Peter didn't look at the night sky enough in his life. A clear night sky filled with stars is one of the most underappreciated things in the world. Very few people truly stopped to look up at it and appreciate it in all its glowing glory.

When it was a clear night, Peter would look up at the universe. He would look up and think about the different plants and stars he could see from his window. He loved looking at the sky, but he never did it too often. Always too busy with school or on patrol to really set aside time to stare at its beauty. Maybe he should have.

Maybe he should have done a lot of things he enjoyed that he never did. But it was too late now.

As Peter glanced up at the luminescent moon shining like a pearl in the deep sea, he savoured the tranquillity it instilled in him. Because it might be the last time he ever saw it.

————

His patrol had started off rather uneventfully. It seemed for once everyone in the city had decided to take a break from causing mischief and breaking the law. Which was good for crime rates, Peter supposed. But it was boring for him.

Peter soon found himself sitting atop of buildings, watching the passing people and world go by after swinging around for an hour without finding anyone in need of help he could provide. Back in his timeline, he would try and help out the homeless people he passed by giving them pocket money he saved up or buying them food. Or helping them find safer spots to stay, which usually involved directing them to homeless shelters. Though, till Peter had become homeless himself, technically speaking, he hadn't even thought about the fact that people might not have been able to afford staying the night at these shelters.

Nowadays he didn't have money to give them. He barely had enough money to keep himself afloat. But that didn't keep him from feeling bad every time he swung past them without helping them. The most he could do was help find them a dry spot to sleep. Despite their gratitude, it never felt like enough. But he would have to live with it till he was more stable. When he could help them, he would.

But now, Peter was sitting atop an apartment building watching someone decorate the entrance of their apartment building with Christmas decorations.

Now, Peter wasn't one to judge people on when they start decorating, or putting up their tree, or when they started listening to Christmas carols in their own time, but when it wasn't even December 1st yet, it was a bit early to start publicly decorating. But who was he to judge? It wasn't like December was that far away. Actually now that he thought about it, it was tomorrow. Maybe it wasn't too early to decorate afterall.

Maybe Peter was just being cynical because he knew he probably wouldn't be able to decorate or celebrate like he normally would this year. Not that he would have anyone to celebrate with anyway. But he tried to not think about that. He had to stop feeling bad about himself.

Being here was a good thing, he could help people. And it was better than sitting in his universe that was falling apart. Here he could help save a universe that hadn't fallen apart yet. Which was actually how Peter had spent his day earlier. Thinking about what he had to do to help.

After breakfast earlier, Peter had made his way down to the library and into the computer corner. After spending the last 3 weeks getting on his feet and feeling bad about himself and the decision he had made, time was passing faster than he could keep up. He had to start thinking about how he was going to prevent the awful events that plagued his world from happening here.

Pulling out some paper and pens that the library supplied, Peter started a list. "Of what?" You might ask. A list of everything bad event that Peter could remember happening that he would need to change to prevent the world going to shit.

Which contained the following:

Accords implementation

Airport fight (as result of accords)

Steve Bucky vs Tony fight (as a result of Tony's parents death at the hands of the Winter Soldier)

Avengers Separation (termination?)

Thanos arrival

Loki's death (Thor was pretty sad about that)

Vision's death

Thanos snap/ the blip

Tony's death

Natasha's death

Steve's "death"

Wanda's Westville breakdown

John Walker receiving the shield

Well, that was a lot more than he thought. Though most of them were results of and the reason for each other. So solving one thing would make others easier to prevent or change. But looking down at the handwritten list in front of him, the task ahead of him felt more daunting than ever. But at least now he could make a plan. At least now he could see the work he had to do.

Now it didn't feel like an impossible task he could never achieve. Now it felt like a challenging project. Not impossible. Difficult of course. But he wouldn't have been sent back to fix things if there was no chance that he could change anything. Right?

The list was long, but Peter's determination would go on for longer. He wouldn't sit by and watch the world burn. Not again. Not when he knew what to fix. This time, he could be the hero he wanted to be back then. He had the knowledge, he wasn't getting the training, he had the powers. Now he just needed the courage. Which would come with time.

Peter stared nervously at the first few dot points. The Accords. That was his first task. Great.

Back when Peter had first met Tony, when he got dragged into the Accords fight, he didn't know anything about them. Sure, there was a little news coverage about the Avengers having to be held accountable, but nothing on the front page that Peter really looked at. He was just fighting because he was told too, not because he believed in it.

It wasn't till later, a few weeks after the airport fight that he even took the time to look at what the Accords even were. It wasn't even till a few weeks after that he formed an educated opinion on them.

The thing was, he agreed with Tony on some points. And agreed with Steve on others. The more he read, the more Peter couldn't believe there were only two sides to the agreement. Because the idea of Accords was right—the Avengers need something to hold them accountable for the damage they cause. They couldn't keep acting as an independent entity outside of the law. They need regulations just like everyone else in the world does.

But that doesn't mean that the Accords should be limiting their ability to help protect people. They should be there to hold them accountable, not hold them back. They were written by someone who was clearly against superheroes and it shows. They need to be edited, a lot, but not entirely ditched. Which was where Peter disagreed with Steve.

Yes, they were faulty the way they were. But by completely ignoring them and walking away, he threw away his chance to change them and make them more agreeable. You can't fix a house you aren't in.

But then again, Tony wasn't entirely right either. He blindly agreed with the Accords idea without fully realising that what they were doing was damaging to enhanced people who just wanted to exist. The same with those in power who signed it. Everyone agreed or disagreed with the idea of them but very few looked into it enough to be able to say they had an educated opinion on them.

They all had opinions, and grudges. Everyone was quick to pick a side cause everyone was already at odds because of the Ultron fiasco. So step one, Peter supposed, was getting them closer to each other and getting them to talk. Great. That meant he had to get closer to both of them, which would probably be easier if they all knew he knew them all. He could worry about another time.

Scanning down the list, Peter's eye caught on the word "Thanos". The main reason he had to change things. The main reason for his world being the way it was. How was he going to stop the Mad Titan when not even the combined forces of the Avengers could. The only thing they have this time that they didn't have then is knowledge. He could plan this time, he knew what Thanos needed. He just had to stop him. Which would take planning. Lots of planning.

He still had time before anything on this list happened in this world, so he should have time. But what if he didn't? What if he spent too long worrying that everything was already set in stone? What if there were some things he wouldn't be able to change? What if it was already too late?

Folding the paper and sliding it carefully into his pocket, Peter had left the library. He knew what he had to do. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he was. He had to. Besides, he was Spider-Man. It's his job to help people who couldn't help themselves.

He could still feel the weight of the list in his pocket, even though he didn't have it on him. Though he tried to shake the nervous thoughts from his head. He couldn't let himself drift off while he was supposed to be focusing on patrol. Even if there wasn't much going on he still had to be alert.

Standing up from his spot on the building's edge, Peter stretched out his back before extending his arm and swinging around the city once more—the cool air flying passed his face. He soon found himself in the rhythm of the swing. It felt cathartic to just exist as he swung. He was calm. Peter breathed deeply through his mask. The cold air felt like a freezing cup of water down his throat. He was at peace, until a voice caught his attention.

"We gotta be more careful, remember what boss said. People have been sniffing around too much, we don't want to let the whole operation go public," the first man whispered as he dragged the other down a dark alleyway. The only thing lighting their way was the bright glow of the moon.

"Toomes is just being paranoid, he always thinks people are gonna find us. They won't, we're too underground for that."

Toomes.

So they were part of the alien weapons ring. Maybe it wasn't going to be a quiet patrol after all.

"You can stop worrying, alright? Look, just go home." The second man continued as they reached a crossroad. They began to depart, both going in different directions. But Peter couldn't let that happen. He had hoped that they were going towards the hideout, though things didn't always go his way. But at the very least he could leave them for Nat and Clint to talk too so they can find Toomes.

Jumping down from his rooftop hiding place, Peter landed gracefully on the ground between the two men.

With a sly smile he said, "Unfortunately, I can't let you go. Unless, of course, you would direct me towards the weapons hide out. I would love to have a chat with Toomes, was that his name?"

Peter feigned confusion, tapping his chin as if in deep thought as both men turned to face him. One with a face filled with annoyance, the other had gone white as a sheet. Peter stepped back slightly, so that he wouldn't be caught between the two as he continued speaking.

"So do we have a deal, or would you prefer to fight?"

As the person on his left went in for a right hook, Peter could tell they picked fight. He dodged immediately as he saw the fist coming his way, he didn't want to show up to the internship with another bruise. He barely got away with it last time, he doubted people would let it slide again.

After dodging, Peter grabbed the extended arm and threw him against the wall. He quickly webbed the man in place. The man's entire left side was covered in web, sticking him to the wall at a slight angle. But as he went to shoot another web, his spider sense alerted him of the incoming fist behind him. Bending his body out of the way, Peter elegantly dodged again. Letting the man fall forward from the missed punch, Peter got his bearings back at the sudden action.

The fight didn't last long, in all honesty the remaining man didn't have horrible technique, though it was obvious that he was tiring while Peter stayed active. With a final hit, Peter pushed the man against the opposite wall to the other webbed up man. He fell back, hitting his head slightly as he did so. The man groaned, rubbing his head, but remained still.

Approaching the man, Peter jokingly said "Stay, I hope you don't mind me borrowing your phone. I have a phone call to make."

Peter reached forward to look for the man's phone. But he never made it to the man. As he reached forward, Peter heard a loud crack. Pain blossomed in his stomach. His eyes went blurry as all the sounds around him dialled to an 11. The world around him faded in and out of focus as he reached a shaky hand down to his stomach. Pulling away his hand, he saw it was covered in a thick layer of deep crimson.

He had been shot. Peter looked shakily at the man in front of him, he wasn't holding a gun. The man behind him, he hadn't webbed him up properly. He turned his head to look at the half webbed up man as the one in front of him quickly ran over to him, freeing his friend. Both members of Toomes' gang looked up at him with uncertainty.

"Do we kill him?" the unarmed man asked.

"No, I don't wanna add murder to my list of crimes if we get caught. No one comes down here anyway, just leave him."

With one final look, they ran. Leaving him bleeding out on the floor. Peter's ears were ringing, they had definitely said something else before leaving, but Peter couldn't figure out what they had said. His brain too concentrated on the stabbing pain in his stomach. At some point, Peter had fallen onto his back. He couldn't remember when, but he must have because he was now looking at the peaceful sky.

As Peter's world came crashing down with one bullet, the night sky remained still. Untouched and beautiful despite it all. He would miss the sky and the beautiful glowing orb that was the moon.

He could feel the warm blood oozing from his body, blanketing the floor. He knew that he should move, go home a patch up his wound. He was Spider-Man, he should be able to take a bullet and keep going. Though his mind screamed at him to get up, he didn't. It felt as though his body had been sewn to the floor. Movement impossible.

And then again, did he want to move? If he died right here, it wasn't like anyone was going to miss him. No one at the internship would know how to find him, Bucky and Steve would just think he stopped talking to them. Weasel and Wade would probably just think he moved.

If he died right now, all the weight of his responsibilities would be lifted off his shoulders. There would be nothing left he had to do. Because he wouldn't be able to do anything at all. He wouldn't have to save a universe that had already started to fall apart. He could be at peace.

No more nightmares.

No more hiding.

No more being alone.

No more going hungry.

No more.

He could be with his family again, his parents. Everything he lost, he would get back. Everything he had cried over, would be his.

Oh God, did he want to die?

Or did he just not care anymore. Was he ready to die? Or did he just want to go somewhere where he could live. Really live. Not just survive. Where he didn't have the pressure of the world on his shoulders. Somewhere he owed nothing to anyone. He could just be.

And yet, Peter knew deep down, he couldn't die. He had so much work to do. People were relying on him to save them. He had a responsibility to use his powers to save an entire universe of people who could lose everything. Like his had.

He couldn't let down Tony in two universes. He couldn't let Tony die again. He couldn't die. Not again. He had a purpose, for now. What would even happen to this universe if he died? Remember what the voice had said. He had to succeed.

Despite the pain and weakness of his body, Peter forced himself to get up. His shaky legs barely held up his weight. At first, he stubbled. Though as he used the alleyway walls to balance, Peter took in a deep breath. He couldn't stay out here. It was too dangerous, especially with his injury. Though, he wouldn't be able to swing home.

With a sigh, Peter put his hand over his bullet wound to try and stop the bleeding. He knew his way around the area, he was barely a 5 minute walk from his home—10 since he knew he would have to avoid the main streets. Grimacing at the movement, Peter began the not-so-long walk home.

The walk itself wasn't too hard, he had almost grown used to the dull pain as he walked, though it was still extremely painful when he turned the wrong way. But the hardest part was climbing up and through the window into his home. He groaned as he climbed, no longer worried about drawing attention to himself. There was no one around to hear him.

He stumbled to his bed, panting as he did so. The bleeding had slowed down slightly. Peter mentally high-fives himself for eating more today, causing his advanced healing to be working better than if he hadn't. Small wins.

Peter slowly got out of his suit, dropping it next to his bed, and carefully changing into his normal clothes. Ripping off some fabric from one of his shirts to bandage his wound. Swearing as he tightened the fabric over his wound. Falling back into his bed, he tried to slow his breathing.

He was fine. He was fine.

Or he would be, once his bullet wound healed over.

Peter looked around his room, it was freezing, in his stumble to his bed he hadn't turned his heater back on. Yet he couldn't find it in him to go and turn it on. Just opening his eyes made him feel dizzy, which was probably not a good sign if Peter was being honest.

He could feel his blood start to bleed through his makeshift bandage already. That, paired with his dizziness and the stabbing pain, made Peter fear he wouldn't be able to heal alone. Yes, he had decided he didn't want to die. But his wound might have other ideas.

What other choices did he have? Peter tried to remind himself that he wasn't completely alone. He had people, he just had to get to them. The bar was too far away, Peter doubted he would even be able to get there without fainting from blood loss. Same went for SI, besides, he doubted they wouldn't just call an ambulance he couldn't afford if he showed up in the lobby with a bullet wound. So what choices did he have left?

From his steadily rising pain, Peter knew he couldn't wait it out by himself without risking dying in this unknown building. But was he really going to go to someone with a bullet wound? What would he even say when the questions rolled around? Would he tell them part of the truth? Tell them everything?

Peter argued with himself, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He couldn't wait any longer, he needed help. And there was only one person who was close enough for Peter to get there alone. He just hoped he was home.

Rising slowly from his bed, Peter carefully made his way down the cold street of New York. He was wearing a hoodie to hide his wound, so he didn't have to take the back alleyways. It wasn't too long till Peter arrived at the apartment building, though the sharp pain in his stomach made it feel like an eternity.

Arriving at his door, Peter knocked, feeling his head spin as he did so. He prayed the man was home.

Please, please, please, please–

"Peter? What are you doing here?" Bucky asked, opening his door at the sight of the teen. Confusion lacing his words.

As his voice lodged in his throat, scared any words he would make would sound like a scream, Peter found the strength to open his hoodie, revealing the bullet wound to the super soldier.

Peter only stayed awake long enough to see the confusion in Bucky's eyes turn to frightened concern before his legs gave out. Feeling his eyes close, Peter passed out into Bucky's waiting arms.

Hopefully he had made the right call in letting Bucky in.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.