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Tony sighed as he walked into the cold precinct, the headache he was already feeling building in the back of his neck as he walked over to his desk.
“Good weekend?” Natasha asks, Tony flipping the bird as he adjusts the sunglasses on his face.
“Can it, Romanov, I don’t have time for your bullshit today.” He says, seeing her smirk out of the corner of his eyes - walking over to his desk as he slumps into his chair, already anticipating the problems that he’d have to face today.
Thursday was a wild card, close enough to the weekend to be glad for the few days off he had but not close enough to really look forward to it - already anticipating the uptick of murder cases that he’d have to rifle through come Monday morning.
It was a shitty job, exposing the worst in people and then some. But as Tony sighs again, taking off the sunglasses as he leaned forward on his desk - he tried to remind himself of why he got into this work in the first place.
There were terrible things in the world, things he wouldn’t ever be able to prevent. But if he could do some good to counteract all the other miserable bullshit people put out into the universe, Tony would keep doing it.
“Boss, we got a live one.” He hears Hogan say, turning his head towards him before shifting his gaze to where the entrance was - watching as Steve walked towards him with a kid trailing not too far behind.
It wasn’t actually a kid, guy in his late twenties maybe - Tony feeling the ache in his joints as Rogers asked the kid to stay behind for a second, the headache coming in full force when he saw the expression on Steve’s face.
“Tony--”
“No.” Tony says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans forward on his desk. “I told you, Rogers. I’m not interested in whatever sob story he told you. We got too many cases as it is.”
“Tony listen--”
Tony brings his hand down, eyes shifting away from his partner and back towards where the kid was still awkwardly standing - holding a paper in his hand and looking like he’d rather be anywhere but there.
It’s a feeling Tony’s intimately familiar with, chewing the inside of his cheek as he sighs, nodding towards him.
“Who’s the kid?” Tony asks, the grim expression on Steve’s face changing slightly, as if the question was somehow indicative that Tony was going to break for once.
He wasn’t, just curious as Steve says, “Kid who told me about the case. Name’s Ned Leeds,” Steve turns towards him before Tony can stop him - sighing as he hurriedly rushes over to the two of them, looking at the two of them with a hope in his eyes that Tony doesn’t want so squash but wants to level.
He and the rest worked in homicide. There were never happy endings.
But then, Tony thought - finding the killer was usually a happy ending in its own way, putting someone behind bars who’d taken the life of another.
“Hey, uh, hi. I’m Ned, nice to meet you detective.” Ned reaches a hand out to Tony, Tony glancing down to it for a second before extending his own hand out, shaking it firmly before asking, “Tony Stark. What can I do for you, kid?”
“Um,” Ned says, eyes shifting to Steve who nods his head slightly, turning his attention back to Tony before saying, “Detective Rogers said you guys solve murder cases?”
“We do,” Tony hears Natasha reply from behind him, knowing that her nosiness was likely getting the better of her but also that she would be the best one to have his back if they needed to turn the case down, “You got a tip for us?”
Ned seems unsure, the paper that now Tony can see is a letter - holding it gently to his chest before slowly nodding, studying it for a moment before extending it out to Tony.
“It’s a letter from my best friend.” Ned says, Tony opening the drawer in his desk to put on a pair of gloves before he takes it, Ned continuing.
“My childhood best friend, I should say.”
Tony snaps on the glove as Natasha asks, “What happened to him?”
Tony can see the sorrow in Ned’s eyes, something that looked almost like guilt as he bites his lip just as Tony takes the letter from his hands, softly replying, “He was murdered.”
“You called the cops?” Tony asks, examining the letter only to frown - seeing what was clearly childish lettering as he scanned the contents.
“Wait, when did you say he was murdered?”
Ned’s eyes shift to Steve, Tony willing for his face to be neutral - regretting that he’d allowed this to get this far, when he sees the date on the letter - almost twenty years ago to the date.
“When we were eight.”
“And you’re what-- twenty-eight now?” Natasha asks, Ned nodding. “Twenty-nine, just had a birthday.”
He smiles only for it to fall, going back to the letter in Tony’s hand as he searches his face - feeling Steve’s stare on him.
“My parents, they’re uh, they’re moving and they found that. A letter from him, from Peter that somehow got lost…” Ned looks at a loss for words, Tony reading the content of the letter more closely.
It seemed to be something like a warning, the hurried writing of a child telling Ned that he was in danger - that the bad man was coming for them, Tony frowning as he reaches the end.
“Look out for the fireflies?” Tony asks, Ned nodding solemnly.
“It was a game for us, finding fireflies. We were neighbors,” he says, eyes shifting from Tony to Steve and eventually Natasha. “Best friends.”
“And what happened?” Steve asks softly, Tony putting the letter down as Ned seems to grind his teeth.
“I don’t know.” He whispers, eyes shifting downward as he says, “He just disappeared one night. The cops never found him,” his eyes flash as he looks up and realizes who he’s around, only to see what Tony could guess are unfazed expressions before his shoulders sag.
“But they uh, they found this red jacket he always used to wear in the woods, a few miles away from our houses. By the river.”
Tony says nothing, eyes shifting to where Natasha was standing and seeing the same look in her eyes - the recognition that from what little details that they have of this story that it seemed to be pointed towards an all too familiar conclusion when Ned rushes forward.
“I know how it sounds. I know,” he pauses, eyes meeting Tony’s again, “I know he’s gone.”
He sounds so broken at that, Tony feeling a familiar twinge in his chest that he hasn’t in awhile at the man in front of him who mourned his childhood best friend for over two decades so deeply, still clearly holding out hope that he could come home even if his words say otherwise.
“But they never found out what happened to him, who took him or… or anything really.” Ned says, shifting his gaze back towards Steve.
“Detective Rogers said that you might be able to look into it, now with the letter.”
“We don’t really solve abduction cases, kid.” Tony says, shooting Steve a look for forcing himself to turn this kid down before turning his attention back to Ned. “Or cold cases.”
“But the letter,” Ned becomes more insistent, pointing towards the letter on Tony’s desk, “it’s-- it’s evidence right? Evidence that Peter didn’t run away but that he was taken. Maybe, maybe he saw something or maybe there’s still like DNA or something that could--”
“We’ll look into it.” Natasha cuts him off, Tony whipping his head around in surprise as she gives Ned a small smile, her face turning firm. “But no promises. We’re not miracle workers, kid. We’re homicide.”
She lets the words settle over Ned for a beat before continuing. “If we find anything, and that’s a big if , there’s no guarantee it’s a happy ending.”
“I know.” Ned softly replies, Tony watching as he holds Natasha’s gaze.
“But I just want to know what happened to him.”
“If all this goes to hell,” Tony says as he slams the car door, walking across the front of the car as Steve closes his own door, “You’re the one who has to tell that poor kid we failed.”
“It’s worth a shot, Tony.” Steve calmly replies, Tony still feeling agitated from reviewing the case this morning - less from Steve bringing it up and more from the nagging feeling that there was more to it than he’d originally expected.
Peter Parker, aged eight, reported missing from his bedroom twenty years ago. No sign of forced entry or struggle, only thing missing from the apartment being his blue rain boots and bright red jacket - the same jacket that was found stained with blood by a river in the woods about twenty miles away from where he stayed with his aunt and uncle.
Tony’s stomach clenched when he read over Peter Parker’s file, seeing the lines where his parents should be crossed out as being deceased - another failure of the police department that the drunk driver that had killed them in the hit and run had never been found.
It seemed heartless in a sense, Tony thought as they walked up to Ben and May Parker’s front door, to dredge up memories of the past - memories that Tony knew as well as anyone, might be better off hidden away.
Steve follows behind him in silence, Tony walking up the short flight of stairs before raising his hand to knock on the door - surprised when he barely gets the chance to before the door swings open, seeing the determined look on the face of the woman in front of him.
“Afternoon ma’am, are you May Parker?”
“I am.” She says, eyeing Steve before turning her gaze back to Tony - inexplicably feeling intimidated as she stares him down. “Are you the detectives?”
“You expecting us?” He hears Steve asks, sharing a quick glance with him before looking back to May - the fierce expression on her face hard and focused as she nods.
“Ned called, told me he found--” her breath catches, Tony seeing immediately that his assumption had been completely wrong, that this wasn’t the type of victim’s family that wanted things to rest but was the type that wanted answers as she moves to let them in. “He said he found a letter from Peter.”
“Wedged in place underneath a windowsill apparently,” Tony says, eyes dancing around the place as he takes it in, the room feeling empty and hearing no one else there when he changes gears, asking, “Your husband home ma’am? We’d like to ask him a few questions too.”
May’s expression flickers with something else then, something Tony immediately recognizes as grief - wondering for a brief second if the universe could really be so cruel to someone only for his thoughts to be confirmed when she says, “He passed away, few years back.”
“We’re sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
May quickly nods, waving Steve’s words away as she closes the door - beckoning for them to sit on her couch.
Steve and Tony follow her request, May sitting across from them as she puts her hands together and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
“This letter, does this mean you’re opening up Peter’s case again?”
“We’re looking into it,” Tony is quick to say, not wanting to promise her anything more than what they’d already promised Ned. “The letter’s not much to go on, but it’s--”
“It’s something,” May says, nodding as she glanced at the two of them. “More than anything the cops had before. I knew there was something wrong, I knew he wouldn’t just run away. Ben knew it too.”
She sighs, shoulders sagging for a bit before straightening her back - facing the two of them.
“Ben never gave up hope that Peter would come home.”
“We don’t mean to give you any kind of false hope, ma’am.” Steve begins to say, Tony grateful that his partner seems to recognize the magnitude of what they were attempting to do - only for the expression on May’s face to stay firm.
“I-- I know he’s dead. He has to be, Peter would’ve-- he would’ve come home.” May finally breaks away from looking at them, staring out the window as she shakes her head - Tony feeling an inexplicable urge to lean forward and promise her something that he knows he can’t as she continues.
“All I want is to bury my nephew.” She says, Tony feeling the weight of her grief in her words - the unimaginable loss of having to have buried her in-laws and her husband, not knowing where her nephew’s body was - even if by now and from where his jacket was found, the chances of finding anything was slim to none.
But Tony swallows it down, something in her expression and in the memory of the bright and smiling picture of a eight-year-old Peter Parker churning something up in his gut that he can’t explain as he says, “I understand.”
“Then bring him home.” May is quick to reply, head turning away from the window and back to Tony - feeling as if her stare was boring into him, an ache to do just that as he nods.
“We’ll do our best.” Tony says, feeling Steve’s surprise beside him but not caring - thinking that even if there were no happy endings in life that he could give May Parker the happiest one she could have - a chance to bury the child she’d spent a lifetime mourning.
“Where were you again?” Tony asks, watching the man squirm under his gaze - the man looking eerily out of place in the cold interrogation room they were in.
“Told you,” Quentin Beck says, “I was out of town on business then.” He leans forward, a smug smile on his face that Tony wants to wipe off with his fist - the familiar feeling in his gut that he was lying when Quentin says, “Now unless you’re gonna charge me with something, I believe I have the right to--”
“What business took you out of town?” Natasha asks, arms folded as she walks behind Quentin - the man sighing as if they were inconveniencing him, Tony just feeling more and more agitated the longer they interrogated him.
They’d been interviewing people for Peter Parker’s case for a month now, long past any kind due date that Tony would’ve given for a case that had already long gone cold.
But there was something different about this case that bothered Tony, the more he looked into it and the more researched, the less likely it seemed that Peter Parker climbed out of his window and disappeared out of thin air.
He’d quickly cleared Ben and May Parker as suspects just as his predecessors had, no evidence indicating that they’d involved at all in the disappearance of what was clearly a beloved nephew.
Tony and Steve had interviewed Ned, his parents, school teachers and any neighbors that they could find to put the pieces together of what had happened that night - and in the weeks leading up to it - that had led to Peter Parker going missing and for a jacket stained with his blood to have been found.
From everything that the team could gather, Peter was just as beloved from the people who knew him - making friends and having lasting memories on the people they interviewed even all these years laters.
But Tony knew as well as anyone that kids like that were targets for lowlifes, scum of the earth - even though that was also ruled out considering the lack of any kind of struggle and the letter.
From eyewitnesses, Tony had put together that Peter had likely found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time - the profile of a child who was far too eager to make friends with people he shouldn’t, too observant for his own good.
All the evidence and all roads lead to local business owner Quentin Beck, the missing piece in the puzzle that Tony now felt desperately that he had to solve.
“She asked you a question.” Tony pushes, Quentin rolling his eyes.
“I heard the question. But what do I in my personal life is--”
“Thought you said it was business.” Natasha is quick to reply, Tony seeing the crack in Quentin’s veneer for a brief moment - knowing that the hour they’d been in there was already taking a toll on him.
“It was both. Business and pleasure. You know how it goes.”
“I don’t actually,” Natasha says, leaning against the table they’re in. “Enlighten me.”
“Well can’t really do that here but if you want to--” Quentin begins, Tony leaning forward.
“Cut the bullshit,” he says, watching the glint in Quentin’s eyes harden. “We got eyewitnesses who saw you by Delmar’s at 2am on the same night that Peter Parker disappeared, a store that’s only a block away from the Parker apartment. Now you want to try again?”
“There’s a lot of people that look like me and it’s been twenty years ,” Quentin starts to say, putting his hands up, “Whose memory is really even reliable at this--”
“We have footage , not just eyewitnesses.” Natasha says as she leans forward, Tony seeing for a second a flash of fear in Quentin’s eyes as she braces her hands on the table.
“Now talk. Or the next time you talk will be in front of a judge.”
“You don’t have any proof.” Quentin says, “I didn’t do anything to that, kid. So what? I lied about being out of town. Big deal.” He scoffs. “I hardly remember what I did last week.”
“Seems that murder would be hard for you to forget.” Tony says, bringing his hand down to the pictures that were in front of Quentin - pictures of Peter’s stained jacket and of the location where it had been found.
“I didn’t murder that--”
“Then where were you then, after the bodega?” Natasha asks. “Where’d you go? Who’d you see?”
“How do you expect me to--”
“Why’d you take him huh?” Tony presses, seeing the way Quentin’s eyes start to flare with something dangerous as he says, “We got sources who say that they saw Peter Parker in your shop the same week he went missing. And now,” Tony opens up a folder, grabbing the snapshot of Quentin by the bodega, “We have photographic evidence that you were there, not even a block away from the Parker apartment the night he went missing.”
Quentin doesn’t even flinch, his eyes avoiding the photo and keeping with Tony’s. “I didn’t do anything to that kid.”
“You wanna try again asshole?” Tony asks, feeling a rage building him that he can’t explain, seeing the warning glance from Natasha across the table but ignoring it. “You wanna tell that to his aunt? The one who is still mourning him? Still waiting for a body to bury him? Come on Quentin, tell us where you put him.”
“I didn’t-- I didn’t do anything to--” But Tony cuts him off, pressing forward.
“Peter was there in your shop, when he heard about your little deal with the Toomes family wasn’t he?” Quentin’s eyes flash again, Tony continuing. “He overheard what was going on and you knew he was a little tattle tale, would run off and say something to the wrong person.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Quentin tries to say, Tony shaking his head.
“But you couldn’t let that happen, could you? Letting it get out that Beck Electronics was just an illusion, a front for money laundering that deals with a whole lot more than radios and televisions right?”
Quentin shakes his head, his hands starting to shake as Tony keeps going.
“So you what? Threaten the kid?” He leans forward, seeing the way Quentin’s sweating. “No you didn’t threaten him. You threatened his friend , knowing that an eight-year old, especially an eight-year old like Peter Parker, would do anything to keep his friend safe.”
“I never hurt that Leeds kid.” Quentin says, Natasha immediately straightening her shoulders.
“Whoever said anything about Leeds?”
Quentin’s face drops, trying to recover only for Tony to push him.
“You didn’t hurt Leeds, but you hurt Parker didn’t you. You did that, Quentin. You murdered a child just to keep your business safe.”
“He should’ve kept his nose out of things where it didn’t belong!” Quentin explodes, anger radiating off of him as he puts his hands out, slamming the table.
He’s breathing heavily, Tony watching as his eyes seemingly go to some memory as he shakes his head.
“Nothing would’ve happened to him if he would’ve just done what he was told.”
Tony taps his fingers against his desk, studying the files in front of him.
It’d been hours since Quentin’s confession and yet looking through everything, he didn’t know where to begin. Steve walks in, heading straight for Tony.
“He confess?” He asks, Tony nodding his head.
“Shot the kid in the fucking head.” Tony fumes, almost vibrating with anger as he says, “Asshole drove across state lines. Left him off the side of the road.”
“What about the jacket?” Steve asks, Hogan shaking his head.
“Distraction, meant to throw off the cops which,” he shrugs, the action nonchalant even if he could see the anger in her eyes, “clearly it worked.”
“So he dumped the body where?” Steve asks, Tony’s rage quieting for a moment as he takes a breath.
“The kid was still alive , Steve. And he left him there, just left him to--” Tony cuts himself off.
“But it doesn’t make sense.” He gestures to the files in front of him. “No unidentified child murder victims, that age in the area.”
“Rural area,” Natasha offers, typing something on the computer in front of her as she says, “Animals could’ve carried him off.”
“Well the body was never found.” Tony says, feeling the headache building in the back of his neck at the possibility that even with a confession - with the one kind of happy ending he could bring himself to take some comfort in with this job - that he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his promise to May Parker.
“And he crossed state lines.” Hogan says, his tone grim. “Even if the body was found, real easy to fall through the cracks.”
“Needle in a haystack.” Tony says.
“Police report, Pennsylvania. February 2000.” Natasha suddenly interjects, Tony, Steve and Hogan turning to her. “State trooper found a boy just off the main route. He was shot but alive, head injury.”
She looked away from the computer screen. “No memory of who he was or where he came from. Transported to critical care then the foster care system.”
Tony’s heart feels like it skips a beat, the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach giving way to something he hasn’t felt in years.
“Peter’s still alive?”
Tony walks into the old diner, the fluorescent lighting almost mocking the brimming hope he feels in his chest as he makes his way past the door - seeing a man at the register that looks familiar in a way Tony wants to believe isn’t just false hope.
Steve walks in behind him, hearing the door jingle as he does - Tony making his way to the counter.
“Excuse me,” Tony asks, seeing his head raise. “Are you Ben Reilly?”
The man looks at them for a second, squinting. “Yeah?”
“NYPD. You were a gunshot victim, back in February 2000?”
“You two a little late for the party.” Peter replies, smirking as he glances between the two of them.
“You don’t remember the shooting? Or where you’re from?” Steve asks, Tony watching as Peter studies them for a beat before shrugging.
“Couldn’t have been good right? Family was probably the reason why I was in those woods.”
“You’re wrong,” Tony says, “Your aunt never stopped looking for you. Never stopped hoping you would walk through her front door again.”
“Her name’s May Parker.” Steve says, only for Peter’s mouth to twist. “Good people.”
“I don’t remember, sorry.”
Tony expected as much, bringing out the photo that had been attached to Peter Parker’s file - the similarities between that photo and the man in front of him so striking that if Tony was still a betting man, he’d bet his life savings on what he knew to be true.
“She never forgot you, Peter.”
Peter blinks, Tony hearing an unmistakable waver in his voice he asks, “Was that my name?”
Tony nods, passing the photo over to him. “You were best friends with a kid named Ned Leeds. You left him a letter, before you left to meet the bad man, from what your letter said. He threatened Ned so you went with him.”
Peter seems frozen in place, Steve’s voice softly whispering beside Tony.
“Lot of people still waiting for you to come home, son.”
Peter seems to shudder for a bit, shaking his head before saying, “I should get back to work.”
“You left that letter because you wanted to protect him.” Tony says anyway, pushing forward - the hope blossoming in his chest as he sees Peter’s expression change. “You talked about the fireflies, that they’d always watch out for you.”
Peter’s eyes shift downward, clearly lost in some memory while he braces his hands against the counter - blinking a few times before finally speaking.
“I remember… I wasn’t alone. In the woods. Cause the fireflies were there, telling me I had to live.”
Tony knows that there were no fireflies out during that time of year, Peter likely having seen the stars in the cold Pennsylvania sky before he’d been found.
But then his eyes meet Tony’s, something else stirring in his gut at the look in them - of a man who realized that the life he’d lived, the lie that he’d built up about his former life - was a lie.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Tony says, “I know there’s a lot of people waiting to see you.”
Peter says nothing, holding Tony’s gaze before softly smiling - nodding his head as Tony smiles back.
Tony drives up to the Parker residence with Peter in tow, parking the car before turning to him.
“You ready, kid?”
Peter nods, a small smile on his face only for Tony to see the door burst open, both of them turning to see May Parker exit out of the door.
Tony immediately gets out of the car as does Peter, leaning his hand against it for a second before closing it - seeing the wide-eyed shock and disbelief written all over May’s face.
“Peter?” She calls out, the door open wide as she takes a step forward, Tony not seeing his face but watching as Peter seems to take a step forward to greet her.
May doesn’t wait for a reply, immediately rushing forward and enveloping him into a hug - one that Tony sees Peter immediately return, burrowing his head into her shoulder as May begins to sob.
“Peter.” He can hear her whisper, Tony feeling something in his gut - in the back of his throat - a kind of hope that he hasn’t felt in years, wondering if he’s ever felt it before in his life at seeing the two of them embrace, his attention shifting to the other person who walks outside of May Parker’s house.
Ned Leeds looks just as shocked as May did, taking a tentative step forward when Peter seems to glance up - seeing him too.
“Peter?” Ned asks, May letting him go for a brief second to turn back to Ned - immediately reaching her hand out towards him, Ned rushing forward.
Tony smiles to himself, watching the three of them embrace - putting his head down before opening the car door again, content to leave them in the joy and in the peace of finding each other again.
Before he does he glances up to see Peter giving Ned a hug, May turning to him with a grateful expression on her face - the kind of gratitude that Tony knows he doesn’t deserve, even if he feels it deep in his bones, the happiness of their reunion radiating off of them.
Tony only nods, May nodding in return - bringing her attention back to her nephew as Peter turns to see him.
The gratefulness that he’d seen written all over May’s face is on Peter’s, Tony waving once before smiling getting into his car - the last glance he has of Peter Parker being a teary-eyed smile.
Tony closes the door behind him and brings his hand to the wheel, letting out a low exhale at what this case had been, at how impossible it was.
Yet as Tony turns the ignition, glancing back to the three of them - all lost to the memories and the joy of finding each other again - Tony smiles, the hope in his heart as he faces the road, driving away.
The best part of his job had always been in finding some kind of happy ending in the midst of tragedy, to give some kind of peace to grieving families.
But as Tony drives away, Peter Parker safe - alive - and back home, Tony allows himself to consider in the chance that happy endings weren’t always so impossible after all.