If They Knew All About You

For the Greater Good

The suit was necessary, he knew that. This wasn't the time to look like he was losing it. Not when there was still a chance that he could run into someone. Even though the sun hadn't even risen yet, hospitals famously ran on a different schedule. There was always someone around and all he could do was be hopeful that Natasha was right, that the time was right and that he wasn't spotted. There was a chance though, a chance that someone would see him, even if it was just a patient or even a nurse at the end of a long night shift. This was the time to look like the authority figure he had tried to sell to the public for years, decades really. Without the tie he would have looked like a hippy wannabe, so it wasn't negotiable, but he couldn't deny how that slim band of fabric stoked the flames of his deep seated anxiety. It pressed the collar of his shirt so tightly around his neck, he had to resort to mental exercises to draw his thoughts out of their current downward spiral. Whenever he felt the fabric brush against his skin he couldn't help but picture the bruises the Soldier had left on his son's throat. The long thick lines on his skin that had been bright red at first plain to see in that viral video and had turned into an array of blue and purple by the time Helen had examined the injury at the Tower, a perfect imprint of the Soldier's hand who had tried to squeeze the life out of the boy.

His watch vibrated with an inaudible buzz. It was time. Head held high, thoughts of the boy's state pushed to the back of his mind, he pushed open the door that led him out of the staircase he had just climbed all the way up onto the 7th floor. A short glance to either side confirmed that the hallway was empty. His pace was fast just on the brink of looking too hurried. 729. On his left. That's what Natasha had said.

"Mr. Stark," she croaked, eyelids almost closed.

"Mrs. Parker." He pulled the chair closer to her bed and sat down next to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Where is Peter?" The oxygen tubes blocking her nose made her voice sound off. His eyes lingered on the bandage around the woman's neck for just a moment. "Is he... He got shot and nobody... nobody wants to... wants to tell me anything it—"

She stopped herself, fighting against her emotions.

"He's at the Tower. He's going to be fine. He's safe."

"Is... is he really? God, is he okay?"

"He really is. He's receiving the best care money can buy, I promise you that."

She dabbed away the tears running down her cheeks with a shaky hand.

"You're in police custody, do you know that?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. "The officer constantly standing in front of... of my door is a bit of a statement." She looked up at him. "You told them then? About the switch."

"No."

He held her gaze. He didn't even know why he wanted her to know that he had kept his word. Tony had every reason to turn her in. Every reason to want her to pay, to blame her for keeping his son hidden like she had. The Parker's, all of them, had financed a criminal organization that trafficked children. Had supported an operation that facilitated this whole mess in the first place. Who cared if she and her husband had been desperate for a child? Or Richard and Mary Parker... Who cared if they knew the extend of the underlying criminality or not? They sure had known that it was dodgy.

But she had also kept his son safe after she had lost her own and then her husband. Prevented Peter from falling back into the hands of those people with all the legal threats that came with that, at the possible expense of her own freedom. Had cared for him. Had loved the boy with all her heart.

He did believe that. That she was sincere when it came to the kid.

And it hadn't been her fault that Aiden had been taken in the first place. It didn't redeem her, but it was an argument in her favor. That and of course the fact that Peter, that his son wanted nothing more than for her to be safe.