After school, Peter caught up with Felicia before she could disappear off toward wherever she usually went, and asked if she wanted to grab coffee.
She hesitated for half a second, then nodded, and they walked to the same café they’d sat in week earlier, the same booth in the back corner still waiting for them.
He didn’t push right away.
He let her talk about nothing for a few minutes — school, graduation, anything easy — before finally asking the question he’d actually come here for.
“You’re not okay,” Peter said gently.
“You haven’t been all week.
I’m not trying to pry, but…
I’m asking anyway.” Felicia stared down at her coffee for a long moment, and something in her finally cracked.
“My dad’s been missing,” she said quietly.
“Two days now.” Peter’s stomach dropped.
“Felicia—” “I didn’t want to make it a whole thing,” she said quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything else.
“Everyone’s got enough going on.
I just — I haven’t been sleeping.
I keep thinking something happened to him, and I don’t know what to do about it.” “You should’ve told me,” Peter said.
“Or told someone.
You don’t have to carry that by yourself.” “I know.” Her voice was small.
“I just didn’t want anyone to worry.” “I’m always going to worry about you,” Peter said, quiet but firm.
“That’s not a burden.
Let me help.” She gave him a small, tired smile at that, and for a moment neither of them said anything else.
I’ll look into it myself, Peter decided, already turning it over in his head.
Tonight.
As Spider-Man.
He walked her home not long after, made sure she got inside safely, and left with a plan already forming.
An hour later, Peter swung by her building again — properly this time, suit and all — and rapped his knuckles lightly against her window.
Felicia startled hard, nearly knocking over a lamp, before she registered who — or what — was hovering outside her window.
“I was in the area,” Peter said, voice deliberately pitched a shade different from his own.
“Helping some people out a few blocks over.
A kid mentioned you might need help finding someone.
Said to come talk to you.” Felicia stared at him a long moment, some of the tension in her shoulders easing at the mention of Peter having sent him.
She didn’t have strong feelings about Spider-Man one way or the other — hadn’t really trusted him, if she was honest, some masked stranger swinging around the city with no accountability to anyone.
But if Peter had sent him, that was different.
That, she could work with.
“Come in,” she said, opening the window wider.
She told him everything — when her father had left, where he usually went, the last place anyone had seen him.
Peter listened carefully, filing every detail away.
“Did he leave anything behind?” Peter asked.
“Phone, wallet, any note, anything?” She shook her head.
“He didn’t say anything to me.
Just — left.” Peter studied her a moment, sensing something underneath her words she wasn’t quite saying out loud.
He didn’t push.
“I’ll look into it,” he said instead.
“I’ll find him.” She nodded, something like real relief crossing her face for the first time all week.
He left through the window the way he’d come, and he’d barely gone two blocks before his phone buzzed.
Felicia.
“Hey,” he answered, keeping his voice easy.
“Thank you,” she said immediately.
“For sending him.
How’d you even run into Spider-Man?” “Just lucky, I guess,” Peter said.
“Saw him helping someone, mentioned you needed help.
He seemed like he actually cared.” “Yeah,” Felicia said slowly, and Peter could hear her turning it over even through the phone.
“He did.” Cautious as ever, Peter thought, hanging up a moment later, unable to help the small smile pulling at his mouth despite everything else going on.
He kept swinging, working his way toward the residential blocks a little further out, when a scream cut through the evening air below him.
He dropped down fast and found MJ sitting slumped against a low wall on the sidewalk, a man standing over her, shouting, hand already drawn back for another slap.
Peter didn’t think.
He fired a line and swung down between them just as the hand came forward, catching the man’s wrist mid-swing before it connected.
The man rounded on him, furious.
“She’s my daughter.
This is none of your business.” MJ tried to say something, but he cut her off before she got a word out, snapping at her to shut up.
Peter felt something in him go very still and very cold.
He tightened his grip, just slightly, just enough — and the man’s knees buckled, a strangled sound of pain escaping him as he dropped.
Peter let go and turned immediately to MJ, crouching in front of her.
“Hey.
Hey, look at me.
Are you okay?” She nodded shakily, and Peter caught sight of the red mark already blooming across her cheek.
Something ugly and protective surged through him, hot and immediate, and it took real effort to keep his voice level.
“Why is he doing this?” Peter asked her, already knowing more of the answer than he let on.
MJ wiped at her face, voice trembling.
“He’s a gambler.
Drinks a lot too.
He used to hit my mom, back when — before she’d had enough and left.
Took me with her.” She swallowed hard.
“He saw me walking.
Just grabbed me, slapped me, said I owed him money.” Peter’s jaw tightened, but he kept his composure, forcing the anger back down where it wouldn’t do anything except scare her further.
He turned back to the man, still crumpled on the ground.
“What do you want from her?” The man muttered something about money, still wincing.
“You’re not going to touch her again,” Peter said, low and even.
“That’s not a request.” MJ spoke up quietly.
“I just want him to leave me alone.” Peter nodded and called the police.
When they arrived, he explained what he’d seen — clean, simple, no embellishment needed.
Spider-Man didn’t get any trouble from the officers , and the man was taken in on assault and abuse charges without incident.
As they led him away, MJ watched him go, something complicated crossing her face.
“He’s still my dad,” she said quietly.
“He just — changed.
After he lost his job.
Went into some kind of depression, I think, and it all went downhill from there.” Peter crouched beside her again, gentler now.
“That doesn’t excuse what he did.” “I know,” she said.
“Doesn’t make it less complicated, though.” He didn’t push further.
Instead, once she’d caught her breath, he offered to swing her home, and she managed a small, surprised laugh at the idea before agreeing.
“Where do you live?” Peter asked once they were airborne, keeping his voice light to help her relax.
“Keep going straight,” she said, pointing.
“Little further.” He dropped her off outside her building a few minutes later, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting go.
“Hey,” Peter said, before she could head inside.
“If you ever need help — not just tonight, in general — I’m actually working on something.
An app, so people can reach me if they need to.
Still building it, but it’s coming.” MJ raised an eyebrow, some of her usual dry humor creeping back in despite everything.
“Is it paid?” Peter laughed, warm despite everything that had just happened.
“No.
Just trying to help people, and get to places faster when I know something’s actually going on.” She nodded, something like real appreciation in her expression now.
“That’s a good idea, actually.” He watched her get safely inside before swinging off, already thinking about who else he should check on tonight.
Gwen, he thought.
Should probably make sure she’s okay too.
He swung toward her house and perched briefly near her window, catching sight of her hunched rigidly over her desk, clearly deep in study mode.
Satisfied she was fine, he pushed off again — and his phone rang almost the instant he’d turned away.
Harry.
He answered mid-swing.
“Hey, what’s—” “Peter, please.” Harry’s voice came through ragged, cracking on the second word.
“You need to come.
My dad — he collapsed.
We’re at the hospital.” Peter’s stomach dropped straight through the floor.
“I’m coming,” he said immediately, already changing direction.
“I’m coming right now.” He found a rooftop near the hospital, changed quickly back into his regular clothes, and sprinted the rest of the way inside, taking the elevator up to the floor Harry had given him.
A security guard stationed outside the door moved to stop him the moment he stepped off the elevator — but the door beside him swung open first, Harry emerging pale and wide-eyed at the sound of Peter’s voice in the hallway.
“Peter.” Harry’s voice cracked with relief.
“You’re here.”