Chapter Text
The media has a field day with the announcement that Tony Stark has adopted a son. Stories go both ways; "The Stark name will live on!" is the headline for one paper, and on the other, "Is Stark pulling an Annie on us?" They seem to have forgotten that the love ends up genuine at the end of that movie-slash-play.
Peter's been given some form of privacy, at least. His picture's in a few tabloids but people steer clear. Anyone who works in the field knows not to piss off Tony Stark, because unlike some celebrities who might get annoyed or even violent, getting on his bad side means being out of a job come morning.
Every afternoon Peter comes home with another story to tell. Another anecdote to share about his time in class or with Ned or during recess. Happy's expression is enough to know it's not the first time he's telling these stories. His head of security grumbles and complains, but Peter is assuredly the safest kid in the country. After all, Happy Hogan has kept Tony Stark alive for years and that's no easy feat.
"During recess, we played tag. That's the one where you run around after each other and have to make someone else 'it' by touching them. The others got tired fast, so I pretended to be tired too."
Tony knows himself well enough to know that he won't always be able to greet his son every weekday or entertain him every weekend. He has work, he might have to fly out to China next week and will have to spend days away from him. He might get lost in his work down in the lab and forget to come up. His anxieties might get the best of him, he might need to spend his time secluded to wait out a panic attack. There might be a relapse, or two, or three.
Pepper is a godsend, but she'll grow tired and he'll have to pull his weight again.
But the days he can be there? He will be. He's going to make every minute that they can spend together count. There won't be a second in his life where Peter will have to wonder if his father loves him.
"Oh yeah? Bet you could outrun Steve."
Peter's on the island stool and Tony's puttering about the kitchen. He's trying to do more home cooking and he's standing diligently in front of the stove and mixing his stir fry. Every word Peter says, he hears. He listens. He acknowledges.
"Do you think so?"
"Absolutely. You could do it in your sleep."
He's been training with Steve and Natasha. They're impressed with what he already knows, and work with him on refining some basic self-defense techniques. They also help him learn what is considered 'normal' human abilities; how much weight a nine-year-old should be able to lift, when his stamina should start depleting. Not sticking to things. His mental abilities are all his own and they don't tell him to pretend otherwise.
Amongst his classmates he's a little on the eccentric side, asking questions that are odd ("what's that?" he asks about a deck of playing cards) and not understanding the concept of raising your hand to ask or answer a question, but no one suspects any enhanced abilities.
"Have any homework?" Tony steps away from the food and leans forward against the island to look at Peter.
He's drawing schematics for a boat; a boy in class had been talking about pirates and now boats are something of interest.
"No, I finished the work in class. There was some vocabulary words and simple multiplication."
"Nothing you couldn't handle, I imagine?"
"Mhm."
It's during dinner that Peter drops his bombshell.
Fine, it's not that dramatic, but it certainly feels like it. For most dinners, they usually have at least someone to keep them company, if it's not Pepper popping in or Happy sticking around after dropping off Peter, it's one of the Avengers coming up to visit them (they want to see Peter, Tony's accepted that about being a father). Tonight it's just the two of them, but that makes it no less chatty than usual.
"Dad, do you know how Eight-five's doing? At the Raft?" He continues to eat his dinner like that's a perfectly ordinary question to ask.
"Eight- oh, yeah. I mean, it's prison, so she's not going to be at her happiest, but..." Peter looks up at him with hope and he sighs and smiles, "she's okay."
"Ned said that people who go to prison get to come out eventually. That's what you said, too. When is she coming out? Is she going to come here?"
He breathes out slowly.
"Where's this coming from?"
"A girl in class was talking about how her brother is in juvie. Ned told me that's kind of like prison but for kids, and I told him that I have a... a kind of sister and she's at the Raft. He said people come out of prison, but that they don't come back from the Raft. But you said..."
"Right, I see." He sets down his fork and reaches out to take Peter's hand in his. "People who end up at the Raft tend to be people who did really bad things. And people who do really bad things don't get out, because it's not safe for them to be a part of society. I don't know what's in store for Eight-five. She's done a lot of horrible things, she needs to serve her time."
"What did she do?"
"I... I think that's a conversation we should have when you're a bit older, kiddo."
"Okay," Peter agrees dejectedly. He attempts to withdraw his hand but Tony holds on.
"I know she means a lot to you. I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't care about her, or that you shouldn't see her as a sister. What she has done for you, in her twisted way, is special to you and that feeling isn't wrong."
"Can I see her?"
This isn't a good Wednesday dinner conversation.
"I'm afraid not." His eyes turn sad and Tony thinks. His thoughts circle around and around until they still. He squeezes Peter's hand and gives him something that seems like putting a band-aid over broken glass, but it's something. "It's unfortunate that the Raft has no visiting rights, but I'm sure they'll allow letters. Why don't you write her a letter and I'll make sure it gets to her?"
"A letter? What's a letter?" His interest is piqued, his expression brightens that little bit.
"On a piece of paper, you write down all the things you want to tell her. Then I'll send it along for her to read it."
"Really? I can do that?"
"Absolutely. We'll get on that right after dinner, what do you say?"
"Thank you so much, dad!"
Peter devours what's left of his dinner as quickly as he can. Tony tries to go faster not to keep him squirming in his seat impatiently, but he's still a few minutes behind. Once they're both finished, Tony loads up the dishwasher and takes Peter to his barely-used study. He sits him in the plush seat behind his large oak desk and places a few sheets of blank paper in front of him. He hands him a pencil.
"So, letters usually start with 'Dear name of the person you're addressing', and finish with something like, 'sincerely, Peter'. You can ask Jarvis for some ideas. Let me know when you're done and we can get you an envelope to put your letter in."
"Thank you!"
Tony's forgotten as Peter starts on his letter. It takes him a while to finish, and when he finds Tony nearly an hour later, he has a few sheets of paper in his hands.
"Have a lot to say?"
"She has to catch up on a lot of time."
He finds an envelope, as promised, and carefully folds the paper into three. He tucks it inside and neatly folds it closed.
"How long until she gets it?" Peter asks.
"I'm not sure. A few days, maybe a week or two. I have some stuff to figure out."
"Can she send a letter back? If... if she wants to."
"Of course, kiddo. If she wants to write back, she'll be allowed to."
Tony has a few ideas how he's going to make this happen, but he's going to need to throw his weight around quite a bit. Maybe get Pepper in on this. Or Natasha.
He takes it away. Peter goes to his weekly meditation session with Bruce.
As much as he's learned to hide his powers with Steve and Natasha's help, it's imperative that he learns how to control his emotions too. That's where Bruce comes in; he's sort of the expert on the matter. In a good state of mind, he knows how hard to hit not to shatter a person's skull. Upset or angry, that self-restraint starts to slip. He needs to know how to take it back before he ends up doing something he'll regret.
So they do meditation and all sorts of anger management exercises. (And Bruce teaches him all sorts of other things once they're done.)
The next day, Peter plops down next to his friend and tells him with a smile, "my dad let me write a letter to my sister! I hope she likes it."
"I didn't think they let letters into the Raft."
"Dad said he'd figure it out."
Day's pass; Tony's not one to break his word and he figures out how to get the letter to the Raft and then to its prisoner.
There's debate about it, of course.
Most prisoners in the Raft don't have family or friends, no one who'll want to visit let alone send a letter. They've never come across this situation. Is a letter a privilege or a right? Does she deserve it, after all she's done? Yet there are prisoners in civilian jails who've done crimes as horrendous who get mail without a complaint from anyone. It gets through.
One of the guards takes the letter, unsealed of course, down to the cell where she's being held.
He slides his keyguard and presses his thumb into the fingerprint scanner. The door slides open.
The woman of many names is sitting in the bed, staring at the wall. Fénix named her Eight-five, she named herself Queen Cobra, but the Raft knows her as Luella.
There's a cuff on her left wrist that's locked into the ground by a long thread of chain. At the longest reach, she can stand in front of the doorway. The room is super-proof, her strength and speed and flexibility are useless here. She's in drab grey wear and her hair's been cut short. Her canines have been removed; her venom has been taken from her and she hasn't been the same since.
He walks up to her and places the envelope on the bed in front of her.
"Mail for you, Luella. Read it and be done with it. I'll get rid of it once you're done."
Her eyes flicker up to him and then down to the blank envelope. She doesn't speak.
He steps back and stands next to the doorway, waiting for her to do as told. They don't trust her with anything and won't leave her alone with this letter.
After a quiet minute, she reaches out and takes it in hand. She pulls out the pages and reads. The Raft is quiet, and this is new. She's never seen this handwriting and has never gotten a letter in her life, but she knows who's words these belong to.
It starts:
Dear 8-5,
I was just told that I'm allowed to send you letters. I've never written a letter before. I hope you like this because I want to write you lots. I want you to know everything that's going on, so that you're up to date when you're allowed out of the Raft.
She knows this is a life sentence, there is no 'out'.
Mr. Stark. Tony. He's adopted me. He's my dad now. It makes me very happy. Sometimes I wonder if he's going to change his mind, but so far he hasn't. He's been very nice to me, I think you would like him if you gave him a chance. He's very smart, and he likes to build things. He has these robots in his lab that are friendly and smart. He has an AI, an artificial intelligence, that lives in his building and he knows everything. His name is Jarvis.
I go to school now. It's fun. There's a lot of kids and I don't know how to behave around them. But I have one friend, his name is Ned. He loves science and Star Wars. I haven't seen the movies yet, but he says I need to.
He talks about his time with Tony and the Avengers and Ned. It goes on and on and on. Three pages worth of pointless garble that makes her stomach warm. She reaches the end of the letter.
Dad said you could write me back if you want to. I hope you do. I want to know how you are. He says I can't come see you, but this is good too. Please tell me how you are. Or if you want me to keep sending you letters. Or if you want me to stop.
You know, I didn't know letters existed. I was talking to Ned at school and told him I have a sister that's at the Raft and...
That goes on for a little while. Her eyes stay fixed on the word 'sister' for a few minutes, then she manages to finish the letter.
It's signed:
Your loving brother,
Itsy Bitsy
The 'I' is dark, written over a couple of times. He is the boy of many names; Four-seven, Defect, Peter, and then offered the second name of Fitzpatrick and he chooses Stark. He goes to write Defect, but she knows him by a name she's given him herself.
She's going to spend the rest of her life in this room. There's no Fénix, no family, no friends, to rescue her. Peter is better off where he is.
She sets down the pages.
The guard walks closer.
"Wait! I want to keep them. Let me keep them, please..." she takes them into her hands and presses them to her chest.
"It'll be stored. When you want to read it over again, you can ask. Special orders from Stark. Seems you have friends in high places all of a sudden."
She hesitantly lets him take the papers from her. He sets down a pen and a blank sheet of paper.
"You can write back. Don't take long."
She slides off the bed and sets the paper on the floor for a hard surface. She doesn't think, only writes out a message before they change their mind.
It reads:
Dear Itsy Bitsy,
One day, I will see you again. For now, send me all the letters you want.
Give Stark this message: the King has a Prince now, and perhaps the Knights will be worthy after all.
Your surviving sister,
8-5