<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ff99">"Goodnight, kid," Tony whispered into Peter's hair.  He didn't expect to sleep himself.  He was too preoccupied with thinking about Peter's future.  Dealing with the social worker.  Dealing with Ned and MJ.  Somehow keeping his kid from turning into the same reckless idiot he was -- hell, maybe he really was going to have to lead by example and be more responsible.  Hell of a time to have to grow up, but... well.  Tony looked down at Peter's sleeping form.  It kind of seemed worth it.<br/>
<br/>
At some point, he drifted off too.  He dreamed of church pews full of faceless strangers, or worse -- or empty ones.  He dreamed of empty manor houses and too-quiet kitchens.  Mostly, he dreamed of the aching wound of loss -- his own, and Peter's.</span></span>