Chapter Text
Morgan wanted to know everything. She knew a lot, but there were millions of things that she did not understand. She had questions, more than she could count on her fingers. Some days, she was sure that her head would explode if any more came to mind. Peter told her that was impossible; that could only happen to cartoon characters.
Even with all the questions sloshing around in her brain, she knew three things for sure:
- The world was destroyed in a massive loud blast when I was a baby, but Petey and I are safe in Room.
- Petey is the best big brother ever!
- Superheroes used to be real.
“Petey, Petey, Petey!” Morgan chanted; she kicked the duvet off her legs and playfully nudged her brother’s arm, many times, to wake him.
The sun was beaming through the skylight, it was morning, so they didn’t need to be asleep anymore.
Princess Anna said it best. The sky’s awake, so I’m awake, so we have to play!
“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
Peter smacked his lips together and muttered sleepily, “Hm?” He didn’t even open his eyes, “…Yeah?”
“Wake up, silly!” Morgan turned; she pressed the back of her head against his hip and stretched her arms out in the air, “I’m six today!”
Peter shook his head as he fought for the duvet, “No way.”
“Yes, way!” Morgan excitedly thumped her feet against the wall.
“No, no…” Peter stretched to ruffle the back of her hair, “Your birthday was last year.”
Morgan rolled back into a lying position, so she could look him in the eye, “It happens every year!”
Peter narrowed his eyes, “Really?”
“Yeah…”
“Oh…” He bopped her nose, “And you’re sure it’s today?”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
“Wow.” Peter tied his arms around her waist and dragged her into a hug, “You’re so grown up!”
Morgan laid her head on his shoulder, “As big as you?”
“Ummm, almost…” Peter hummed; he sat up and guided her down onto the floor, “Ah….” He clapped his hands, “Do you want your present now or later?”
Morgan loved her birthday. Usually, they only got treats on a Sunday. It was a Monday, but it was her special day, so that meant more surprises.
Morgan jumped onto the bed, “Now!” She yelled, “Please!”
Peter shook his head but laughed; he did that a lot. “Excuse me, birthday girl.” He sang.
Morgan bounced over to the end of the bed.
Peter buried his hand down the back and pulled out a package wrapped in old newspaper and tape. She hadn’t seen him wrap or hide it; he must have done it when she was sleeping, in the wardrobe, after Bad Beck left. It was a clever hiding spot. Morgan wouldn’t have looked there.
She thought she knew about all the hiding spots in Room, but Peter always found new ones; he was super-duper clever, “Here you go.”
Morgan took the package and hugged it close to her chest. Excitement shot through her, zoom zoom! She couldn’t stop smiling or jumping; it was like she had eaten too much sugar. This was already the best birthday ever, “What is it?”
Peter shrugged, “You’re gonna have to open it.”
“Okay!” Morgan tore the paper away fast, “Wow!” It was a book, and she loved books more than the television, “Harry Potter and the….”
Peter guided his finger along with the words to make it easier for her to read, “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.”
Morgan grinned, wider than the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, “The story you told me about!”
“Yeah.” Peter nodded, tapping the cover. The book had a picture on the front. A drawing of a boy that Morgan knew was Harry Potter, he was sitting on his broomstick, zooming through the night sky, “It was MJ’s favourite. She made me watch the movies a trillion times!”
MJ used to be Peter’s girlfriend before she was killed by the big blast.
Morgan wished she remembered MJ; she sounded awesome, “Wow.” Morgan squeezed the book, excited to read it. Peter had told her about Harry Potter before; she knew he was a wizard but couldn’t remember much else. She’d never seen the movies, they were never on the television, and the DVD player broke when she was two.
“You like it?”
Morgan crashed into Peter’s open arms, “I love it!” She held on extra tight, “Thank you!”
“No problem, M.” He kissed her cheek and helped her onto her feet, “I’m gonna make breakfast.” He headed over to the kitchen cupboards.
Morgan placed her book with the others on the small cabinet that sat between the bed and the wardrobe door. They only had six other books. Two that she couldn’t read because they were written for grown-ups, and the other four they had read too many times to count. She drummed her knuckles against her new book, “Read you later.” She promised in a whisper.
She moved to the centre of Room, with a skip in her step. She looked up at the Skylight. It was the only place they could see Space. They didn’t have windows, and the door was just a big grey slab with no gaps to peep through.
She waved at the clear blue sky, “Good morning everyone!” She jumped as high as she possibly could without Peter’s help, “It’s my sixth birthday today!” She scrunched her nose and spun around to face her brother, “Petey?”
Peter was busy pouring cereal into their bowls, “Um.”
“Can they hear me up in heaven?” She asked, referring to all the people they lost in the blast. She didn’t remember them; she was only a baby when it happened.
Tony was her daddy, and Pepper was her mommy - they had been Peter’s too but in a different way. There was Aunt May, Uncle Happy and Uncle Rhodey. There was Ned and of course, MJ too. So many people to love and speak to every single day, she must have really loved them when she was one.
Peter was too busy getting the milk out of the fridge, he nodded, but she could tell he was only half-listening, he did that all the time.
She only did it sometimes.
“Isn’t it loud?” Morgan climbed onto her seat at the table, “With all those other people.”
“They use special…” Peter turned around, holding Morgan’s breakfast, “…Headphones.” He placed the bowl down but with too much force, he sometimes forgot that he had superhero strength.
The milk splashed over the sides.
“It’s a milk tsunami!” Morgan shouted, throwing her hands back. It was not a real one. If it was, Room would be filled to the top, and they would have no space left. They saw a real tsunami on television, it was a very sad movie from a long time ago - Peter turned it off because it was too grown-up for Morgan.
“Oh no,” Peter hid behind his chair, she loved it when he played pretend, “Take cover, M.”
“Not a real one, silly.”
“Oh,” Peter stood up, “Let’s clean this up.”
“Up, up, up.” Morgan chanted, with a mouthful of Cocoa Krispies, “So Bad Beck doesn’t blow-up!”
“You got it, Morgs.” Peter picked a cloth up from out of the sink, he wiped away the spillage and then took his bowl from the counter, he carefully placed it on the table.
Morgan finished her last few mouthfuls of cereal and noticed that Peter was scribbling down the list for Bad Beck, “Petey, can we get some chocolate this time?”
“No.” He shook his head, “Sorry. We’ll have to wait.”
Morgan pushed her spoon around the bowl, messing with her leftover milk, “How long?”
“Two weeks.”
“No fair!” She threw her spoon, it rolled across the table.
“Morgan…”
“I want chocolate!”
“I know….” Peter rested his chin on his hand, “But chocolate’s only for Sunday treat, and your book was yesterday’s treat. And this Sunday, we need a new blanket.”
Morgan kicked her foot against the bottom of the table, “I don’t want a stupid blanket!”
“We need to keep warm.” Peter said, using his strict voice, Morgan didn’t like this Peter, “Remember, one of the heaters broke.”
“We can wear sweaters!”
“Morgan…”
“I want chocolate!”
“Stop shouting, M, please.” Peter hid his face behind his hands, and his knee bounced so much, it moved the table, “Listen…” He got up, “You know about Spider-Man?” He asked, kneeling beside her.
Morgan rolled her eyes, “Um-hm, that’s you.”
“You got it,” Peter reached up and took her hand, “And you know everything I can do, but there are some things I can’t do.”
That didn’t sound right, Morgan thought superheroes could do anything, “Like what?”
“Well, Spiders can’t thermoregulate.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry, big word.” He hummed, “It means that I can’t keep myself warm as well as you can.”
“'Cause you’re part spider?”
“Technically, yeah.”
Morgan didn’t know any of this when she was five, it was too much responsibility. Now, she was six, she had to take care of her brother, and not just the other way around, “Do…do spiders die and go to heaven, in the cold?”
Peter’s forehead creased, “…Sometimes.”
Tears filled her eyes, and her chest started to hurt, “Hm.” She didn’t want Peter to die, he was way more important than chocolate, “Will you…”
“No…” Peter pulled her into a hug, “No, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Let’s get…” Her voice wobbled, “Let’s get loads and loads of blankets!”
Peter laughed, “We only need one.”
“I can wait for chocolate.”
“Yeah?”
Morgan pulled him closer, “Love you more.”
“Love you, infinity.” He leaned back and pushed Morgan’s hair behind her ear, “Is there something you want for dinner this week?”
“Um…” She hiccupped, “Pasta?”
“He can do that.” Peter jumped up and reached for the scrap piece of paper, “Do you want orange or apple juice?”
“Orange.”
“Got it.”
Peter turned on the television after he finished the list.
Morgan stared at the screen, like a brain-eating zombie, because Spongebob was on, and that was her favourite show ever. Frozen II was her favourite movie, but she had only seen it twice. She liked the first one, but it was played on the television too much.
Morgan decided to stay in her pyjamas because it was her birthday, and she was in charge.
The morning blurred into one. During the advert breaks, Morgan hopped, from one side of the room to the other. Her starting point was the bed, which was tucked up against the left wall, and the endpoint was the bath, which was on the right side.
Her record was four hops. Peter’s was one!
Peter got on with his chores. He jogged around Room, making the bed and washing their clothes in the bathtub. He cleaned up their small messes as he went along.
Bad Beck hated mess, that was another thing Morgan knew, but she didn’t know for sure because she had never spoken to him herself. Peter told her that Bad Beck ‘demanded perfection,’ she wasn’t sure what that meant, and she didn’t ask because it made Peter sad.
Morgan and Peter were the only two humans left, out of seven billion. There was a big blast and then everyone was gone.
They were lucky because they were locked safely in Room.
Outside Room, there was outer space, which went on forever and ever.
Bad Beck was a creature that could breathe in space, he looked like a human, but Peter said that he wasn’t.
Morgan did not like Bad Beck, not one bit, but he was the one who used magic to find them food and other stuff, so they had to be nice. She never saw him, only through the small gaps in the wardrobe, where she slept whenever he came.
Peter marched over; he turned the television off. Morgan stared up at him and frowned, “I wanted to watch the next one.”
“We don’t have time.” Peter explained, “Too much birthday stuff to get done.”
“Really?!”
“Yep.”
“Like what?”
Peter pointed to the kitchen surface, “We’re going to make pancakes.”
“Make?”
“You know when we get them wrapped in plastic?” He asked, she nodded, “Today, we’re going to make them from scratch.”
“How do we do that?”
Peter held up a scruffy piece of paper, “By following instructions.”
“That’s so cool!” Morgan jumped up, happy to try something new, “'Cause I don’t like cake.”
“I know.”
Cooking pancakes was harder than she thought it would be. It wasn’t like when they came wrapped up in plastic. They had to measure the ingredients, mix them to make the batter and then cook them. It was tricky but very very fun. Especially when Peter flipped them in the air and caught them with the frying pan, all while making silly noises.
“Can we eat them yet?”
“Soon.” Peter said, not looking up from the pan, “We’ve gotta make a few first.” Morgan started to poke the half-full bag of flour, Peter jolted to the side, “Morgan, don’t—” It was too late, her finger cut through the bag, splitting it open, and it fell onto its side. A dust cloud of flour followed, it went everywhere - the surface, floor and all over her clothes.
“Oh, no,” Morgan’s lower lip wobbled, she darted her eyes around the mess. Beck wouldn’t be happy and that would make Peter sad. She didn’t want that.
“Ah…” Peter turned the hob off and threw the frypan off to the side, “Don’t cry, Morgs…” He brushed his hand against her cheek as she babbled, “It’s okay, I can clean it up.” He nudged her chin, “Can you stay super still for me?”
Morgan hiccuped out a small, “Yeah.”
Peter moved quicker than she had ever seen him move, he wiped the flour off the countertop into the trash, followed by the mess on the floor. She got out of her pyjamas and changed into clean clothes from the draw, Peter put the dirty clothes into the bath, ready to be cleaned later.
“See, M.” Peter scooped her up into his arms, “All gone.”
She hooked her heels around his middle and laid her head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”
“Wasn’t your fault,” He rubbed circles against her back, “It was a mistake. They happen.” He squeezed her arm gently, “You wanna eat some pancakes?”
“Yes, please.”
Morgan sat on Peter’s lap at the table to enjoy her pancakes, she wasn’t sure why she was upset, Peter told her it was okay, but she couldn’t get rid of the knot in her tummy. She always felt better when she was hanging onto her big brother, “You like them?” He asked, with his mouth full.
“Yeah.”
Peter cleared his throat with a rough cough, he let out a strange squeak. He looped his hands under her arms and placed her onto the floor, he leapt out of his seat.
“Petey?”
Peter fell down beside the toilet and threw up into the bowl; Morgan stood by the table, unsure of what she could do.
Peter couldn’t eat a lot of sugar. It was like there was a monster that lived in his tummy and whenever he ate sugary things, it kicked them out, back up into his mouth and he would barf into the toilet. Once when he was really poorly, he was sick on the floor, and Bad Beck was very angry about the smell.
It wasn’t Peter’s fault though.
When they first moved into Room, Bad Beck didn’t get them enough food, and Morgan was just a baby, so Peter made sure she got most of it.
Bad Beck was too scary, so Peter did whatever he was told to do.
Morgan waddled over to his side, she sat on her heels and rested her hand on his back. Peter looked at her, with a half-smile, “Thank you, M.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
She didn’t say anything, but she knew he was lying.
Peter was tired after he finished throwing up, he had a nap in their bed. Morgan watched television but she sat really close to the screen because Peter was snoring super loud.
When Peter woke up, Morgan knew exactly what time it was. She climbed onto the bed and stood underneath the small ventilation shaft that was high up, near the edge of the ceiling.
Peter stood on the side of the bath and reached for the inside of the wall.
Morgan watched, amazed, as he climbed up and stuck to the ceiling, with a single palm.
Peter bent his head back to look at her, “Ready?”
“Yep!”
Peter punched the skylight with his free hand and screamed. Morgan leapt into action, she screeched up at the vent, while jumping up and down. Their cries bounced around Room. It was a horrible ugly noise, but it was very big, the biggest sound Morgan knew.
They did this every day.
It made their ears ring like pennies were trapped inside their skulls, moving around.
Morgan wasn’t particularly sure why they did it, Peter said that their Auntie Carol, and Uncle Thor, who were very far away, might one day be able to hear them. Then they could leave Room and go somewhere bigger. No more Bad Beck! Yay!
“Uh…” Morgan stopped when Peter did. She moved her tongue around, across her gums, screaming made her mouth dry. She looked at her brother, he was still hanging off the ceiling, with his forehead pressed against his arm, “Why can’t they hear us?”
“I guess…” Peter trailed off, “We’re not loud enough yet.”
Morgan placed a hand on her hip, “Then let’s scream louder.”
“Alright.”
They did.
No one screamed back.
Morgan didn’t like how quickly days went by. It was night-time. Her birthday was almost over and she would have to wait another year for the next one, “Why do I have to wait so long?”
“Um…” Peter took Morgan’s toothbrush and put the toothpaste on, “It’s just how birthdays work. Don’t worry, we’ve got Easter soon.”
“And your birthday.”
“Yeah, but that’s a long way away.” He bent down to help her clean her teeth, “Let’s…”
She held her hand out to grab her toothbrush, “I can do it!”
He tilted his head to the side, “You can?”
“Yes!” She shouted, “I’m six now.”
“Yeah, you are.” He handed her the brush, she started to clean her teeth while he did his.
After, Morgan sprawled across the bed, flickering through one of her picture books. Peter was busy tidying, he was huffing and puffing, that could only mean one thing.
Morgan closed her book and rolled over on her front to watch him.
He was rushing around, muttering under his breath, “Uh…” She knew what was happening, “Petey…”
Peter was placing a folded pile of clean dry clothes in the drawers that were under Morgan’s small bed in the wardrobe, “Yeah?”
“Is Bad Beck coming tonight?”
Sometimes, Bad Beck didn’t come on Mondays. She was hoping the answer was ‘no.’
Peter stepped back, but left the wardrobe doors open, “Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry, M,” Peter knelt beside their bed, “He’s not gonna stay for long.”
“Okay…” Morgan reached out, “Can we read Harry Potter?”
“Umm…” Peter held his arm back to check his watch, his shoulders sank down, “No time left tonight.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Peter smiled, he nudged her chin up, “Promise.”
Morgan sat up and stretched her arms over her head. She yawned, being six was more tiring than being five.
“You tired?”
She went to speak but was interrupted by another yawn, she couldn’t argue with that.
Peter chuckled and held out his arms, “Come on.” Morgan shuffled forward, he picked her up, “Did you have a good birthday?”
“Yep,” She mumbled, “Can we eat more pancakes in the morning?”
Peter laid her down on the mattress inside the wardrobe, “Of course.” He pulled the blanket up and tucked her in, nice and snug, “We can have a few for breakfast.”
“Yay,” Morgan pulled her knees up to her chest, “Can you sing the song, please?”
“Of course,” He combed his fingers through her hair, that always made her sleepy, “Where the north wind meets the sea…” He sang softly, “There’s a river full of memory.” Morgan hugged her blanket closer to her chest, “Sleep, my darling, safe and sound—”
Morgan never remembered falling asleep, but she never slept for long, she couldn’t in the wardrobe, she hated being by herself.
Like most nights, the buzz, buzz, buzz of the front door opening woke her, followed by Beck’s loud footsteps. She shuffled towards the closed wardrobe doors and peered through the gaps.
Peter was stood by the table, drumming his fingers against his hip, “Hey.”
Bad Beck dumped an empty trash bag on the kitchen counter, “Evening, Parker.” He was older than Peter. Twenty years or so. His hair was dark brown but there were patches of white, his spiky beard was the same.
Morgan scowled, she didn’t like it when he came, she wanted him out.
Bad Beck held out two yellow bags, full of shopping, “I got all I could.”
“Thanks,” Peter swung them up onto the table and started to take everything out in stages.
“Where’s your list?”
“By the toaster.”
Beck took the note and buried it in his pocket. He noticed the plate of pancakes on the side, covered in a layer of cling film, Peter didn’t put them in the fridge, there was no room, “Pancakes?”
“Yeah…” Peter trailed off, “We made them earlier.”
“She doesn’t like cake?”
“No.”
Beck bounced his eyebrows up and rolled his eyes, “Okay,” He grabbed the trash bag he brought, “I got her something.” He pulled out a wrapped gift, a birthday present.
Morgan gasped, she was really confused, Beck had never bought her a present for her birthday before.
“Oh…” Peter took it off him, “Thank you. She can open it in the morning.”
“Sure,” Beck gripped Peter’s wrist, “Come on, I don’t have long.”
Morgan moved away until she hit her head off the back of the wardrobe, “Ow.” She breathed quietly, she plugged her ears with her fingers and scrunched her eyes shut until it hurt, she played their lullaby, inside her head, hoping it would help her get to sleep.
Where the north wind meets the sea
There’s a mother full of memory
Come, my darling, homeward bound
When all is lost, then all is found
She stirred when the wardrobe doors opened. She was only half-awake, wedged between Room and Dreamland. Peter carried her into their bed, laid down and pulled the duvet over them.
Morgan clumsily stuck to his side, “Night-night, Petey.”
Peter’s stomach wouldn’t stop screaming.
It felt like a hundred hot knives tearing him apart, from the inside out.
When he was Spider-Man, he’d been stabbed on multiple occasions, but holy shit, this was worse. It didn’t matter though, after one thousand, eight hundred and seventeen days stuck in a tiny shed with zero chance of escape, he was used to it. No number of painkillers could help, not with his super metabolism.
Beck took everything from him, including the one thing he thought would always be his constant - Spider-Man. Yes, he still technically had his powers, he could stick to the walls, or mindlessly lift the bed with one hand while Morgan searched underneath for her few toys.
It wasn’t the same.
His strength came with a price, it hurt. The first few months in the shed changed Peter, he often wondered if the damage was irreversible. The weeks and weeks of punishment, where he had nothing to eat, and the months of sensory overload, where his only anchor was cradling Morgan in his arms.
Peter might have lost Spider-Man, but he found a new constant, Morgan - he dreaded to think what he would be without her, where he would be without her.
He brushed a hand over his face and stretched his legs out. Morgan was tucked up beside him, but she’d managed to sleep through the night with her legs extended up the wall. Peter snorted, he pushed back the duvet and tiptoed out of bed, careful not to wake her.
He switched on the television, it was quiet, and with his enhanced hearing, he didn’t need the volume any higher. It was the Morning News, he didn’t watch it often, it reminded him that there was a world outside those doors, but sometimes he kept it on when he needed grounding.
It was difficult, and that is putting it lightly. Peter’s life was stolen from him, he’d lost almost five years that he could never get back. This was just surviving. That might sound harsh, but it was true, the world kept turning, and Peter stood still, locked out.
Morgan made every single moment worth it, she saved him on a daily basis, but this was all she knew. A blasted shed that was the same size as the art supply closet at Midtown.
Peter built her entire life on a lie.
He didn’t want her to grow up afraid of everything. Lying to her made him sick to the stomach but he had to, she was young and deserved better. This was her childhood; this was her life. If she knew that their family, their friends, were out there, scared out of their minds, then her life would be cut short too. Just like Peter’s was. The shed was her everything. It would stay that way until she was old enough to realise what was going on.
Peter opened the fridge to grab the orange juice. That’s when it happened. He stopped, like a deer trapped in headlights, “Holy shit.” He stumbled over and crumbled to his knees in front of the shitty television set.
It was Tony, he was on the news,
Tony, Tony, Tony.
Peter’s breath faltered, he shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. He blinked and through teary-eyes, looked back up at the screen.
“No way.”
It was real, Tony was real. Peter hadn’t seen his face in years or heard his voice, for that matter. Peter knew that outside those doors, people were living their day-to-day lives, and the world was still spinning. He often felt displaced, after being locked up for so long, reality was distorted, some days it was like nothing was real. Even Morgan.
The news cut back to the presenter, Peter listened, straining his ears, “Tony Stark is set to make a new appeal this weekend, as we quickly approach the fifth anniversary of Morgan Stark and Peter Parker’s disappearance.”
It changed to archive footage of a press conference, with the time stamp in the corner.
June 3rd, 2022.
Two years after Peter and Morgan were taken by Beck.
Peter slapped a shaking hand over his mouth, Tony was centre stage, May was on his left, and Pepper was on his right, “Huh…” He swallowed a sob, “Shit…” He muted the television, “Morgan!” He scrambled, rushing back to the bed, chanting her name, over and over again. He tapped her shoulder hastily, but gently, “Hey, hey, wake up.”
Morgan looked at him, with bleary-eyes, “Petey?”
“You need to see this.” This was her chance to see part of their family, if they waited around that chance would be gone, the television couldn’t be paused, it was too old.
“What?”
Peter picked her up, with trembling hands and placed her back on the floor. He got down behind her and tied a strong arm around her front, holding her up, “Look.”
Morgan blinked slowly, still trying to wake up, she perched on his knee, “Who are they?”
“That man is Dad.”
Her eyes widened, “What’s he doing on TV?”
“It’s an old video.”
She bit her lip, “Oh.”
“So, that is Dad.” He moved his hand, “That is Mom and that is Aunt May.”
“Woah.” She studied the video, with a smile from ear-to-ear, “Um…” She twisted her hair around her finger, “Can… can we watch cartoons now?”
Peter deflated; he rested his chin on her head. He was an idiot; she was only half asleep and wouldn’t understand what she was being shown. She thought they were dead, this was not easy for her, “Yeah…”
Morgan lounged in front of the television, with her back rested against the end of the bathtub. She was distracted by Dora The Explorer and was mindlessly consuming a plate of leftover pancakes, so Peter knew she wouldn’t want to talk.
He sat down on the floor by the bed, with his knees drawn close to his chest. He cradled his throbbing head, with the palm of his hand and bounced.
They’ll never find you.
Yes, they will.
You’re so naive, Spidey. It’s pitiful.
“Shut up.” He hissed, he clamped his hands over his ears and tucked his head in-between his knees.
Morgan called out for him, he was sure of it, but whatever she said was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing through his ears.
What are you doing, Parker?
The skylight….
Is it made out of Vibranium? Yeah, the whole room is. I wondered how long it would take for you to figure that out.
“Petey!” Morgan’s panic-ridden voice brought reality crashing around him.
Peter reached out, gently catching her wrists, “Oh,” He let out a slow strained breath, “Hey…”
Morgan moved closer and balanced her forehead against his, “Are you having sad thoughts again?”
“Yeah.”
She kissed his cheek, “Look, I’ve taken ‘em away!” She exclaimed proudly, as she swung on his arms.
Peter laughed half-heartedly, “Thank you.” Morgan parked herself next to him and leaned against his shoulder, “Here.” He reached under the bed and pulled the gift out that Beck had brought for her. Part of him wanted to throw it out, but he had heard her watching the exchange, and anyways, it would be a waste, “This is for you.”
“What is it?”
Peter shrugged, he honestly had no clue, “You’re gonna have to open it and see.”
Morgan stared at it. Presents were not a normality for them, so he understood her caution. Like most children her age, curiosity beat her uncertainty and she tore the paper away from the gift as fast as possible, “Wow!”
Peter leaned to get a look; his stomach leapt up into his throat. Beck didn’t get this because he felt bad, or he decided to be kind for a change, he did this to send a message, but Peter couldn’t say a word, he had never seen Morgan this happy before.
“It’s you!” Morgan held her new Spider-Man action figurine over her head, she spun around on the spot, in a state of pure joy.
“That’s…” Peter swallowed the rising bile in this throat, “Nice.”
“I love it.”
“Here.” Peter took the box and tore the figure away from the plastic tags, “Done.”
“Thank you!” Morgan took it and charged around the room, holding it up in the air, “Phew-phew.” She exclaimed as she twirled past the table.
Peter took a moment to breathe. He was still holding onto the packaging. He turned the box around, to see if anything had been written about Spider-Man’s absence.
There was. Thankfully, it was a cover-up, to keep Peter’s identity safe, he was grateful.
Spider-Man left Earth back in December 2019, with Captain Marvel and has not been back since. The Avengers stated that he is protecting us, from afar. Even in his absence, people still admire our Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man.
Peter and Morgan were taken by Beck, in February 2020. Twelve days after Morgan’s first birthday. Two months prior, he had decided to take a step back from Spider-Manning duties, to concentrate on his college work. It provided the best cover-up and stopped conspiracy theorists from discovering the truth.
Tears burned his eyes, and he brushed his hand across the box. There was another message, in bold, at the top.
All profits collected from Spider-Man Merchandising goes to the Nation Centre for Missing and Exploited Children.
Something warm spread across his chest, his lip twitched into a half-smile. Beck took Spider-Man away from Peter, but there was nothing he could do to take Spider-Man away from the people. Peter couldn’t be out there, protecting people, that life was over, and it was likely that he would never get that back, but this felt like a small victory. He wasn’t out there, but, in some way, Spider-Man was still helping people.
Peter unintentionally fell asleep mid-afternoon, but his body needed the rest. He didn’t sleep often, and never for more than an hour at a time.
He knew the action figure kept Morgan distracted, she didn’t care about much else and wouldn’t for a while. She didn’t have many toys, she had a few plastic pots and a few rubber ducks for the bath, but they were old now.
Peter needed to keep Beck and Morgan separate, that meant sacrificing treasures such as children’s books and toys. Beck detested Morgan, he either pretended she didn’t exist or referred to her as a financial burden. Morgan wasn’t part of Beck’s scheme; she never had been. He made sure that Peter remembered that, it was a constant looming reminder. Beck despised superheroes, he thought they were the scum of the universe, so when he worked out Peter was Spider-Man, he took his chance to grab him, but Morgan happened to be with Peter that day.
The rest was history.
Morgan’s voice woke up Peter. He couldn’t blame her, or tell her to be quiet, she was already whispering, and it was the middle of the afternoon. Morgan often spoke to inanimate objects and imaginary friends.
Peter rolled over to see what was happening, Morgan was crouched by the fridge, caught in a deep conversation with something, most likely the action figure. Peter didn’t have the heart to distract her, he reached over to the bedside and took one of his books.
“How did you get there?” Morgan muttered curiously, she held out a finger, “Hello…”
Peter sat up, something poked the inside of his foot, he reached under the duvet to see what it was. To his surprise, it was the Spider-Man figurine, Morgan must have put it down when he was sleeping.
He could tell when Morgan was playing pretend, with fictitious characters she made up in her head, and this wasn’t one of those times. A sudden sense of unease dropped onto his shoulders as he tiptoed over, a book tucked under his arm, “Hey, M…”
“Hey, Petey…” Morgan didn’t turn to face him, “Look…”
Peter moved closer. It was a Spider. Not a common house spider that Peter used to make May trap underneath a glass and throw out the window. No, this thing was probably the biggest fucking spider he had ever seen. He wanted to know how it got in, no living thing had stepped foot in the shed besides Beck, in almost five years. Well, not anything Peter had noticed before. The walls, the skylight, everything was made of Vibranium. Nothing could get in and out without the code for the door, the spider must have found its way in when Beck came.
Peter was half-awake and wasn’t ready for this, he flinched back, mid-yelp, that was when the book he was holding slipped from his grasp, “Shit.” He tried to catch it, but his reflexes weren’t booted up yet, the book flattened the spider.
If something like that had happened years back at the lakehouse with Tony, they would have laughed for days, Peter’s inherent clumsiness and fear of spiders were never a good combination.
At this moment, it was a nightmare. Peter killed the only living thing that Morgan knew besides him and Beck. Worse than that, he killed a spider. He was Spider-Man, and he killed a spider. How poetic.
Morgan scampered away on all fours, she looked at the book in disbelief, with wide-eyes, “What…”
“Morgan…”
“You killed her…” Her chin trembled, she hugged an arm around her legs, “She was my friend…”
“M, look…”
“Why…”
Peter knelt and reached to take Morgan’s hand, but she shuffled away, “I didn’t mean to hurt her…” His voice cracked, “I was scared.”
“Huh…” Morgan scowled, “You’re big and strong, she was tiny weeny!”
Peter clamped a hand in his hair, “I’m sorry—”
“You’re a liar!” She shrieked, Peter’s head throbbed, he chewed down on his lip, “You’re Spider-Man, you can’t be scared of spiders!”
“Morgan, Morgan…” He stuttered, “I’m not lying…”
“Yes, you are!” Morgan leapt onto her feet, “You—”
Peter moved closer, desperate to calm her down, “Hey…” He caught her flailing wrists and held them gently, “M…” Morgan swung her leg forward and hit his shin, “Morgan, please…”
She pulled her wrists free and crawled under the table, “Go away!”
Peter got down onto his palms, “I promise, I’m not lying.” He sniffled, “Dad used to tease me all the time, you know? I’m Spider-Man, and I’m scared of spiders.”
“But that doesn’t make sense.”
“I know it doesn’t,” Peter wiped tears off his cheeks, “But…But I promise it is true.”
“You didn’t mean to hurt her?”
“No, I was just startled.” Peter sat up and anxiously locked an arm around his front, “I’m so sorry.”
Morgan moved out, “It’s okay…” She placed a hand on his knee, “It was an accident.”
Peter stood and scooped her up into his arms, he cradled her close, “It was.”
Morgan nestled her face in the groove of his shoulder, “Can we read Harry Potter now?”
“Of course.”
They curled up in the corner of the bed and read three chapters; Peter mimicked a British accent, to the best of his ability, but it kept making Morgan giggle.
The day ticked away. Before they knew it, it was dark outside. They missed lunch because they were busy planning and having a makeshift funeral for the spider.
Morgan ate dinner, Peter was too busy completing all the jobs that he couldn’t do during the whole ordeal.
Peter had to cut his hair. He hated doing it.
There was no mirror. Peter couldn’t see what he looked like. He had a twisted view. He caught his reflection in the toaster, cutlery and the television when it was off.
This made cutting his hair almost impossible, but he had to try his best, his number one priority was Morgan, and she was older now, growing more conscious of the world around her, it wouldn’t be long until she stormed out of that wardrobe and gave Beck a piece of her mind. Peter had to keep the peace between him and Beck, he couldn’t risk Morgan getting involved in Beck’s hot-headed outbursts.
He knelt in front of the television and carefully started to cut. Morgan was sitting on the bed, reading her books, she knew not to disturb him.
One stupid slip up could rock the vulnerable sanctuary he’d built for her. He didn’t have long. Beck’s rules were strict, all sharp objects had to be wrapped in tape and put on the surface before he came in, he was clever like that.
Peter placed the scissors down and ruffled his hair, “Hmm.” He slouched his shoulders, “Morgs…” He spun on the spot to face her, “How do I look?”
Morgan narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to her shoulder, “Umm…” She placed her book down and jumped off the bed, she walked over, “Hmm…” She combed her hand through his hair and beamed, ear-to-ear, “It looks good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep.”
Peter cleaned the hair off the floor and did a last wipe around the kitchen. With regret, he hurried Morgan through her evening routine - Beck always arrived early on Tuesdays.
She had only just finished brushing her teeth and he already had both hands on her shoulders, guiding her towards the wardrobe, “Bedtime.”
Morgan clambered onto the small mattress, “But I’m not tired.”
“You can try counting sheep.”
“Uhh…” She deflated, “Okay.” She laid down under her blanket and cradled her Spider-Man action figure in her hand.
Peter’s watch buzzed, “Damn it.” He turned it off, “I’m sorry, I don’t have time to sing tonight.”
“That’s alright. I can listen to it in my head.”
Peter’s mouth twitched into a smile, “Good.” He pressed a kiss against her cheek, “Love you, infinity.”
He hastily closed the wardrobe doors, before she had the chance to say it back.
He was only just in time.
The front door buzzed, and Beck walked in, “Parker.”
“Beck.”
Beck skidded to an abrupt stop, “Eh.” He marched over, stopping when they were toe-to-toe, Peter clenched his fists by his sides, “What…” He clamped a hand around Peter’s chin, “Shabby.” He balled his hands around Peter’s hair and pulled, “You can’t do anything right, can you?”
Peter bit down on his lip to suppress a cry, “No.”
“Next time, I’ll do it.” Beck let go, “Don’t need you to make another mess.” He gripped onto his wrist and twisted it back, “Come on.”
Peter spaced out; he often did. He woke up, with a heavy weight on his chest. He flipped over in his bed; Beck was no longer there.
The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on the edge, and his body was in overdrive. Something wasn’t right.
“So, what do you—” That was Beck’s voice.
Peter opened his eyes, and his world collapsed around him.
Morgan was standing in the centre of the room, underneath the skylight. Beck was kneeling beside her with his hand on her arm.
The last five years of their life, fell under Peter, “No!” He didn’t even think of the repercussions as he leapt out of bed, “Get away from her!” Peter grabbed Beck’s bicep and kicked his leg, Beck collapsed onto his back. Peter then pushed his foot against his chest, pinning him down in his moment of vulnerability, Peter waved his hand towards Morgan, “Hide.”
Morgan remained motionless, paralysed in her fear.
Peter’s heart yearned to comfort her.
Beck grabbed Peter’s ankle and pulled, Peter didn’t have the strength to stop it, he fell onto his back, his head connected with the floor, black dots followed.
“Petey!”
Beck loomed over him. He locked his merciless hand around his throat, “Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?!”
Peter scrambled, trying to break free. Beck took this as an open invitation, he pressed his knee against Peter’s chest until there was a crack, a blistering pain shot through him, he clawed his nails along Beck’s arms, desperate to get out, “Please…”
“Who?!” He spat, “Tony Stark’s prodigy?! Spider-Man?! You are nothing!” The grip around Peter’s throat tightened, “You’re nothing, you hear me? Nothing! I’m the one who lets you keep her! I can take her away!”
Sobs tore through Peter, “Please….” He pleaded, “Please, don’t…” She’s all I have left. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”
Beck leant down until they were nose-to-nose, “Shut the fuck up…” He let go and stepped away; Peter’s body involuntarily squirmed, he let out a painful gasp.
Beck left without another word.
Peter choked, on nothing. He couldn’t clear his throat, and he was on the verge of blacking out, he held his hand back, “Morgan…” He wheezed, “Morgan!”
Peter didn’t hear her coming, she came out of nowhere and threw herself around him. Peter didn’t care that holding her hurt, he needed her close, “I’m sorry.” She trembled in his hold as she wailed, “I… I won’t leave again…I promise!”
Peter gasped sharply, “It’s okay.” She made herself as small as possible in his arms and pressed her forehead against his collarbone, she sobbed through her nonsensical apologies, “It’s okay, M…” He knitted his fingers in her curls and rocked, side-to-side, he held her tight as he muttered empty reassurance.
They couldn’t keep doing this, Morgan wasn’t safe. Beck didn’t care about her, and he was one step closer to taking her out of the equation.
For five long years, Morgan had been Peter’s only hope, but after all, they’d been through, he wasn’t sure if hope was enough anymore.