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"Downtown 49, big blue...slime-bird monster. Civilians evacuating, requesting backup."
Jefferson turned the sirens of his cruiser on immediately, shifting the gear into drive before taking off, lights flashing down the road in warning.
"Spider-Man on the scene." Came a few minutes later, and Jefferson sighed, turning a corner with the light still green.
Don't get him wrong, the new Spider-Man swinging through Brooklyn wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it's just that the web stuff he sticks criminals in takes at least thirty minutes to cut through, and the property damage following his "epic battles", as dubbed by the kids of the internet, was ridiculous! The kid never even stuck around to take responsibility when the cops showed up!
And that's just another thing! The kid was really just...a kid. When Jefferson first saw him, pummeled to the ground beneath Fisk's giant figure, surrounded by chaos and destruction, he looked so small just laying there, already half dead.
But when he saw him out on the streets not even an hour later, he realized it hadn't just been the size difference between Spider-Man and the KingPin. The kid was actually small, maybe just as tall as Miles.
And that thing he'd done with his voice, his tone faking the maturity of an adult. It'd sounded more like he had a mouthful of cotton balls stuck in his teeth.
Then when he'd hugged him? That'd been strange for sure. Jefferson was pretty sure he'd never met the kid, and you don't just go up hugging strangers, saying I love you. Not unless you were young and seeking approval, seeking safety, like Jefferson had apparently provided for the young vigilante.
Jefferson just hoped it wouldn't get him into any more trouble.
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As soon as he was on the scene, Jefferson parked his car and drew his gun, approaching the street where Spider-Man and the monster had last been seen.
He could hear the sounds of a fight around the corner of a tall office building along with the screams of civilians that scattered in all directions, rushing around him like the river around a rock. Back against the glass and gun facing the sky, Jefferson peered around the corner, catching sight of a slim figure in black swinging around a giant translucent blue slime monster with the features of a bird. He wasn't sure how to describe it further than that.
"Woah! Watch it buddy!" The kid called from where he perched on a street sign, eyes wide as they faced the cracked pavement where he'd been seconds before.
"You know that comes out of tax payer dollars right? I'm sure they'd rather it go to something else- AGH!" He was interrupted by a fisted claw swinging down on the sign, barely catching Spider-Man's ankle as he abandoned his post. "It's real rude to interrupt someone y'know. Didn't your mama ever-"
A car flew over his head as he slid down another light like a fireman pole.
"Hey! What did I just say?!"
The monster ignored him, letting out a horrendous sound between a monstrous roar and an angry chicken. Jefferson cringed away from it while Spider-Man swung over the beast's shoulder athletically.
"Calm down there, buddy!" Spider-Man did his best to lead the beast away from any remaining civilians, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that with the monsters size and sharp appendages, it wasn't going to be easy.
In the midst of his observations, Jefferson caught sight of a small girl standing in terror, crying and screaming for her mother. With her ruckus, it wouldn't be long before the monster had its attention drawn to her.
Jefferson kept his eyes on the slimy beast as he rushed to the girl, pushing his legs as fast as they would go in order to reach her.
With his gun at his side as he approached her, he kneeled quickly and made the decision to holster his weapon so he could deal with the crying girl. He held his hands out, voice soft and strong as he stood in front of her, blocking her view of the monster.
"Hey, honey." He spoke quickly, burying any panic from his voice. "I'm Officer Morales, and I'm going to get you out of here okay? We're gonna find your mom." Desperately, the girl nodded, the glittery beads in her braids clinking as she ran into his arms.
She couldn't have been older than six-years-old, so it didn't hinder Jefferson's stride to safety while he held her close to his chest, her tear stained face hidden in his collar.
Spotting a clear way out, he began running, shushing the girl gently as he searched for her mother along with a good place to hide.
Suddenly a deafening crack rang through the air, and his head whipped around on time to see a piece of concrete as big as his apartment's main floor.
Jefferson turned his back and hugged the girl close, his life flashing behind his eyes. Miles, his sweet, sweet boy so full of life and he could only hope that he kept that spark. And Rio. Oh Rio-
The air around him changed, the shadows got darker, the girl screamed and Jefferson braced himself, the hair on the back of his neck standing up because he was about to die dear God he's gonna die and it was gonna hurt-
But the pain never came.
As the girls screams dissipated, Jefferson peered up, eyes widening at the slab of the building just a few feet away. Then he saw the one holding it up.
Spider-Man, arms shaking as he struggled to hold its weight. Jefferson caught sight of tears in his suit, the largest at the back of his right thigh, blood dripping down the back of his calf and onto the ground.
"Da- Morales!" The vigilante cried out, almost falling to one knee before grunting and forcing himself up, and Jefferson could hear a faint "You got this, you got this," under the roar of blood in his ears.
"Spider-Man!" The little girl cried out, more tears falling from her eyes.
Spider-Man turned his head over his shoulder, eyes squinted in pain (or an attempt at a smile, Jefferson couldn't tell) as he looked at the girl.
"He- hey kid. You're gonna be okay, yeah? This officer here is- is gonna get you out." He said in a strained, yet somehow extremely calm tone, before shooting a look at Jefferson. "Right, officer?"
"Yeah." He responded before he processed it, taking action soon after. "Yeah, we're gonna get you outta here, hun." He told her, crouching down and making his way to the biggest opening given by the hunk of pavement.
Right as they were about to get out, the slab shifted and the girl let out a shriek before the huge shadow disappeared entirely, and Jefferson had just enough time to see the giant claw of the villain grip Spider-Man around his entire torso and send him flying.
As the girl began to cry again, Jefferson ran her out of the area, and by some miracle found her mother on the sidelines.
"Get out of here! We gotta give Spider-Man some room!" He shouted as he set the child in her mother's arms. They didn't need to be told twice.
Turning back to the scene, he saw Spider-Man land a solid punch to the monster's jaw before getting thrown into an opposite building.
"C'mon man," Jefferson vaguely heard him say. "The news complains enough about the property damage, why d'you always gotta make it worse?" He snarked just before he shot a web just past the villain's head, giving him the acceleration to come in like a dart and hit it on the side of its beak feet first.
"Ooh." Jefferson winced, seeing the immediate retaliation of Spider-Man getting swatted like a bug.
Swatted right towards him.
Jefferson ducked, turning his head as Spider-Man stumbled up from the subsequent crater in the ground, a nasty wound lighting up under the setting sun on his shoulder, debris mixing with the blood that stained his suit.
"You need some help, Spider-Man." Jefferson told him, nonnegotiable.
"You need to get outta here." He retaliated, rolling is shoulders back with an obvious wince. "We don't need anymore civilians getting hurt."
"I'm a cop."
"I know." Spider-Man whipped his head in his direction, shoulders high and tense and Jefferson could almost see his teeth bearing through the mask.
"I know, officer. And as a cop you need to get in a safe place so you can help the people with the aftermath."
"The point is I'm here now-"
Jefferson watched as Spider-Man shivered minutely and turned away from him just in time to brace himself and catch a whole ass car heading their way.
The impact made Jefferson's teeth chatter as Spider-Man stopped it mid air, the vehicle falling seconds before the hero too, was on his knees.
And by God despite his reservations about the vigilante and his name, he sure as hell didn't need another one of them dying.
So he hauled the arachnid up by his armpits and dragged him out of sight, buying them just a bit of time.
Spider-Man leaned against the brick wall, head lolling to the side, chest stuttering with heavy breaths.
"C'mon Spider-Man, just take a second."
The vigilante tried to get up.
"I- I gotta help them. I almost got him, I just hafta-"
"Spider-Man, stay down. You need a plan. You can't just keep doing what you've been doing."
And although it looked very much like he was about to argue, Spider-Man slumped back with an almost imperceptible nod.
"Okay, yeah okay. Need a plan." He took a deep, shuddering breath, before coughing a bit and holding his side. "Need a plan- fast." He muttered.
Jefferson agreed.
The officer looked around the area, to the thousands of dollars in property damage, to the blood on the streets, the monster on a rampage trying to find them. They needed a plan, and they needed it right fucking now.
"Spider-Man." He said.
"I know, I know, give me a second!" He sounded fatigued, on the verge of unconsciousness. God, he wished they had more time.
"Spider-Man." He urged.
"I know!" He snapped, hauling himself just a bit more on the wall, digging his fingers into his side just slightly, and Jefferson knew it was to keep himself awake and that nearly made him sick.
"What would Peter do?" Jefferson suddenly heard the soft voice. His head moved from observing the area to downed Spider-Man, who had his head in his other hand, muttering to himself. "What would Peter do, what would Peter do?!?" He asked the air desperately.
"Usually, when he faced something like this," Jefferson started, almost just as quietly. Spider-Man's head snapped up, masked eyes wide. "He'd make a few jokes, distract the bad guy, but I know one thing for sure. He always got back up. And if I know anything about your kind, it's that you always. Get. Back. Up.
Jefferson narrowed his eyes, placing a hand on his blood slicked knee for support.
"So what's it gonna be, Spider-Man?"
The vigilante stared at him for a moment, then blinked slowly, twice. And then suddenly, it was as if it all clicked.
Groaning with the effort, Spider-Man pulled himself to his feet and shuffled to the end of the alley, shoulders set in determination as he called out for the villain.
"Hey, Ugly!" He practically screamed, limping into the battlefield. Jefferson only hoped he'd done the right thing, pushing him back out there. Because if he dies...
There was a distorted roar, and Jefferson watched as Spider-Man rolled out of the way of a stampeding monster and jumped back to his feet, swinging from building to building, sticking onto wall after wall until finally he shot at the creature. He missed.
He missed.
And he was doing what he'd been doing before.
"Dammit!" Jefferson punched the ground in frustration, then grunted in regret.
"You miss again, little bug." The villain pulled back a fist, its voice a gurgled imitation of speech. "I will not."
"For the last time I'm an arachnid." Spider-Man rolled his head with his eyes, a signature motion Jefferson recognized from the previous Spider-Man. "And I didn't miss." Jefferson could feel the smirk through his mask.
But as the villain looked around frantically for whatever was coming, it didn't see Spider-Man blink out of sight and get in closer, placing both hands on both of its arms until it was snarling and twisting to face him.
"Hey." Was all he said, before electricity surged through the villain, making it scream, shake, and collapse.
Immediately, Spider-Man webbed it up in twice the layers he usually would, then when it looked like he was done, he placed a hand in the center of its chest and shocked it again for good measure.
Jefferson was back in the streets in an instant, hands held out in preparation to catch the vigilante should he fall. He sure looked like he would with his obvious limp and hunched shoulders.
"Thanks for the help, officer," he said as soon as he was within range. Jefferson nodded, wincing in sympathy as a slightly deeper breath sent him into even more coughs, his whole frame shaking with the effort.
"You might need some more help, Spider-Man." He responded instead. Spider-Man shook his head, lifting it so Jefferson could see the white lenses of his suit squint.
"Nah, man. I'm good, I'm good. I'm Spider-Man." He said this last statement like it was an obvious reason as to why he didn't need help.
"Even Spider-Man needs some help."
"I'm fine." He insisted, reaching out to pat his shoulder reassuringly, but Jefferson watched as his hand lifted and his uniform went with it. "Ah, uh, heh." The vigilante pulled a little harder, dragging Jefferson a little closer. "Crap, um, sorry it's just- kinda stuck."
"Can you...unstick it?"
"I'm trying." He ground out, pulling a little more before sighing and hanging his head, taking slow, not-too-deep breaths. "It's fine it's fine, I'm cool, I'm relaxed, I'm relaxed." He mumbled, continuing his breathing before slowly peeking up and pulling his hand towards himself- this time successfully.
"See?" His eyes curved at the bottom as he smiled, presenting his palm and wiggling his fingers. And although Jefferson knew that a part of his costume was red, this was a completely different shade.
"You're bleeding." He made a show of seeing his injuries. "A lot."
"They'll close up soon."
"You're not going to go to the hospital?" Jefferson demanded.
"No!" Spider-Man took a step back, one arm wrapped around his middle while the other prepared to launch a web. Jefferson recognized the move. "I can't- I can't afford that! Not to mention they don't really like the whole-" he waved a hand in front of his face, "the mask thing."
Jefferson sighed, deep and long.
"Okay, no hospital." Suddenly, an idea struck him. "But my wife's a nurse, she could help."
Spider-Man seemed wary.
"You'll be safe. I won't ask any personal questions, you won't have to take off the mask, or pay, or even stay. Just let her patch you up, my son's at school this week, no one else will know."
Spider-Man was still tense, feet positioned to sprint at any second. But then the sound of more sirens filled the air and with the police came the news and with the news came desperate reporters, paparazzi, and other people wanting to catch a glimpse of Spider-Man to make a big name for themselves.
Said target of this spectacle was in no state to deal with that.
Clearly at war with himself by the way he shifted his weight and clenched and unclenched his fists, eventually he let out a sigh of his own and nodded, gesturing belatedly for Jefferson to lead the way.
With a slight nod of permission, Jefferson gently grabbed his upper arms to hold him steady.
"No one will know." Jefferson repeated, ducking his head to better meet Spider-Man's lowered gaze.
With a reluctant sigh of his own and a weak cough leaving his chest, the vigilante nodded again, responding in a hoarse whisper.
"Okay- yeah, okay." He relented.
"Okay." Jefferson nodded, moving so he had a better grip under his arms. "Do you think you can walk to my cruiser? It's just down the block."
"I-" Spider-Man gasped, hunching over before forcing his feet back underneath him and letting Jefferson pull him all the way up. "I think so."
Jefferson raised a brow above his glasses, clearly not believing him but deciding to not bring it up again. He didn't know if the kid's pride could take much more.
"How about I help you anyways? Don't want you taking a wrong turn or anything." He said. Spider-Man watched him carefully for a moment before taking the out, allowing Jefferson to swing his good arm over his shoulder and let him lean his bloody weight against his side.
"Yeah, okay. Good idea, officer."
"I get 'em every once in a while."
A weak huff of a laugh was his only response, but he'd take it.
Carrying the majority of the vigilante's weight as they went, Jefferson picked over debris and craters in order to make it to where he'd parked his car, luckily so out of the way that it didn't take any damage.
Spider-Man did his best to keep pace, but he stumbled and hissed under his breath, however not daring to complain. Jefferson slowed down anyways, making it easier for the arachnid to walk with him.
As the police car came into view, Jefferson idly noticed how light Spider-Man was. How slim and bony he was against him, like a gangly teen. It reminded him of when he'd hugged him all those months ago, then of his boy, Miles. He'd had at least three growth spurts in the last five months, now almost as tall as Jefferson, maybe even growing taller.
With Spider-Man at his side, and even slumped over, Jefferson could tell he was about his height. But even if he was walking he looked, talked, and acted like a teenager.
Dear God, Spider-Man was a teenager.
As the revelation hit him like a truck, Spider-Man groaned at his side, probably feeling like he'd been hit by one, his free hand clutching his ribs.
"Almost there." Jefferson reassured, if a bit absentmindedly, his mind caught up in a whirlwind of thoughts and accusations. "Almost there."
How old was Spider-Man, really? Where were his parents? Did they know? What kind of parent would let their kid go out and risk their life every day? Where the hell did they think he was when he disappeared? How did they write off every bruise and scrape on their baby's skin? Who could-
"Uh, officer?" Spider-Man sounded tired, weak. Jefferson glanced at him, concern growing at the way his head bobbed and eye lenses fluttered. He needed to hurry, blood loss was no joke.
"What is it, son?" For some reason Spider-Man's shoulders went rigid at that, but spoke as if they weren't.
"The car?" He prompted, nodding his head in front of them. Jefferson looked up and realized that, yes, that had made it to his cruiser.
"Oh." He swallowed, shaking away his ranting morals for now and focused on the kid beside him. "Sorry." He added as an afterthought, bringing him to the passenger side and opening the door, helping him slide in the seat like a snake. The vigilante moaned in pain as he got settled.
"Is it supposed to hurt this much?" He gasped, grabbing at his right thigh to try and staunch the bleeding. "It doesn't usually hurt this much." He sounded on the verge of tears and Jefferson's heart ached.
"Well, considering the damage that thing made, I think it's warranted. But don't worry, I don't live too far from here." He took off his jacket and gave it to the kid. "Here, to suppress the bleeding."
Spider-Man took it without thanks, but from what Rio had told him about patients with blood loss, he figured his brain was too foggy to remember proper manners. Besides, Jefferson knew the kid would be singing his praises once this was all done and over with. It's how he was after the fight with KingPin, after all.
He's just a kid.
Quickly getting to the driver's side, Jefferson started the car and raced down the street, switching on his sirens to get through New York's traffic. He didn't miss Spider-Man's wince, or the way his hands flew to his ears before seeming to deem his wound more important and pressing hard on the jacket wrapped around his leg. Heightened senses, super hearing? He stored that information for later.
Knowing that even without traffic it would be another five minutes until he got to him apartment, Jefferson pulled out his phone and called Rio, driving with one hand while the other dialed her number with muscle memory, his eyes never leaving the road.
"Jeff? Is there something wrong? I just saw on the TV-" She answered the phone, tone concerned as she heard the sirens.
"I need you to get out the med kit. Spider-Man was hurt and he's lost a lot of blood. He can't go to the hospital so I'm taking him home." He cut her off, mentally setting a reminder to apologize once the crisis was over.
"Spider-Man? Jeff-"
"Rio, please. We'll be there soon."
"Okay, I'll be ready. Put pressure on the wounds in the meantime. And be careful, mi amor."
"Always am." He promised, before hanging up, glancing over at Spider-Man, who had his eyes screwed shut and arms shaking with the effort he put into keeping his blood where it was supposed to be.
"That was a good idea, back with the blue guy."
"I get 'em every once in a while." Spider-Man parroted, and Jefferson could tell it was a desperate attempt at humor, to ease the tension in the air.
He huffed a short laugh anyways.
"Good. They're handy in your line of work."
Spider-Man sucked on his teeth, throwing his head back as they ran over a pothole. Jefferson apologized softly. "I wish I had 'em more often." He tried to chuckle, but just ended up coughing into his mask.
"Don't we all." Jefferson glanced at him again, brows furrowed in concentration. "Try not to talk, okay? We're almost there."
"You got it, o- officer." He stuttered, his teeth chattering. It was May, and the hottest day of the week. He was going into shock.
"Shit." He muttered, hands clutching the wheel.
Jefferson's foot got heavier on the pedal.
By the time he pulled up to his house, parking rushed and janky but not bad enough for a ticket, he sprinted to Spider-Man's side of the car and opened the door, catching the vigilante as he leaned out, having been resting on the door.
"Sorry, sorry." Jefferson winced, gathering the boy in his arms. "I'm gonna carry you, okay?"
By this point, Spider-Man couldn't argue.
Groaning the whole way, Spider-Man was held bridal style as Jefferson raced up the steps, the door opening immediately since Rio was expecting them.
"His shivering and can't really respond, I think he's in shock."
"Oh, dios mio." Rio brought her hands to cup her mouth as Jefferson went to the living room and placed the kid on the couch where towels had been placed, unwrapping his now blood soaked police jacket and taking it to the tub in the bathroom while Rio got her supplies, murmuring soothing words to the bleeding vigilante.
Jefferson took a moment to breathe, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink. The front of his uniform was drenched in blood, his badge glistening with red. He wanted nothing more than to take a scalding shower and change, but there was a bleeding boy on his held and his wife needed a second pair of hands.
So Jefferson took a deep breath and steeled his nerves, leaving the bathroom with the taste of copper in the air and a determination he wore every day he worked in the force, he kneeled beside his wife and pulled medical gloves over his hands to help her however she needed, all too aware of the boy bleeding out on their couch.
"What do you need me to do?"
"Hold him down."
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Spider-Man went unconscious halfway through Rio's stitching, though Jefferson wouldn't hold it against him. Rio said he'd held on for longer than he probably should have.
Now with his wounds sterilized, stitched, and wrapped, the vigilante rested on cushions soaked through with his own blood, his breaths labored but not stuttering, and no more things from the inside coming to the outside.
Jefferson sat on the chair across from him in his undershirt, once white now almost completely red, and unable to sleep even as Rio went to bed an hour ago, waiting for any moment in the night she might need to jump into action.
But Jefferson couldn't sleep, couldn't even think about it, about this kid waking up wounded and alone in an unfamiliar place because he really was just a kid. From everything he had noticed, filed away and observed, Jefferson was absolutely sure that Spider-Man was just a teenager. God, he hoped he was just a teenager, because he wasn't sure what he would do if he was any younger.
He had a book in his hand, a single lamp on beside him as he stared at the same word over and over on the page. And, and, and, and, and, and, and, and, and, and -
There was a shift on the couch, and Jefferson's gaze snapped from the dizzying page to the injured arachnid across from him, his suit torn nearly to bits but not removed and held together by bandages and already red towels.
Spider-Man was making some sort of noise in his sleep, only known to be asleep because of the steady rhythm of his chest and the lack of wide white lenses staring up at him. Jefferson shifted in his seat, squinting to get a better look at the boy in the black suit in the darkness.
The vigilante groaned, whimpering as he turned his head away from Jefferson, muttering something he didn't even think was comprehendible before slinging an arm over the back of the couch as if throwing a punch. Jefferson sat up straighter, prepared for anything with his five coffees since nine pm.
Was there some invisible foe only Spider-Man could see? A small villain the size of a fly? A drone in the dust waiting to-
Spider-Man twisted again, taking in a rattled breath at the sudden move and struggled against some unseen attacker. Jefferson stood then, his book long forgotten on the floor as he hurried to the kid's side, kneeling in his search for what was wrong.
Reaching out, he couldn't feel or see anything physical that could be happening, and with a quick look to confirm that Spider-Man's eyes were in fact closed and his breaths were turning panicked, Jefferson finally came to a rational conclusion. A nightmare.
Spider-Man gave a strangled cry, flailing and fighting whatever his mind had conjured. Jefferson barely avoided the first few hits, but a stray punch landed on his shoulder and he knew he'd have a bruise for at least a week. How could someone so scrawny hold so much power?
It was then that Spider-Man started clawing at his throat, concealed nails digging and scratching at the skin of his suit. Jefferson gently grabbed his wrists in a firm grip and pulled his hands away. Or, well, tried to. But the kid was strong, (he was able to lift half a building even while actively bleeding out, after all) and wasn't budging at all.
"C'mon Spider-Man, you gotta wake up." Jefferson whispered, using more force as he tried to stop the kid from hurting himself. He was gasping for air he couldn't get. "Kid, you've gotta get up. There's no one else here."
He continued to struggle.
Accepting that being gentle wasn't working, and that Spider-Man was so much stronger than him, Jefferson got a good grip on his forearms and started pulling, saying things like "you're okay," and "wake up!" along the way.
Just as Jefferson was about to get up and try pouring a pitcher of cold water over his head (not a nice way to wake up but then again neither was choking yourself) Spider-Man's eyes shot open and he grabbed at Jefferson's arms instead, scrambling for purchase as he struggled for air.
"Shh, shh, you're okay son. You're okay, you're safe. You're doing great." Jefferson tried to comfort, but it seemed Spider-Man couldn't hear him as he shoved him away (though not really very far and not nearly as strongly as he could have) and ripped the bottom half of his mask over his nose once he seemed to realize it was there. He was coughing and dry heaving, halfway off the couch as he held his ribs and his whole body shook like they were in the middle of an earthquake.
"Shit." Jefferson rushed to get the trashcan from the bathroom and put it under Spider-Man's head, gingerly beginning to rub his back comfortingly and cautious of the bandages wrapped around his torso and shoulder.
Though he heaved and sobbed, nothing came up, and he hung his head instead, one hand wrapped around himself while the other was planted shakily on the floor, holding him up.
Tears gathered and slipped from beneath the mask, and in the dim light Jefferson could see them trail down his dark cheeks as he grit his teeth, desperate sounds clogging his throat along with the constant cringe of his body.
"I tried." He croaks out of nowhere. "I've tried so hard, I've been doing whatever I can but it's- it's never enough." He cried. "Why can't I ever be enough?"
Jefferson had no idea what to say to that. Instead, he kept rubbing his back, searching for words he wasn't sure how to use.
"You've been doing great." He tried, slowly moving to sit beside the vigilante, but he doesn't think the kid can hear him.
"I tried so hard, but I couldn't save him." Another animalistic sound tore from his throat. "No matter what I did, I couldn't save him. It's my fault, it's all my fault."
In a fit of anger, Spider-Man ripped off his mask completely and chucked it at the wall, immediately burying his face in his hands a moment later with his fingers digging into his scalp, slouched against the arm of the couch.
Jefferson sucked in a sharp breath, staring wide eyed at the unmasked hero. His hand froze on the middle of his back, gaze fixated on the revealed hair of the unidentified Spider-Man. His edges were buzzed and clean, the top of his head covered in tight, fluffy curls, indents where his gloves dug into his roots.
But what caught his attention most in the midst of Spider-Man's muttering and crying and apparent lack of care for his identity, was the small scar that ran from the nape of his neck to the very base of his skull, old and faded, only visible by the raise of his skin.
Nothing would be odd about it if Miles didn't have a scar in the exact same spot from a playground accident in the third grade.
Jefferson just stared, eyes wide, his mind tripping over itself to make sense of this- this coincidence. Because it had to be a coincidence and if it wasn't then his baby could have died today and he was a terrible father and how hadn't he noticed-
"It's all my fault!" Spider-Man (boy, he was just a boy, he might be his boy) rasped. That awful, broken whisper brought Jefferson out of his panic as he began holding the back of the kids neck like he did when Miles was upset and needed support, or when they hugged and he held him close. The kid curled tighter into himself, pushing his neck further into his hand, seeking his touch. Just like Miles would.
Jefferson's chest tightened painfully, and he stroked his thumb over the scar. He knew. He really wish it wasn't true, but he knew it was and now that he knew he needed to do what's right.
So with Jeffersons other arm, he wrapped it around the kids front and brought him closer, still holding his neck gently, still rubbing over his scar, still careful of his wounds, but now he held him close to his chest and let him cry curled around his arm.
"It's not. It's not your fault son. You have to understand that it wasn't." He just shook his head, arms dragging from his hair to Jeffersons arms, clinging for dear life as his face hid in the shadows of the room. But Jefferson knew him, knew what he looked like, recognized his voice, his hugs, his witty sense of humor, his beautiful, fearless spark. He knew it all.
"Miles," Jefferson almost cried himself. "It's not your fault."
"I'm sorry, Dad." Miles cried, and Jefferson held him tighter, rocking them back and forth, tears welling in his own eyes.
"Don't be sorry, baby. It's not your fault. None of it is your fault." He kissed the top of his hair, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I'm not mad, Miles. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm not mad." He promised quietly.
There was a quiet gasp from the doorway to his right. Jefferson's eyes snapped to the side, meeting Rio's shocked expression. He nodded ever so slightly, murmuring, "Miles." Rio rushed to them immediately, all but falling to her knees so she could cup Miles' face and put his forehead to hers, tears already making their way down her chin.
"Oh, Miles," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders carefully and keeping his head beside hers, his tears soaking her hair, but she couldn't care less. Her baby was hurting and in constant danger and they were going to have a talk later but right now he was safe and alive and in her arms.
"I've been trying so hard." He said again, right into his mother's ear.
"I know." His parents said together, holding him, protecting him, loving him.
"We know."