on National and International News being that a National Monument was almost blown up in the Capital of the country. Exactly not under the radar. The teenage girl sat up straighter in her seat, knowing where the conversation was headed. Now being asked the questions, Lizzie had to appreciate Peter's absence—she'd come to learn he was the absolute worst at lying, and no one would believe her lies if he horribly corroborated it.

"I'm not sure how much you know, sir, but...as you've probably seen on my transcript, I spent some time in D.C. with my sister. I knew the place...um, some not-so-great things happened when I lived there, so I woke up in that mindset and needed to take a walk. I didn't go far, just to a diner across the street. You can call Martha, the waitress who works there, and she will tell you I was there all morning. Peter knows about what happened, and he was there to help."

Natasha told her that the best lies must contain some level of truth. Lizzie didn't enjoy lying and manipulating to get out of problems, and being able to convince someone of a fabricated event so easily made her stomach queasy. It reminded her that, if she were capable, others were as well—and that meant she couldn't trust the words of others as easily as she used to. Martha would cover for her. After their game was cancelled due to the response teams needing them to clear the entire area (including the field), the Decathlon Team and softball team holed up at Liberty Cafe. Lizzie had a panic attack in the bathroom. Seeing C.T. worried when she returned to the table didn't make anything better.

"Oh, Lizzie...I had no idea...I'm sorry. I know it couldn't have been easy to experience what you and your classmates did that day. I saw Peter earlier, but he seemed...not like himself. Could you please tell him that, while I understand he is processing things, his absences are becoming a problem out of my hands? I've already reached out to his aunt. He skipped his detention yesterday, as well. If either of you would like to speak to the counseling center—"

Lizzie anticipated that response, and she wished she could knock some sense into Peter but there was little that would do that now. She thought him dropping his extracurriculars was the worst of his academic decline, but now that he was purposefully skipping classes and detention meant he simply didn't care at all about what his future looked like—but Lizzie cared, and if that meant changing her schedule so she could babysit him for the rest of the year, she would do that. Just to piss him off.

She just hoped he remembered to water Padme. Otherwise she'd kill him.

"I'll definitely tell him. I'm sorry for all of the stress, Principal Morita. Seriously," she meant her words, frowning as she shrugged at the man. "I'm just trying to have a normal school year. I never meant to be an added problem to what happened at the Monument. I'm already seeing a therapist, but I will extend the resource to Peter, too."

Maybe they needed partners-therapy.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

After school, Lizzie had to continue pretending like she wasn't dying inside and everything was fine. Like she hadn't experienced the events in D.C., and Coach seemed eager to do that with practice. The weather was hot and sunny, a pretty day, but not for outdoor sports. Art waving to the left of the Midtown Softball dugout caught her attention as they went through different drills, and she knew whatever it was, it wasn't good. Lizzie pushed herself off the fence in the dugout, thankful that Taylor was out on the field so she wouldn't be urged to come as well. Lizzie had to explain to her assistant coach that she needed to leave practice early, and she would take the extra sit-ups tomorrow morning as a result. That was enough of a trade for the last thirty-minutes of practice, although the actions were not unnoticed by her ex-girlfriend.

As Lizzie packed her stuff together in a rush, she ignored the feeling of C.T. watching her every move. The tiny, little knife continued to stab into her heart like the older girl had a personal voodoo doll of Lizzie, but even she knew that was irrational to believe. If Lizzie was brave enough to return the eye contact, she would see C.T. in just as much pain as she was. In record time, she had collected her belongings and moved through her teammates with a few waves and grins goodbye, all while maintaining a growing panic over Art.

"What's wrong?" Lizzie asked the second she was in earshot of her friend, out of breath and stuck with sweat to her uniform. That didn't matter to her, and she threw her bag over her shoulder as she finally stood in front of him. "What happened?"

Art looked worried, but the worry was outward. "It's Peter."

Dread filled up to her lungs and she swore she stopped breathing. He'd gone and gotten himself killed. She didn't have her phone for two hours—

"What happened?" she repeated, trying her hardest not to assume anything when there were too many things to assume. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know," was the response Lizzie didn't want to hear. "Ned and I were having robotics club, and he mentioned that Peter had detention again today, and then my Twitter started blowing up with news about Spider-Man—you know the Staten Island Ferry? Never mind, of course you do, he...well, he split it in half."

Lizzie blinked, unable to comprehend what was just said.

"He what?"

"I know. Trust me. I know." Art emphasized his words to show he did understand just how insane what he said sounded, but also entirely within the realm of Peter Parker's possibilities. Lizzie ran her hands through her sweaty hair, holding its tangles back in her fingers like a makeshift headband while she stared at Art in a panic. "Look, the last update they gave was that Iron Man showed up and put the ferry back together. No one on the ferry was hurt, but they said Spider-Man was fighting guys with weapons—"

Suddenly, all of it made sense.

"—and nothing else was said about Spider-Man, just that he swung away. So...I thought you might want to know. I don't know if he's hurt."

Lizzie couldn't assume he wasn't. Not when she had seen what the weapons were capable of now and new perfectly well just how easily Parker put himself in the line of fire. Even with Tony there to save the day again, that didn't mean he was actually there. He could've used another shell suit. If she hadn't been there when he pulled them out of the lake, Peter might have died. Maybe not. But her worst thoughts crept on her, as well as her doubts for Tony Stark. Her cleats scuffed against the cement, and she glanced down at her feet to give herself a moment to think about what to do next.

Peter removed his tracker from the suit, which meant she couldn't find him even if she wanted to. The only person who did know where he was just so happened to be the last person on Earth she wanted to talk to, save a person or two. Lizzie finally released her hands from her hair, and they dropped at her side in defeat.

"Did you drive to school today?" she asked him, hopeful. God, she needed her license, but after the lessons she had with her father, that felt impossible to achieve.

Art nodded, pulling his lanyard out of his pockets. "Yeah, where do you want me to go?"

"I need to call someone first, and then I'll let you know."

"Okay, sure. Do you want me to wait in my car? I can pull it up."

"Yes, please. It'll just be a second," she promised, then the two of them separated for the time being as she moved to one of the ugly-yellow benches set up on their campus. Lizzie could still hear the sound of softballs hitting aluminum behind her, and she had to drown it out as she found the one contact on her phone that she'd never used.

Tony Stark picked up immediately, which meant he was likely in his suit. "Hello?"

No joke upon answer. The events had warranted seriousness out of the man—or, perhaps, he just finally realized how truthful Lizzie was when she said those words at the Avengers Facility.

"Where is he?" she asked immediately, not bothering to greet him or fake any niceties. "Is he okay?"

"Everyone on the ferry is fine, yeah. No thanks to your plant partner."

"Don't put this all on him."

A visible scoff was heard on the other end. "He's fine. He wasn't ready for the suit, Lizzie."

"You don't get to make that choice for him now!" she hissed out, trying her hardest not to shout but it was useless. The athletic fields were now the victim of her glare, the only thing she could focus on as her anger grew at the man on the other line. "You don't get to give him this, and then take it away when he makes a mistake. You're supposed to BE THERE and HELP him before he makes it! Don't you DARE pin this all on him. Don't you dare take something away from him that isn't yours to take away."

Not a sound was heard from the other line for the longest time, and that angered her more as she resisted the urge to launch the phone he controlled all the way to the school's main building.

"Park Hill. Check Park Hill."

Lizzie didn't say any more, hanging up the phone and leaving the conversation there with no resolution. The problems she had with Tony would have to be pushed away for another day, and she was perfectly fine with that. Not seconds later did her phone ring again, this time with Aunt May's name appearing on the screen. She winced and answered the phone just as Art appeared next to the curb.

"Hello?" she asked, walking over to the car as she did so.

"Lizzie! Hey, I'm so sorry to call. I just—have you seen or heard from Peter? I haven't heard from him all day, and I'm worried after hearing about this accident—"

Lizzie's heart hurt to tell her the truth, gnawing on her lower lip. "I'm sorry, May. I haven't heard from him, but I just got out of practice. I can look around the school and see if he's here."

"Oh, thank you so much, Lizzie."

"Of course, May. Anytime...hey, he'll show up."

The sniffling of a worried parent was a painful trigger for her after all the months hearing her own mothers sobs, and Lizzie couldn't bear to hear it. "I'm sure he will. It's just hard...he's been to himself so much lately, and I worry."

"I'm always keeping an eye on him, May. I promise."

"Thanks, Lizzie. That...that means a lot."

Lizzie smiled against the phone and nodded once to herself, now more determined than ever to find Peter and bring him home to his Aunt May. They hung up, and she opened the passenger side door to Art's older brother's hand-me-down Ford Fusion.

"Park Hill," she relayed to Art, who put the address into his phone while she threw her bags into his backseat. As she buckled in, she went to her Twitter app and searched for Spider-Man to find any pictures of him splitting a ferry in half. "He doesn't know that you know, Art. I haven't told him...so if you want to drop me off, I can...I'll walk back with him or something."

"Lizzie, that's dumb. I can take you home."

Lizzie frowned, shaking her head. "I don't want you involved."

"Horrible reason. Like really terrible," Art said as he drove out of Midtown's parking lot. She had gotten a text message already from Happy Hogan, who promised her that he would call her later and tell her what happened. She loved Happy. "You have to tell me a little more than that—and don't say 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you' because I know you won't so it's a useless threat."

"Fine," she decided, looking up from her phone. "The United States Government has me under a close eye, and I don't want you on whatever scary hit-list they're creating of everyone who has ever known me."

More like HYDRA, but she wouldn't tell him that part of her life.

"Oh."

Lizzie snorted at his answer. "Yeah. Oh."

"Well..." Arthur Langley considered his options, and the reality that leaving two baby Avengers to walk themselves home (when one of them was Spider-Man, too) wasn't exactly as bad as leaving two of his decently-average friends. "Yeah, okay. Marginalized communities and United States Government don't really mesh well, so...I'll drop you off."

"Thanks, Art."

"Just...make sure he's okay," and then he paused, turning to look at her when they hit a red light. "Are you doing okay? With everything? You haven't been eating. Taylor said...she said you and C.T. broke up. I'm sorry, MJ."

Lizzie should have been prepared for that, but it still caused a wave of heat to rush through her. What she hadn't expected was the direct question, seeing as she still hadn't told her parents yet and no one else besides Coach brought it up to her. Therapist Gracie had been distracted by the conversation of Peter Parker long enough that she avoided it, but now she was caged in. Art proved he wasn't blind, and she appreciated that, even if the topic made her want to jump out of the window. Instead, she rolled it down.

"It's okay," she nodded, convinced if she said it enough she would believe it. "I want her to be happy, so...if this makes her happy."

"Still sucks."

Lizzie cracked a grin even through the pain, and she nodded his way. "Yeah. It does...can I ask you a question?"

"Does it have to do with my date to Homecoming?" he asked, already knowing where her head was at. Lizzie's grin disappeared and she let out a hum of agreement, and he responded with a sigh. "She's...it's not like that. We talked at Liz's party for a few minutes—she was with Taylor, and...I don't know. It's not romantic, and she's getting over her ex-girlfriend right now."

"I'm not questioning what you do and never will, regardless of who you date now or in the future. You do whatever you want, and I'll love you all the same."

Art smiled. "Same to you, Blindspot."

Lizzie ignored the piercing pain as she heard the sounds of others in the nickname now. The rest of their drive was short, up until they got to the corner where they could see a glimpse of a familiar face walking along the street. He stood out, wearing bright pink pajama pants, and they shared a look with one another as Art let her out on the street. She promised to text him when she got home and grabbed her bag out of the backseat, then she went in the direction of the teenage boy. When she got closer and saw Peter, she sighed and adjusted her softball bag on her shoulder. Surprisingly, his neck craned like he recognized something, and not long after was he looking around trying to locate it. Then, she understood that he was trying to find her. Lizzie raised her eyebrows and they met in the middle.

"Please, not now, MJ."

She plopped her bag down between them, crouching down and taking hold of the hoodie she packed that morning. Zipping the bag back up, she dropped the material into his hands and hoisted it back over her shoulder without saying a single word. Then, she took the time to inspect what he was wearing, down to the Hello Kitty pajama pants that had been rolled up against his hips. That couldn't be seen since he wore an oversized 'I SURVIVED MY TRIP TO NYC' T-shirt. He looked pitiful, and she couldn't even find it funny.

Peter stared at the hoodie with a frown then put it on without questioning it, looking down at the front once it was on. A softball hoodie, in grey, and he wished he could remember if her name was on the back when she handed it to him. He hoped not. Peter frowned and watched as Lizzie went to the curb of the street, hailing a taxi with ease and ordering him to follow her. Like she lived there herself, she gave Peter's address and they were off.

"I don't have any money," he muttered to her, his eyes focused on his hands. Lizzie's outstretched and laid overtop his, giving them a squeeze. Peter finally met eyes with her after the kind gesture, and she nudged against his side with her own, grinning. "What?"

"I have money."

"I'm sorry."

Her smile fell. "You don't need to apologize, Peter."

The ride home was quiet after that. Peter didn't question the change in her actions because he had a feeling she knew what happened—and he didn't mean the ferry— but it was unnerving. The kindness of the older girl was only ever seen toward others, and now she was acting like they had been best friends since childhood and she was picking him up after a bad job interview. Even down to the short exchange between herself and the driver as she handed him money along with a nice tip, Lizzie kept the conversation to a minimum and never pushed the boundaries Peter created when she found him on the street.

Finally, when they got to his floor of the apartment complex, she tugged on the sleeve of her hoodie and kept him from moving forward with a mope. "Hey...head up, partner."

Peter frowned over at her. "She's going to hate me."

"Her being angry just means she's worried. She loves you. Remember that."

When Lizzie and Peter arrived at the Parker apartment door, she was reminded that she hadn't visited since before Berlin. Much less talked to May, and she scolded herself for that one. Knocking on the door for Peter, she was instantly welcomed by the woman and the smell of banana bread cooking in the kitchen. Although, it did smell slightly burnt. That only meant she was cooking out of panic—to get her mind off Peter being missing again. May's eyes were warm when they caught sight of her, but then they noticed Peter standing off to the side and filled up with tears behind her glasses.

Lizzie ducked her head when May wrapped her arms around him, pulling him inside of the apartment and she followed in awkwardly behind. She didn't want to overstay and involve herself in a conversation she had no part of, but interrupting May when she started her warpath seemed scarier. "I've been calling you all day. You didn't answer your phone—you can't do that, and then this ferry thing happens. I've called five police stations. Five! I called five of your friends, Lizzie included—"

"I'm fine..."

"I called Ned's mother—"

"May...I'm okay. Honestly, just relax. I'm fine."

"Peter," Lizzie brought attention to herself, noticing the way May was becoming even more upset by his dismissiveness. He would not look back at her, instead choosing to tilt his head in her direction to show he was listening. "I'm going to head out...May, it's really nice to see you again."

Peter nodding was the only answer she got, and May giving her a soft smile over his head as she laid her hands on her nephew's shoulders. A look was exchanged between May and Lizzie, a promise kept between the two. Lizzie raised her hand in a small wave, and then she grabbed a hold of the apartment door and pulled it behind her. The second a barrier was put between them, air expelled from her mouth and she ran her hands over her face. Not willing to stay any longer and overhear something personal, Lizzie moved down the hallway—unaware that Peter Parker had been waiting until he could no longer hear her familiar heartbeat to continue talking to May.

"Okay," his aunt started with more firmness than she held in Lizzie's company. "Cut the bullshit. I know you left detention. I know you left the hotel room in Washington. I know you sneak out of this house every night. That's not fine. Peter, you have to tell me what's going on. Just lay it out. It's just me and you."

No longer needing to hide his tears from Lizzie, they fell. "I lost the Stark internship."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?" May asked softly.

"I just thought that I could work really hard, and he could—he would, you know...but I screwed it up," and that was the moment Peter realized he may not be cut out for the life of a superhero. He fell onto the bench in their kitchen as his aunt came over, and she held him and comforted him like she always had from the day he learned how to cry. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

"You know..." she muttered as she glanced down at him. "I'm not trying to ruin your life."

"Yeah...I know."

"Just...I used to sneak out, too...and I know you and Lizzie have been getting closer—" Peter suddenly froze in May's arms, not liking where she was headed with her conversation. "—and that you were together in D.C...look, I'm glad the two of you are getting closer, I just want to make sure you're..."

"May. May, no—it's not...it's not like that. I like Liz—"

"Yeah, Lizzie—"

"No, Liz," he emphasized, shaking his head. Peter couldn't continue to correct people on his crush, constantly finding himself in this position when he revealed that he liked someone. "Liz Allen...not...not Lizzie. Lizzie is just..."

"...a friend?" Aunt May finished for him slowly, but her eyes held a much more knowing look that Peter didn't appreciate. She was barely a friend. "Okay. Okay. Well, then please go take a shower. You smell like garbage. I'm sure Liz doesn't like that."

"I know."

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Author's Note:

This chapter was like that part in the movie where you see the teenage girl trying to pretend everything is fine but she just broken up with, and everyone is trying to kill her, and she has to babysit Peter Parker—in montage form. I wish I could explain how much it breaks my heart to write badly about Tony, but a lot of important points were made in this chapter that *will* come up later. And some foreshadowing if you have your magnifying glasses.

On that note, here's a fun one: what are you most excited to see in the future? Involving Lizzie? Let's do these in a few parts:

Who are you most excited to see?

What are you most excited to see from the movies?

What are you most excited to see about Lizzie?

(Side note: took a Hogwarts House test for Lizzie. She's a Hufflepuff.)