#spiderdaughter

Peyton never was able to tell which ones hurt more. Those built from truth or those from doubts. It was something she didn't ever think she would know for sure.

What she did know, however, was that she couldn't escape from either kind.

Those borne from doubts could at least occasionally be rationalised far easier than those borne in truth.

But the ones that had a foundation of fact… they ached. They burned and twisted in a way that was different from the doubting ones. 

They settled into her chest and tightened until she couldn't breathe.

They couldn't be softened the way that doubt born ones could, and as such, they haunted Peyton far worse than any other.

They followed in her every interaction, every move, every word she spoke. It was what had forced her to hide herself away and for the weight to all start building upon her back in the first place.

They stemmed from May and Peyton hated that her aunt, her mother in all but blood, was the start of her spiraling that she tried so hard to hide.

Peyton loved May with all of her heart and she knew that the woman loved her just as deeply. They were so close and such a part of each other… but that didn't take away from the way May's views, misunderstanding, and ignorance had affected Peyton.

It didn't change the years of being told everything would be fine and that she was smart, she couldn't possibly be struggling with anything. 

"You just have to apply yourself more, Sweetheart."

It didn't change the countless bad days where all Peyton had wanted to do was curl up in her bed and not get up only for her aunt to say that she had no reason to be sad.

"I know things have been hard in the past, Pey, but we're fine now. There's no reason to be sad."

It didn't change the many times that May had dismissed her when Peyton had tried to bring up her thoughts on possibly being ADHD.

"You're not hyper, Peyton. You can't have ADHD."

And it didn't change the time when she finally said she battled with anxiety only for May to tell her, "Just don't be anxious then."

Moments like those were repeated over and over again for years until Peyton eventually gave up. 

She started hiding her fear of school.

Her depression was covered by fake smiles and countless jokes in a bid to be okay.

Lack of concentration and daydreaming was disguised as thinking about homework or a new idea for her lab time with Mr. Stark.

Shaking hands and anxiety hives were brushed aside as needing something to eat and her shirts or hoodies making her itch.

Slowly but surely, Peyton became a master of excuses. Although many of them she probably only got away with due to her aunt's decidedly bad observation skills.

Maybe that was one of the reasons she was able to get away with the occasional nights of blood slowly dripping down from her thighs to swirl down the shower drain. It had become her release, her escape.

An injury from patrol or her own general clumsiness used as an excuse for the bandaids that became more and more likely to disappear from their shared bathroom cabinet.

Through it all, May was none the wiser to the war her niece was waging on and within herself.

Tony Stark, however, he was a different case. He noticed things that most took for granted. He used his cocky and flashy media persona to distract from his eyes soaking in every detail he could from any situation he found himself in.

He was the one person that Peyton's own masks and acts didn't fool. He didn't always easily accept the excuses for the stray cuts that would appear on her arms or the dark, puffy circles under her eyes.

Tony wasn't like May in that way.

And so it sadly came as no surprise when he noticed after one too many weeks of Peyton being entirely too reckless with her pocket knife, when the cuts on her thighs became deeper than they had before and her healing took longer to stop the bleeding.

The constant craving for the pain had snuck up on Peyton until the escape she found was one she could no longer escape from.

Peyton had foolishly hoped that she could get away with it for a while longer even though she knew she had to be stopped, no matter how much she didn't want to.

Her hopes were for nothing and it was all thanks to a single pair of grey sweatpants.

---

The second and fourth weekends of each month were reserved for Peyton and Tony to go upstate and spend the two day weekend (from the time Peyton left her last class on Friday to Monday morning when Tony would drop her off at Midtown) at the compound.

In the early days they had used to train in the larger, more well equipped gym as well as more complex suit enhancements.

Now, however, it was still used for those things at times but it had become far more of a mini getaway for the two of them. Occasionally they would be joined by Pepper or Rhodey but for the most part it was the two of them.

It was routine. Something familiar and comforting in the reliability of the twice a month escape.

As such, Peyton's self-harm habits had formed a routine around these weekends as well. It was one of the few times she restricted herself to not cutting at all apart from the friday morning before school.

Usually, those cuts would be scabbed over and partially healed by the time Tonh picked her up. 

Today was not a usual day.

Thanks to the sudden cold brought by an early winter cold spell, a lot of Peyton's energy was spent by her metabolism trying to keep her body warm and stop her from going into hibernation. 

Add that to the new depth and disregard of the far more frequently added cuts on her thighs and you get a healing factor that doesn't have the resources to work as it normally does.

Peyton hadn't thought of that when she had shakily re-opened the cuts in the hidden second floor bathroom after her last class. The only thing that had registered was the leftover surge of anxiety from Flash's recent bullying and the sudden single minded craving to split her skin open.

Realising the time when Tony sent her a message telling her that he was in the parking lot, Peyton folded up toilet paper and roughly bundled it between her thighs and pants to stop any of the blood from seeping through on her jeans. 

She could deal with it later when she changed at the compound.

---

Unsurprisingly, she didn't deal with it, instead she flushed the wads of toilet paper down the toilet before changing into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie so she could be comfortable in the lab.

Her first mistake.

Her second mistake came from forgetting that the sluggishly bleeding cuts would eventually start to coagulate and scab. And that they did. Against her sweatpants.

Her last mistake?

Well, that was jumping up after sitting in the same position for two hours. Two hours that had her cuts start healing before they were re-opened thanks to her sudden movement.

Peyton couldn't stop the wince at the pain of the scabs peeling back as her pants shifted on her legs.

She was unaware that her mentor (read: unofficial father) had been glancing at her at times as he tried to piece together the puzzle of her increasingly strange behaviour that had formed over the last months.

As such, Peyton didn't see the way his face paled when he noticed the blood on her pants. Fear and sadness filling his heart as all the pieces were put together. It had all been right there in front of him, sign after sign, and he'd missed every one.

"Peyton." The man said, getting up from his workbench and moving towards her.

"Hmm?" Peyton hummed, ignoring the fabric tugging on her thighs as she turned to face him.

The look Tony fixed on her made Peyton pause, her eyes following his when they subconsciously flickered to the red stain on her pants. In seconds she felt the blood drain from her face and her fingers get the tell tale tingling of her anxiety flaring.

Before Tony could speak, she was rising with a well practiced excuse on her lips. "I'm so sorry. I have my period and… lemme just go change and clean up and I'll be back in a bit."

She made it to the elevator before a hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks. 

"Don't do this, Peyton."

"Do what?" Her feigned confusion was almost believable but Tony saw the way her hands quivered slightly at her side as she shrugged his hand off and stepped into the elevator.

Tony followed.

"Don't lie to me. Make excuses."

The doors closed and it was silent as they moved up to the living room.

After a few moments, Peyton shook her head. "I'm not–"

Tony guided her to face him. "Your period was two weeks ago, the last time we came up here. I know because you were annoyed at your nausea and cramps keeping you from trying out the new aerial bars in the gym."

The doors opened and Peyton walked out, moving towards her room and trying in vain to think of an excuse, a protest, anything to get herself out of the inevitable. 

Before she could get out of the living room, Tony caught her sleeve, stopping her in place.

"You're not okay, I see that. If this is–" Tony cut himself off, drawing in a short breath. "You are hurting, Bambina, no matter the form. I want to help you but I need you to talk to me. Please."

It was almost as if the wind was taken out of Peyton's sails. Her head droped and she let out a tired breath.

"You're right," Peyton finally admitted, words spoken so softly that Tony had to strain to hear her. 

The admission hurt Tony to hear. He'd known, but he had still wished in vain to be wrong.

"I– uh. It's not– I don't…" She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain or to say anything at all.

None of the words were the right ones for what she needed to say and to finally get out after so many years of keeping them locked away.

And then it all came rushing in. The realisation that someone knew. The terror of the reality of Tony, the man who was practically her father, finding out what she had done, what she did, to herself.

"Roo." A hand cupped Peyton's cheek grounding, her from the flood of emotion and thought. She looked up, blinking through the tears building in her eyes and met Tony's own teary ones.

She let out a whimper, "I'm not okay."

And she broke.

She sobbed, and she hiccuped, the force of her cries sending tremors through her body but Tony only cradled her in his arms. He held her together so she could let herself fall apart, and fall she did.

Through her tears she explained everything. All of her doubts, her fears, her anxieties, sadness, and the expectations she felt she could never live up to.

She told him about the nights cried herself to sleep and the nights where she was too numb and tired to rest. She told him of the words said to her that she couldn't help but take deeply and personally, no matter the true meaning behind them.

And she told him about the anxiety attacks, about the dissociation, and (most heavily) about the self harm. How it was sometimes the only escape she felt she had, even above her patrols or her missions as Spider-Woman.

Through it all, Tony listened. He didn't try to interrupt, he didn't tell her she was wrong or making anything up, he only listened. 

For the first time, Peyton felt as if she was truly heard.

Her tears eventually stopped, only the occasional sniffle left behind. Her dad's arms never left their place wrapped around her. They only moved when Tony shuffled them across to the couch where Peyton immediately curled into his arms again.

"I'm sorry I'm so messed up. I know I'm not okay but I'm sorry that I just dumped it on you like tha–"

"Peyt, Bambina, it's okay. It's okay." Tony's eyes were earnest, nothing but love and truth in them as he looked down at her. "This is going to sound cheesy, I know, but it is okay not to be okay."

He sat up slightly, shifting until Peyton was facing him on the couch. "I'm not going to lie, this is going to be one hell of a time to get through and past, but we will get you help and I will be by your side to support you through all of it."

Peyton chewed on her lip, fingers subconsciously digging into the tops of her thighs before Tony curled her palms into his own.

"Talk to me, Pey, what's going on in your head?"

"I'm scared." Peyton hesitated before admitting it. She was silent again, almost warring with herself to get her next words out. "I dunno how to be different or who I am without the hurt or the hiding. And I don't know how to stop wanting to hurt myself or be clumsy so I get hurt on purpose. I know it's a bad and dangerous thing but I also don't want to stop. I don't know how to escape all of this."

She looked at her dad, scared that she would find disgust at what she had now said in words despite it already being discovered earlier with her stating it. "I'm scared that you'll hate me or be angry or disgusted that I'm like this."

At her words, Tony's eyes hardened, a fierceness in them that wasn't as strong moments ago. 

"Peyton Parker, if there is one thing I Will never ever hate you, be disgusted, or angry, alright? Never. Not for one fuckibg second. Do you hear me?"

Peyton, do you hear me?" Tony repeated when she only nodded.

"Yes. I hear you."

Tony nodded. "Good because it's never changing. We're gonna get you the help you need, baby. I promise you."

Not knowing how to thank him, Peyton settled for hugging him again, smiling for the first time that evening when she felt a kiss against her hair.

"I love you, Dad." She said without thinking, freezing slightly when she felt Tony tense before he relaxed.

Tony murmured back to her, before she could apologise. "I love you too, Tesoro." 

It was quiet, then. Heavy from all that had been said, but not uncomfortable or awkward.

Things weren't okay. But okay could wait, because in these seconds and moments, after all that had changed and happened that evening, there was peace.

---

Eventually Peyton would speak once more, her voice small and almost childlike in her need for guidance and assurance.

"We'll get through this?" She asked softly.

And Tony would answer, firm and sure. 

She shushed the girl placatingly, "It's okay, it's okay. We're gonna be alright, okay? You just gotta be the strong girl you always are, right?" Morgan had nodded, "Good, okay, do you know how long we've been here?" She'd shrugged, "Okay, that's alright. Have you seen anyone?"

"No."

"Okay, if someone comes in you get behind me, alright? Just sit behind me and stay quiet, can you do that?"

"Yeah," Morgan had affirmed. The girl had struck true to her word when a woman had entered the room a few hours later, hiding behind her legs as the girl stood up to face their kidnapper.

The woman smiled at the two of them, and honestly, this wasn't who Penny had been expecting. She was small, barely taller than Penny herself, middle-aged, and slightly overweight. She dressed like a high school English teacher, with a short pixie cut that had turned gray, the only remnants of her original hair color being the few strands of black.

She'd gone on about revenge and the Avengers causing the loss of her own child, and really, Penny felt for her, but kidnapping a five year-old wasn't the way to go. Then the woman had left, leaving behind a small brown bag that ended up being two water bottles and ham and cheese sandwiches that she nibbled on before handing one to Morgan.

That had been two days ago, and while protecting Morgan was on the top of her to-do list, she hadn't been quite prepared for how hard it would be to entertain her, especially when she would randomly go into fits crying for her parents and Penny could do nothing but hold her. She must've played patty cake a thousand times, struggling to remember the rhyme and having to force herself to be gentle with the preschooler in front of her.

Three meals were delivered a day, and there was a toilet in the corner of the room that she thought must be an old prison room, so overall it could be worse conditions. They weren't being tortured, they were being fed, and were at least together, though they probably both smelled since they hadn't had a shower since they'd arrived.

Penny kept telling herself to wait, to lay low like Mr. Stark had always told her to do if she got kidnapped, to let him come and rescue them, and at first she had been prepared to do that, to hunker down and wait while she was with Morgan, but two days turned to six, and then nine, each night growing colder and all she could do was hug Morgan tighter.

But then she couldn't hug Morgan.

On the ninth day the woman returned, this time with two other people with solemn expressions, and Penny had immediately pressed Morgan behind her at the tingle running up and down her spine.

"Step away," the woman ordered, the bars of the cage opening with a clang!

"No," Penny said, putting steel into her voice.

"You don't have to be more involved than you already are dear," the woman said gently, as though a doting mother to her, and Penny scowled, "I don't know who you are. A nanny or a babysitter, some poor intern who got dragged into this, but I don't want to hurt you."

"And why not? You seem fine with hurting a five year-old. She hasn't even gone to kindergarten yet! If you think she has any part of the Avengers then you're either insane or stupid. I'm leaning towards the latter."

"Step aside," she said again, a little more sternness in her voice.

"No."

"Step aside."

"She's a kid!"

"She's the daughter of a murderer, and he will feel the same pain I did."

Penny's eyes shifted to the ground, hesitant but sure, she sighed, "Fine."

"What?" The woman sounded beyond surprised.

"Fine! He can feel that pain, but not through Morgan."

"How do you--"

"You think he trusts just anybody with his daughter? Some random nanny after how many people have tried to kill him? And why do you think a teenager would be nannying her? You don't think he'd hire some really professional lady?" Penny ranted, and she could feel Morgan's arms wrap around her leg, squeezing her as she cried. She wished she could comfort her, but if she wanted Morgan to be safe, she had to put all her attention into this.

"What do you mean?" the woman asked, readjusting her glasses and giving her a once over.

"I mean Tony Stark likes me. We've known each other for years and he takes care of me and him and my aunt basically share custody of me. If you--" she swallowed, "If you hurt me, then he'll feel the same pain, but you won't have to hurt Morgan."

"And how do we know this is true?" the man behind the still nameless woman asked. For the first time since they'd arrived, she turned to Morgan.

"Morgan, what are we?" she asked gently, and Morgan sniffed.

"Sisters."

Penny turned back around, point-fucking-proven (even if it was technically a lie), to look at the shocked and calculating faces. After a tense minute, the woman finally reached a conclusion, smiling a little as she looked at her.

"Okay, works for me. We'll send it to Stark, and if what you're saying is true--and you don't fight back--then the kid will be safe. Deal?"

"Deal," Penny agreed without hesitation. They beckoned for her to leave the cell, and she began to move forward, but Morgan continued to clutch onto her harder.

"No! NO! PENNY!! DON'T GO!!" the girl cried, sobbing hysterically, but Penny had to go, she had to keep Morgan safe. Glancing between the impatient faces and Morgan's snot-covered and crying one, she kneeled down, prying the little hands away from her leg as gently as she possibly could.

"It's okay. It's okay, Morggie. Remember what I said about being brave?" A nod, "Good. Just, try and be calm, and it'll be okay. I'll make it okay."

"Promise?"

Penny hesitated, but Morgan's eyes were too wide and too smart and too much exactly like Mr. Stark's, "I promise. Pinky promise."

She held out her pinky, and Morgan accepted, tears still leaking out of her eyes as Penny stood up and stepped out of the small cell, allowing for her hands to be cuffed behind her back. She kept eye contact with Morgan the entire time, trying for a smile and not looking away until she was moving and down the hallway.

She was right about it being an old prison, the walls crumbling stone and covered in frost. She knew it was winter, but wherever they were it was cold. And every step away from Morgan became colder and colder until she was finally led into a room with a singular metal chair and a camera pointed at it.

The next few hours were some of the worst of her life.

  Penny was dumped back into her and Morgan's cell the next day, barely aware of the world around her. After their little homemade video in which Penny had done her very best assuring Mr. Stark that Morgan was okay and that she was keeping her safe, she'd been left chained to the chair in the room while they sent it or whatever. She guessed they were just being extra careful about not being found, but it had sucked.

Nothing in this place was particularly comfortable, but that chair and that freezing empty room with the knowledge of Morgan alone barely a hallway over was the worst part of all of it. Yet she didn't want Morgan to see her the way she was right now.

Her arms and hands were coated in red that was dried and sticky, her lips blue and the hair atop her head--so thick and desperately in need of a cut--was still damp and clung to her skin. There were cuts and burns littering her body, and she knew she must look a mess, a true horror to the girl once again crying and pulling at her hair to try and get her to move.

"Penny? Penny, please. Wake up! If-If I have to be brave, you do too!" Morgan practically begged, and she began to stir, forcing herself onto her arms and knees, collapsing onto the barred wall instead. Morgan stared at her, scared and timid.

"It's okay, Morggie. I'm okay, see, I'm right here," Penny tried to assure, "You're doing so good. So good. Just--just be brave for a little longer, okay?"

"How much longer?"

"Not long."

And it wouldn't be. They couldn't stay here. Penny had held them off with the promise of torturing her instead, but these people were crazy, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they moved onto Morgan. The couldn't wait any longer.

  The teen didn't even wait a day. She waited until the next morning when they were afforded their stupid sandwiches and water that she would throw out the stupid window if it weren't for the hunger that clawed at her chest.

The woman, different than the short and stout ringleader, approached with their bags of food. Penny was still sitting on the bars, waiting, limp and unsuspecting, until they were close enough. She struck out, grabbing their foot and easily unbalancing them. Quick as a shot, she stood up and punched them through the bars, letting her drop to the floor unconscious.

Morgan yelped in surprise, staring at the woman crumpled on the ground. But then she clapped, "Are we leaving?"

"Yep. We're going home, Mongoose," she affirmed.

"Back to Mommy and Daddy?"

"Back to Mommy and Daddy."

Morgan smiled, and then they were walking down the hallways. Morgan carried the little brown bags of food as they stalked through the hallway, Penny on edge as she escorted them to the door. They managed to not come across anyone, which was good, because Penny doubted she could fight at this point. She was limping and tired to the bone, her right arm swollen and her eye still black. If it came down to it, she'd take someone down, but they needed to get out as quick as possible.

But when they finally found the door, she hesitated. It was freezing, beyond cold. Now don't get her wrong, she knew what cold was like, New York was plenty freezing during the winter, but now she wore nothing but a shirt and jeans, as well as a hoodie wrapped around her waist. And it wasn't just cold, Penny didn't do well in the cold, it was a storm. Penny did doubley worse in a storm.

It wasn't snow that rained down, but freezing sleet and pouring rain that thundered against the slick pavement outside. She gulped. This was bad, but they couldn't stay here. Maybe...maybe she could find a way to contact Tony, but then she'd be caught, and then Morgan would be tortured. And if this was an old prison, then, well, there had to be some kind of society around.

She weighed her chances, and then she weighed Morgan's chances. Outside was better for Morgan but worse for her, so outside it was.

"Are we going out there? It looks scary," Morgan mumbled. Penny knelt down at eye level with her sister.

"I know it does, but we have to go out, okay? We'll find Daddy and Mommy out there."

"Uncle Rhodey too?"

"Especially Uncle Rhodey," Penny affirmed, taking her hoodie and putting it on Morgan, "I'm gonna carry you, can you keep the food safe for me?"

"Yeah!" Morgan said, brightening at the thought of helping.

"Great," she said, picking the girl up with a pained grunt, "Let's go."

  The cold, to put it simply, stinked.

It tore at her cuts, burning and freezing. It soaked her to the bone, wrapped her in nothing but frost and ice, making her feel as though she were trapped at the bottom of a lake during winter. And Penny's inability to keep herself warm certainly didn't help. She couldn't shiver and she couldn't warm up, the most she could do was hold Morgan close to her and hope to God that she was as dry and warm as she could possibly be.

Morgan was a trooper though. Barely complaining, only ever asking how long until they were home twice, which was considerable constraint for a five year-old. Apparently the answer to when they'd get home--or at least at a town--was four hours. Four hours of trudging over wet, slushy ground. Four hours of wandering until she found railroad tracks to follow. Four hours until a house finally appeared through the gray storm.

"Morgan, look. A house!" she choked out in relief at the sight of it. She heard Morgan let out a pitiful cry in response, and Penny could do nothing but continue to stumble forward. There were a few more houses surrounding it, but she stuck with the nearest one, ducking between the cars and stumbling onto the porch.

Her vision was hazy as she rang the doorbell, hugging Morgan tighter to her. Due to the late hour it took a few minutes for someone to answer, the door finally being flung open by an old woman, who gaped at them in shock.

"Please..." Penny begged, "2-1-2. 6-5-5. 9-0-0-8. 2-1-2. 6-5-5. 9-0-0-8. 2-1-2. 6-5-5. 9-0-0-8. 2-1-2..."

When Penny passed out, making sure to land on her back and not Morgan, she was still repeating those numbers, mumbling as the woman screamed in surprise. She really hoped she remembered the number.

  Tony stared intently at the girl in front of him. She was still pale, even after being in the Medbay for two days, though her cuts and burns had thankfully healed. Hypothermia was the kicker, but he knew she'd push through. She had too.

Morgan had managed to full recover, which made sense. She hadn't been blue when he'd found her, well, when he'd gotten a call in the middle of the night from some lady in Canada saying that two girls had shown up on her doorstep repeating his number. His heart had leapt in joy, in relief. He'd gotten the video of Penny being tortured barely a few hours earlier, and it had been the worst experience of his life.

He'd thrown up, unable to take Penny's cries telling him that Morgan was safe all the while she hadn't been.

His kids being taken had been a truly crippling experience, especially with no contact. He'd begun to break by day five of no contact, and when he'd gotten that video of Penny, he'd almost been relieved, and it made him sick. Whoever had taken Penny, well, he'd been playing right into their hands.

But Penny had escaped, had taken Morgan and run at the first sign of real danger, and he couldn't be more grateful to have one kid in his lap and the other laying in front of him. Though he'd prefer Penny be awake.

Like his thoughts had summoned her, she blinked awake within the next few minutes. Her heart rate picked up as she looked around the room, then calmed down as she caught sight of him. She smiled sleepily.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," she greeted, "Is she okay?"

"She's great. What about you? How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Morgan's safe. She's safe, Mr. Stark."

"I know, Penny. I know," he assured, moving to grip her hand, "And now you're safe too, okay? Even though you walked through -20 degree weather knowing you can't keep warm."

"I thought the cold would get me," she admitted, "But they were going to go for Morgan next. They were going to hurt her."

His hand shook, "They hurt you. And you're my kid too, Penny." She looked at him with wide eyes, so he carried on, "You're my kid, just like Morgan. So please know you gave me a heart attack."

"Oh, I already knew that, Mr. Stark. Not the--not the kid part. But the uh, heart part."

He smiled, shaking his head. Sniffing in disdain, he pressed a kiss to her head, cupping Morgan closer to himself so as to keep her from waking up, "Whatever, kid. Just know that I love you and go back to sleep."