Web of Lies

A Spider-Man: Homecoming Fanfiction

Summary: Liz visits her father in jail and receives an unexpected call from Peter.

Disclaimer: We own nothing.

A/N: We apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors in advance.

Part I: The Question

"I don't want to see him."

"He's your father."

Was my father. The retort died on my lips. I couldn't disown him - not now, not ever, no matter what.

"Honey…" Mom clasped my hands as our eyes misted over for the umpteenth time since - "Your dad loves us. He did what he thought was best."

"Yeah, well, what he thought was best ruined our lives." Resentment breached the words despite my attempt to hide it. Senior year was destined to be the best, not worst, of my life. Priorities shifted from grades, prom, and college to uprooting and moving to Oregon in the middle of the semester - another repercussion of Dad's actions Mom and I had suffered the brunt of.

"Please, hon...we're the only family your father has. I'm upset, too, but once you see him you'll realize how sorry he is for putting you and I through this - which is why he wants us to start over. I'm sure talking to him will change how you feel and remind you why you love him."

I doubt it. "Fine." I dropped her hands. Unsure what to do, Mom busied them by twisting her slim, gold wedding band with its blaze of diamonds around her finger. Was that, too, paid with blood money? Probably. How else could he have sustained our lifestyle? "But I'm not promising anything good will come out of it."

She nodded. "I know...just go in and see him. He's waiting for you, and we don't have much time." I glanced at the clock: noon. Mom was right; our flight left in three hours.

My footsteps echoed down the corridor, amplified by nerves, the vast hall, or both. Corrections officers prowled the premises with guns, truncheons, and stony glares, their chests puffed with bravado. Crossing my arms, I brushed aside a wayward lock of hair, ignoring inmates with sordid fantasies in their eyes. There was a brittle calm before the storm; a pin drop could precipitate chaos in a place cold, hard, and forbidding like the men it detained.

Men like my dad.

Never in a million years did I imagine him here. I covered my mouth, blinking back tears at the sight of him in shackles and a white jumpsuit, fingers drumming along the table. Besides fading cuts and bruises, he didn't seem different, yet he was - we both were.

His face split into a weary smile. "Hey there, hon."

"D-Dad?" I croaked, staggering toward him. His open arms invited me for a hug I accepted, to our mutual surprise, and I realized how much I missed him. Loved him. Mom was right. Eventually, we separated, resigned to the fact this surreal moment must end.

"Have a seat." He indicated the chair beside me. I collapsed into it, speechless still. How could this man build and sell intergalactic weapons of mass destruction during the day, then come home to kiss me goodnight like nothing was wrong?

"How are you doing?"

All I wanted to know was, "Why?"

Sighing, he averted his gaze. "Liz…"

"No." He could keep the BS because I wanted - deserved - the truth. "Why did you do this?"

He raised his head. "I needed to provide for my family."

"Through crime?"

Warmth drained from his eyes. "Revenge. If the Department of Damage Control hadn't interfered with my business, none of this would have happened, and we wouldn't be sitting here today."

"Ever since the Battle of New York, you've been doing this? You lied to us for eight years?"

"I thought what I did was right."

"But it wasn't!"

His fist cracked on the table, startling me, and the officer nearby edged closer. I dodged quizzical glances thrown our way. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped, remorse tempering his face and voice when he spoke again. "I'm sorry, honey, for everything, but how else was I going to feed you, clothe you, provide for you? I had to think about your future - how was I going to to put you through school when Hoag and her associates took away the very thing that made it possible? I had to do what I had to do."

Despite his conviction, Dad's modus operandi didn't compute. "Why didn't you tell us? Mom could've helped, I could have gotten a job and paid some bills -"

"I didn't tell you or your Mom because I didn't want you to worry. I'm your father; I'm supposed to take care of you, not the other way around. I'm not proud of what I've done, but I had no other option." The chair groaned when he leaned back. "My pride got the best of me."

"And that may cost you a life behind bars." A crystal ball didn't need to tell me he wouldn't be back home in a long time, if ever.

"It's a price I'm willing to pay."

Tears gushed from my eyes. "You're going to miss everything, Dad. My graduation, sending me off to college, my wedding...everything! Doesn't that bother you?"

"It doesn't 'bother' me - it's tearing me apart, and I'm sorry I won't be there to cherish those special moments." The apology couldn't rewind the hands of time, as much as we wanted. "But you've got good people on the outside looking out for you. You have your Mom, your friends, Peter -"

"Parker?" I scoffed. "He stood me up at Homecoming. I can care less about him." Yes, I could, but couldn't - I really liked him, and wanted things between us to work, but how could they after his grand disappearing act? My senior homecoming dance, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, was ruined forever courtesy of Peter.

"For good reason."

"Please enlighten me, Dad."

He shook his head. "It's not my place to tell you - it's his. And if he doesn't, you're smart enough to figure it out for yourself."

"I doubt he'll tell me. He's so secretive." Pursuing romance with an immature sophomore was a mistake I'd never repeat. "Not that it matters. I'm over him." My innards squirmed at the lie.

"That Peter Parker...he's a good kid. I have a lot of respect for him."

I frowned, recalling the ride to Homecoming. "You only met him once, and even then, things were so tense between you two."

He shrugged, chuckling. "Well, things are supposed to be tense when a guy takes my daughter out for the night. He left a good impression. But-" He stared at me pointedly. "Stay away from him."

I stood. "You don't have to tell me twice."

Dad rose with a clink of chains. "No, Liz," he insisted. "I'm serious. For your own good. I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but it's best you move to Oregon and don't come back."

I nodded like I understood. "Okay, Dad."

The ominous note we parted on bothered me. Why was he so adamant I never return to New York?

I promised to keep in touch; Dad vowed to keep us updated, although the media always beat him to it. I left in a hat and sunglasses, a disguise contrived by mom and I to thwart the paparazzi. Dad's arrest had garnered national attention, thrusting us into the limelight; it wasn't until then I realized I took privacy and anonymity for granted. Hopefully in Oregon I could walk the streets without being pursued like a gazelle on the African savanna.

Mom hailed a taxi. "JFK, please," she told the driver as we clambered into the backseat, asking me "How'd it go?" as I buckled up.

"I'm going to miss him."

She nodded, expecting no different. My eyes were drooping when my phone vibrated against my thigh. I rummaged through my bag - why'd I carry so much junk in it? - hastily extracting it. Swiping the screen and pressing it against my ear I murmured, tentatively, "Ned?"

"No. It's Peter."

I rolled my eyes. Clever boy. I should hang up now, but decided to give him another chance - perhaps one too many. "Oh. You." I sneered.

"Liz, I'm sorry about everything."

"You've said sorry so many times its lost it's meaning. You left me at the dance, Peter."

"I did. I wish I could tell you why, but I can't."

My eyes narrowed. "Why are you acting so weird? Do you not trust me?"

He hesitated before replying. "It isn't that."

"Then why waste our time?"

"I'm not asking you to forgive me, Liz; I'm asking you to understand."

"Well, help me!"

"I'm not who you think I am. I want to be with you, but I can't. It's for your protection."

"From what? Who? My dad told me to stay away from you but I don't know -" Our trip to DC flashed before my eyes, of Peter going MIA before the team and I visited the Washington Monument, where Spider-Man rescued us from a plunge to certain death. What were the odds of him and the webslinger - whose stomping ground was the Big Apple - both being at the nation's capital?

Then the dance. Peter bailed at the start, hours before Mom's hysterical call about Dad's detainment by police. What was my runaway date doing all that time?

I glanced at Mom, too engrossed with her own phone to pay my conversation any mind. Still, I lowered my voice, proceeding with caution. "You're him, aren't you? Spider-Man? You put my Dad in prison?"

I didn't need to see Peter agonize over this; his silence was enough. I waited for (no, wanted) him to deny it, laugh at the joke it was, but instead he asked, "Do you hate me for it?"

A/N: Thanks for reading! How do you think Liz will respond to Peter's question? Please let us know what you think!