Work Text:
It’s a normal day for Jake Peralta when he gets the news; normal, of course, being the day he walks around the precinct trying to find a friend for Algernon, who has gotten pathetically lonely inside Jake’s desk drawer.
“Yo,” says Rosa from the kitchen, nursing another cup of coffee. “You seen the news yet?”
“No, Rosa,” Jake replies with a scoff, standing up straight. “You know I don’t watch the news. The news is for Charles and old people.”
“Staten Island Ferry got lasered in half.” she says, ignoring Jake’s comment completely. “Apparently Spider-Man was there. FBI too. Then Iron Man showed up and saved everyone from dying.”
Jake blinks. “Woah,” he says. “When did that happen?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
Huh. Maybe that’s why the phones started going crazy fifteen minutes ago.
“That’s definitely why the phones started going crazy fifteen minutes ago.” Rosa adds.
He blinks again. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah.”
“I wondered why my thoughts felt super loud all of a sudden.”
Rosa fixes him with a look. “Anyway, Holt wants us answering all calls as quick as possible. People are gonna be scared. Also, don’t tell people that Captain America is cooler than Iron Man.”
“But he is.”
“Debatable.”
“We’re from Brooklyn, Rosa.” Jake points out. “Home of Captain America and Bucky Barnes? Tony Stark is from California. That’s not as cool.”
“Tony Stark is from Manhattan.” Terry interjects from his desk. “Get your facts right, Jake.”
“Are we from Manhattan?” Jake fires back. “No. Didn’t think so. I rest my case.”
“Dumb case.” Rosa says. She leaves the kitchen.
“O-kay,” says Jake to himself. He looks at the ground, where he’d been scoping for a friend worthy of Algernon, and then returns to his desk. He supposes Algernon will have to wallow in his self-pity for just a bit longer.
His phone is silent for about twenty minutes. Then, as he’s halfway through Tony Stark’s Wikipedia page, it rings. He picks it up, eyes scanning the section about the billionaire’s abduction and origin story for Iron Man, and says, “You’ve reached the ninety-ninth precinct; this is Detective Jake Peralta speaking.”
“Oh, thank God,” says the voice on the other end. Just from the tone, Jake can tell it’s a woman, probably in her forties or late thirties. “Thank you for answering.”
“It’s what we do, ma’am,” says Jake sincerely. “Other than, y’know, solving crime and stuff. How can I help you?”
“Um, it’s my nephew,” she says. “I’ve—I’ve been calling him all day and he’s not answering. With the ferry accident and his penchant for danger, I just...wanted to know if you’ve seen him around, or anything.”
“I can get IT to scan traffic cameras within a ten mile radius of our precinct.” Jake offers. “All I need is a name and an age to narrow the search.”
“Thank you.” the woman says softly. “His name is Peter Parker, he’s fifteen years old.”
Fifteen. No wonder this woman sounds upset. “Okay.” Jake writes it down. One of his software guys passes his desk, so he hands him the notepad and mouths search. “I’ll get the results back as soon as possible for you.”
“Okay,” she replies. “Okay, thank you. Sorry to bother you with this.”
“It’s not a bother.” he promises. “Like I said, it’s what we do.”
“I just—I’ve called four other precincts,” she admits. “And, um, you’re actually the first one to do anything for me.”
Jake wishes he was surprised. Then again, the Nine-Nine is the best precinct, and he’s definitely not biased at all. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“And I know I’m not the first family member calling about somebody to make sure they’re okay, especially today, but—he’s just so young, you know?” Jake knows enough about civilians to know that this woman is rambling because she’s stressed. He closes the Tony Stark Wikipedia page and leans back in his chair. He knows it’s just best to listen. “And—he just lost Ben—his uncle—and he’s dealing with a lot right now, and he always answers his phone, always, so I’m just a little—” she breaks off, letting out a laugh. “Sorry. Sorry! You don’t need to know all of this. I’m just freaking out. A little.”
“It’s understandable.” Jake promises. His heart’s twisting, just a little bit. This kid’s fifteen and he lost his uncle, and by the sound of it, his parents probably aren’t around either. He doesn’t have it easy. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to try and locate your nephew, ma’am. If you don’t mind me asking, when did you last have contact with him?”
“This morning,” she says. “I said goodbye to him when he went to school. So he’s not—he’s not missing, but—”
“It’s all right.”
“—I’m probably just working myself up, he’s probably just with his friends or something, maybe that’s why he hasn’t answered his phone—”
“It happens sometimes.” Jake agrees. The woman’s breathing has hitched just a little bit, so he says, “You know, I don’t think I ever got your name.”
“Oh. It’s May. May Parker.”
“Nice to meet you, May. I’m Jake.”
“Yes, you said that.”
“...I knew that. I just like introducing myself twice.”
She laughs again. This time, it’s less hysteric, more amused. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Jake swivels in his chair to look around the precinct. As he does, the guy he’d handed the paper to catches his eye. Hopefully, Jake raises his eyebrows.
Samson, the tech guy, just shakes his head.
“Ah,” says Jake softly. He lowers his head and sighs. “I’m sorry, Ms. Parker. We...didn’t get any facial recognition on your nephew in the area.”
“Okay.” May repeats. “Okay, that’s...that’s okay. That’s all right. Thank you so much for checking for me, anyway. I appreciate it. I—I’m sure he’s okay. Thank you.”
“Hey,” says Jake, before she can hang up. Don’t get involved, says Rosa’s voice in his head, but as he normally does, he ignores it. “Actually, would you—would you mind letting me know if he gets in contact with you before the end of the night? I’ll give you my cell number.”
“Oh.” May says, sounding surprised. “Yeah, I can—I can do that.”
“I just...wanna make sure he gets home okay.” he admits. “And in the worst case scenario, I wanna be as on top of this as possible.”
So Jake gives May Parker his personal cell number. She thanks him for his time. When he apologizes for not being able to give her any solid information, she just waves it off with another thank you.
Then she hangs up, and for some reason, Jake can’t shake the feeling of a pit growing in his stomach.
=
“Ben Parker,” says Captain Holt, when Jake asks him just before he heads out. “I remember that case. It was tied to a robbery attempt at a bodega in Queens. The robber came out of the store and shot the man point-blank. If I remember correctly—and I do, since my memory is impeccable—the man’s nephew was there when he got shot.”
“Wow,” says Jake, feeling worse by the second. “Did they catch the guy?”
“No.” Holt answers, and it’s like a punch to the gut.
=
He’s just getting home after spending the evening at Shaw’s when his phone pings.
It’s an unsaved number, but he knows who it’s from immediately after scanning the message.
Peter’s home safe. Thank you.
Jake smiles. He texts back, everything alright?
The reply takes a few minutes. He lost an internship that meant a lot to him. Physically, he’s fine.
Ouch. good to hear
not the internship part
the fine part
May Parker doesn’t reply. After an hour of searching the Internet, actually watching the released footage of the Staten Island Ferry incident, he goes back to their text conversation and fires off another message.
let me know if theres anything i can ever do for u guys. never hurts to have a friend in the police dept.
Jake can’t do much. He can answer calls and try and help people with their cases. He can solve murders and stop robberies and drink a substantial amount of beer in one night.
And he’ll do his hardest to help May and Peter Parker in any way he can.

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