timeflysbye

by Lazydaily

marvel peter gotham

11. Chapter 11

As much as everyone - and Miles really means everyone: himself included - wanted to jump the gun and immediately go to Spidey's secret storage unit, Torchy managed to wrestle control of their singular shared braincell, stopping them all from instantly diving out the window, "The laptop may have important clues on it. What I'm thinking happened is," he points to the bed, "Spidey was in his civilian clothes and checked something out on his laptop. Whatever he saw must have been important enough to have him rushing out of the door. He didn't grab his suit or wallet, so he must have been in a serious hurry. He then went to the storage unit where his transporter-thingy is being stored, and something happened there."

"Shouldn't we head straight to it then?" Daredevil argues, "It's already been over a month. Almost two , for Christ's sake. What if-"

"And what if we make things worse ," Torchy interrupts, and he'd totally be on fire if he had less control of his powers. Already steam was wafting off of his shoulders, "I want Spidey back as much as-"

"Do you?" Deadpool spits, crowding into Torchy's space, "Do you really want him back? Because it seems like you wanna stall-!"

Everyone is bristling, tensions are wound tight, and Miles wonders if these three had known each other before Spidey's disappearance, or if they've only started working together recently to keep Queens safe and to find Spider-Man. The energy of the room is ramped up to a hundred and Miles thinks that Peter would tell him he's too young to be worrying about making everyone happy. So Miles doesn't try to appease them - they're adults, it's not his job - and leaves them to it.

He steals one of Spidey's backpacks and stores the laptop inside of it, and then heads to the window. Daredevil notices, "Kid? Where are you going?" Torchy and Deadpool snap to attention. Miles shrugs, "You three can figure yourselves out. It's not my job to find a solution. I'm going to do what I said I would: break into the laptop and figure out what Spidey was looking at. Wait for me, don't wait for me - not my problem. I'll text when I'm done and what I end up finding."

And Miles ducks out of the window and leaves.

(Matt waits until he knows that even big-Spidey's hearing wouldn't be able to catch his words, "Our Spidey would have broken up your argument before it even started. He'd have sensed it in the air and made it his problem, even though it isn't. That Spidey…"

"He's young," Johnny's voice is soft, "It's not the kid's job to help us get along." He glances at Wade, who is still bristling, "Let's wait until the kid hacks into the laptop. Then we'll all go."

"I dunno how the fuck you think waiting is going to do any good, but whatever," Wade grumbles, but its still an agreement.

"I want him back," Johnny tries to keep his voice hard, but mostly it's tired . He's tired, "I just want him to be safe. And home."

"I know. 'M just afraid this isn't home anymore," Wade admits, "And the longer Spidey is somewhere else, the more he'll forget about us."

The following silence is uncomfortable.)

For a while, Jason and Peter didn't say anything to each other. They just sat back-to-back, their breathing having long synced up. It wasn't as if they had nothing to say to each other: the issue is the exact opposite.

There is too much to say - too much to attempt to explain - yet they need to explain. Peter needs to explain.

Not , Peter tells himself firmly, because he is obligated to give Jason an explanation, but because he wants to.

But Peter doesn't know how to explain and figures now isn't exactly the best time, "I ran into Robin on my way here," Peter eventually says, and Jason doesn't have an obvious reaction to that bit of news, so Peter continues, "...I told him I was heading to the docks. I imagine he'll be showing up soon."

Now Jason seems to bite back a wince, trying to hide his own anxieties, and Peter can't help but wonder what Jason's dosage of fear toxin is making him think. Of what already-present fears it might be enhancing.

But Jason isn't obligated to explain anything either, and he doesn't seem to want to. Jason ignores his own reaction entirely and forces his shoulders to relax, "What's the story?" He asks gruffly.

"Eh?"

"Y'know. Our story. Y'Peter or are y'Greenie? I can find you something to cover yer face with if y'pick Greenie," Jason offers, and Peter thinks to himself "It can't be this easy."

Peter doesn't try to keep the genuine surprise out of his voice, "You'd… help me hide my identity? And keep my secret?"

Almost defensively , Jason shoots back, "Y'doubt me that much, Pete?"

Except there is nothing almost about Jason's defensiveness. He's hurt, Peter realizes, just like how Peter had been hurt upon finding out that Nic and Jason were the same. And it feels unfair that Peter can't explain now, but he can hear the sound of a car - the fucking Batmobile, probably - and lightly (in order to not further aggravate Jason's concussion) bumps his head against Jason's, "I'm both," He says simply, "But I'd prefer to explain when you aren't having a really shitty trip and I'm not one too-fast movement away from smashing someone's skull in. Also," Peter adds, before Jason can fully process the fact that Peter's willing to be open about his identity (identi ties , but that's neither here nor there), "Batman's here. Or will be, in like two minutes."

"You can hear him?" Jason asks, in a pretty good attempt at ignoring the elephant in the room. "Yeah," Peter admits, "I can hear the car. Two minutes is a pretty rough estimate, though. I'm not all here right now."

"Yeah…" Jason drawls, "lmma 'bout the same."

The next two minutes are silent, except for the last forty-five seconds, when even Jason can hear the thrum of the Batmobile's engine. The sound of the engine cuts, and two pairs of footprints are sprinting toward them. Towards the building.

"If he breaks down the doors I might have a heart attack," Peter murmurs under his breath, and Jason (impossibly) laughs - a genuine laugh - and even manages to tease Peter back, "If y'went through the door like a normal person y'wouldn't have to worry about about that. Instead you…" Peter can feel his head tilting upward as Jason looks to where a ceiling would be, had Peter not ripped it off.

Peter would have said more, but the door opens, and now two people (plus some unconscious bodies) have become four people (plus the same amount of unconscious bodies, which is two and a bit, to be specific). Fortunately for Batman's head's connection to the rest of his body, he doesn't slam through the door, which means that Peter doesn't instinctively decapitate a hero. Hearing Jason's laugh probably helped Batman cool down, considering that Peter had heard the footsteps falter - barely noticeable, but undoubtedly there - as he did so.

"Yo," Peter and Jason greet in sync, staring at Batman with equally tired looks. Peter can't see Batman's eyes, but he can hear his heart and watch his body language, and Peter hadn't thought that he would end up being the one to give Batman a heart attack, but the poor old man's heart rate - which was already going at a rapid-fire rate - only increases .

Admittedly, as Peter scans the office, which he hadn't really done yet, he can understand why old Batsy is flipping his shit.

But Batman is a professional and walks inside anyway. His bulk had been blocking the door, and Robin bursts in behind him immediately, taking the scene a lot more obviously. He then does a double-take, "Wh- Todd- no, wait, Hood!" Peter is impressed that the kid is able to sound so arrogant and condescending when he looks about two steps away from crying, "Why is your mask off? And- and- What are you doing here? And-!"

Batman is having a panic attack, Peter notes to himself. He's keeping it together on the surface, but his breathing is far too fast and his heart rate hasn't slowed. Even through the mask, it is obvious that he's staring at Jason, and can't seem to look away. It's like he doesn't even see Peter.

"Jason," Peter interrupts Robin, "Say something. Please."

Jason thinks that Peter needs to hear his voice, but Peter is doing this for Bat- for Bruce.

"Whadda wanna hear?" He barks, with no real bite, "That Alfred makes great cookies? That I'm freezing my ass off in this water? That Killer Croc is starting to twitch?"

"I actually don't wanna hear that last one," Peter snarks back, but looks over at Croc - Killer Croc, to be precise - and huh . Jason's right. Croc must actually be pretty sturdy, because for the average person, Peter's elbow smackdown would have taken them out for far longer.

"Hey, Croc. Croc!" Peter wheedles, and Bruce is starting to be Batman again, going back into business mode as Peter very obviously starts nagging a high ranked criminal, and as far as he knows, Peter is still Peter . In fact, only now does Batman even seem to notice Peter. Jason elbows him to shut him up and stop him from saying anything else to Croc - which might be a blessing in disguise, because Peter has no good jokes right now that won't be horribly morbid, which absolutely no one needs at this moment - before Jason starts to climb to his feet, biting back a pained groan as he did so. Peter springs to his feet before Jason can move too far, and helps him stand up fully. Robin is preparing to jump Croc as the poor villain is probably elbow deep in a pretty bad concussion, and Peter really doesn't want to deal with any of this. Channeling his inner Mister Reed, Peter prepares to split himself in four opposite directions. Except, Peter's limbs aren't stretchy, so he does the next best thing.

One: "Oh shit, is the creepy toxin guy moving?!"

Two: "Jason, weren't you hit with that toxic stuff?"

Three: "Oh right: the guy that looked like he was made of mud, what happened to him?"

Four: Thunk.

Peter really should have been an evil villain. He is so good at this distraction thing, because three things happen at once: Robin pounces on Scarecrow (who hadn't actually been moving, but he really isn't moving now), Batman is at Jason's side, administering the antidote, and Jason is sucking in a deep breath and looking around hurriedly, and thus doesn't have time to protest Batman pulling up his sleeve and injecting the syringe. In fact, he barely seems to even notice , and turns to Batman, "Quick, B: Clayface was here. We need to…" Peter tunes him and Batman out, and flicks one of his precious coins - part of the fifteen cents he's impulsively kept at his side this entire time, save for when he goes out as Mister Green - into the side of Croc's head right as it begins to rise. Peter's impeccable aim hits Croc in just the right spot, and the force of the projectile knocks him right back out again.

Perfect.

After that, Peter very firmly keeps his hands in his pockets and out of the way as Batman calls the police and calmly reports, "The Scarecrow, Killer Croc, and Clayface have all been detained at the docks. Come quick." The next couple minutes before the police arrive are spent scooping up the mud-man and tying up the other two villains. The mud-man and fake-Peter had been the villain Clayface, apparently, which is a name still so unfortunately on-the-nose that Peter is starting to think that Gotham is even more uncreative than his universe. His home. At least Kraven-the-motherfucking-Hunter has a stupidly cool name. Kraven the Hunter chasing Peter down is significantly better (and cooler) than… Clayface .

But there is also… the Rhino . And other-Peter's Sandman. And other-other-Peter's Lizard. And both-other-Peter's Green Goblin(s).

Peter doesn't have a Green Goblin. He doesn't want one either, 'cause that guy is a complete bastard in green, and fuck .

He has totally taken the Green Goblin's schtick: a little weirdo in green with a funky little vest and a strange way of flying (which is, in Peter's case, swinging ). Peter has broken the most sacred rule of costumed fighting: stealing another spandex-wearing-weirdo's schtick.

Peter is no better than a man.

(Technically he is a man, but he still thought he was better than one. Alas: it appears that all heroes are fated to fall to the repercussions of their own hubris.)

"-ete? Pete!"

Peter blinks. Nothing is any clearer. "Eh?"

"Are y'okay?" He can hear sirens in the distance. What was going on again? "Lost y'there for a bit. You back?" Peter forces himself to focus in on Jason's voice, on the way his ass feels like it is freezing off, and forcefully shoves any thoughts of shticks and homes to the side as he realizes his face is wet too.

Oh. He'd been crying.

(Why?)

"We need to leave." It is Robin's impatient (and young) voice that pierces through the layers of cotton surrounding Peter's thoughts, "The police will be here soon and we cannot allow ourselves to be slowed down by them."

Muscle memory takes over (Need to be strong for the kid!) , and Peter is cracking a smile. He can almost fool himself into thinking it is real, "Alright, alright. I'll stop slowing us down." Peter side-eyes Batman, and he watches in real time as the man prepares himself for whatever bullshit is about to sprout from Peter's mouth while simultaneously keeping one eye on Jason and one eye on Peter.

(He is totally cross-eyed right now under that mask , Peter thinks to himself, and his smile becomes a bit more real.)

"Mr. I-Am-The-Night , does your Baddie-mobile have heated seats? My as-" No, there is a child present, Bad Peter, "Tushy is about to fall off, I'm so cold right now."

"...Batmobile."

"Sorry, what?" Peter heard him.

"...Batmobile."

They're all walking to the Batmobile, and Peter's walking backward, staring at Batman with wide eyes, "Wait, as in Bat man? Bat mobile? I always thought it was the Baddie-mobile. That's what I've always heard people call it, at least."

"...No one calls it that."

Peter latches onto the delayed reaction like a shark smelling blood as he (not-so-patiently) waits at the backseat passenger door for Batman to unlock his little car, "They totally do. Everyone thinks you're calling yourself a baddie. Or that it's because you're chasing baddies. It's pretty lame, but I wasn't going to say anything. I'm so glad that instead of the Baddie-mobile, it's the…" Peter trails off, casting a pointed glance at the car, then opens the door as he hears it unlock, "... Well, I'm just glad it isn't the Baddie-mobile. That would be a super weird thing to name your car."

Batman absolutely knows that Peter is fucking with him, but Jason is losing his shit and Robin doesn't seem as tense, and Batman also knows this, and so he just lets out the most suffering sigh any man has ever released, "... I am not a baddie."

"No," Peter agrees, "You are vengeance."

Jason starts laughing so hard that he has to use Robin as a cane to keep himself upright.

Peter doesn't… remember how he got here.

Here , being… some cave? Some probably-not-random cave that, Peter thinks as he watches Batman sit down at his massive desk setup like some cheesy supervillain, if he finds out has some sort of Bat- suffix, might actually cause him to lose it.

( Here can also mean this universe, but whatever. Peter's gotten semi (not really) comfortable with that uncertainty.)

Trying to retrace his steps, Peter thinks through what he knows happened. Batman and Robin arrived at the portable office. The baddies were all tied up, and the police were called. (Although that occurred in the opposite order). Everyone avoided asking the important questions by some unspoken agreement to wait . They walked toward the car; Jason was laughing and piled into the backseat with Peter, then continued to poke fun at Robin and Batman. Peter stared out the window, and can't remember when he stopped listening. When he stopped seeing. Then he was here.

Here .

In a cave that was - in all horrible likeliness - the Batcave, because of course it would be the Batcave.

Peter… should remember. He should . But it was far too easy to zone out to the hum of the vehicle, to the sound of people talking, to his own too-fast heartbeat.

He used to do this a lot. Back when everyone first forgot. Peter would get lost in his own mind, and the world would fade away. It wasn't always a bad thing. But… he'd slip. And time would slip with him. And then it would be five minutes, two hours, four hours, six hours, and Peter is waking back up into his body - even though his eyes had only closed to blink - somewhere new. Or perhaps in the same position that he left in, his muscles stiff and aching, his throat dry, and sometimes he felt a little bit like dying, too, when the world Peter retreated to wasn't kind to him.

Mostly it was kind. Mostly Peter went somewhere good.

That's what made it so dangerous. Because Peter had thought that he'd had it under control: that slipping away for a few minutes wasn't so bad , because it made the pain less… horrible. He could handle the world and all its disappointments, as long as Peter could leave the world for a little while, too.

And then he'd done it with Miles. Matt and Wade had gotten used to Peter sort of… zoning out, sometimes. They got it: got that the world could be too much, that Peter had to escape in order to keep living. But Miles didn't know. Miles didn't know and Peter had terrified him when they'd finished an entire patrol route and Peter… couldn't remember what had happened during it. Miles had been asking him questions about the things they saw - the way Peter had spoken to one of the victims caught in the crossfire of a mugging, how Peter had managed to pull off a certain maneuver - and Peter couldn't answer because Peter didn't know .

Miles had seen Peter's confusion, had watched as Peter sunk back into his own body far too slowly, and he'd been panicking. He wouldn't admit that he'd been panicking, of course, but he was , and all Peter could think of the next day was what if .

What if Peter had been stuck too far in his own head to connect some important dots, and what if that caused Miles to get hurt.

What if Peter's own negligence resulted in a civilian getting hurt.

What if Peter couldn't leave his own mind, one day.

…

(What if he stopped wanting to leave?)

And Peter… Peter did what he could. Therapy was the best option - the smartest choice - but even the idea of it made Peter want to step out of his skin. So Peter did the next best thing, and Googled "How to stop leaving your body" and then adjusted his search accordingly, because astral projection seemed more like Mister-Doctor Strange's (or maybe he's just Stephen now, but also maybe he's not ) schtick than what Peter was actually looking for.

So Peter started breathing.

And journaled.

And when he started to slip, Peter asked " Why am I leaving?"

He'd been doing good . Or, maybe not good, but better . He'd been living in his body. He'd been existing as him . It has taken months to reach this point. It was still a work in progress. But Peter ha still been making progress.

Going to an entirely different universe had somewhat put a stop to Peter's leaving, until now. Now that he's thinking about it, though, that might have to do with Peter living in a constant state of being on high-alert.

And then Peter's greatest fear had stared right at him - a fear he hadn't even been ready to take a single glimpse at and address and say "You are real" to - and yet he was forced to recognize the fact that his greatest fear had long come true.

Peter can see Robin taking Batman's place at the super-villain desk, a giant coin, Batman heading over to Jason… Peter can see the welts and bruises already forming on Jason's torso. He can see Jason's black eye. He can feel a dime in his pocket, but not the nickel, since he'd flicked that one at Croc. Peter can feel the weight of his backpack on his back, can feel his soaked clothes - can feel the weight of Sherry's glare when Peter will eventually have to tell her that he broke the camera because there is no doubt that thing is soaking wet by now - and can feel a draft hitting his face. Peter can hear the sound of a tube of ointment - probably for bruises - being opened, the sound of Robin tapping on his phone, and the sound of a car pulling into what is likely Wayne Manor's driveway. The car was going too fast and hit the brakes too hard. Peter can smell cookies and blood - Jason's blood, from abrasions formed by the chains - and can taste his own bile that he had choked back during his very awful (and non-consensual) trip on fear toxin.

Peter can no longer hear his own heart beating. Not because it stopped, but because it relaxed back into the normal tempo that has become the backdrop of Peter's life ever since the spider bite. Peter can no longer hear Batman's heart racing , or see anxiety in the way he holds himself. Peter can no longer smell Jason's sweaty and sickly fear, or taste the salt from Peter's own tears.

Peter can feel ten cents in his pocket, a now-soaked gum wrapper, and no lint (since he isn't wearing his jeans). He can feel his flip phone in the other pocket, and has no doubt that the behemoth of a thing survived the water when any other technology would have been fried to a crisp.

He can feel everything - sans a nickel and some lint - that he'd originally brought in his pockets to this world, and he can feel himself breathe out slowly. Peter is inside his own body as he walks toward a tiny trash bin and tosses the gum wrapper away, and he shudders at the feeling of getting rid of something.

But he feels lighter, too.

Alfred opens the door at the top of a very precarious staircase carved in stone, and calls down, "Come up for cookies. Everyone is here."

And Peter wonders how long he'd been standing there blankly in the Batcave before he came back to himself.

But he is here now.

And he has some explaining to do.

(After, of course, he figures out why Jason had been kidnapped in the first place. And ate some of Alfred's cookies.

Peter was - unfortunately - only a man, after all.)

Everyone apparently means everyone . Some of them came straight from patrol - like Cass, Steph, and Tim, who were still in their suits - while it must have been Dick's car that Peter had heard squealing into the driveway. He must have driven from… wherever he lives… in a rush, because he's still wearing pajamas.

(Peter isn't a huge fan of the idea that he was out of his head long enough for Dick to make the probably-not-insignificant drive to Wayne Manor. But he cannot beat himself up over this: Peter absolutely refuses to.)

Duke looks just as sleep rumpled as Dick, and Peter hopes he hadn't been woken up just for this. Peter is starting to get the urge to projectile vomit on them all to break the tension. Or maybe that's just him feeling sick to his stomach.

Robin is the one to break the silence, "Father, I do not understand why we are showing an outsider the truth of our identities!"

Perfect . Peter can deal with this, "I've known the whole time. Cass and Mr. Alfred can vouch for me."

The smell of cookies gets closer, and Alfred appears in the entrance to the parlor, carrying a tray of cookies. He gives Peter a pointed look, and Peter hurries to sit down. Alfred sets the cookie tray closest to him, and directs Jason to sit down as well with some silent eye communication, "This is true. I have known about Peter for a while. Plus, he has known about Miss Cass's identity since the start. Once one person is revealed, it is only natural to conclude the rest of your identities."

Cass nods, "Mhm. Peter's known from the start."

Batman - or Bruce , Peter supposes he can safely think of him as Bruce now - turns to Cass with an accusatory glare, "You said he only knew your identity."

"I never confirmed with Peter that he knew, but I had a hunch. Plausible deniability."

Jason laughs a bit, then stops as realization dawns over his face, "Wait, Cass, is that why…With the fire…"

Peter is not ready for that conversation, and has questions of his own, "What happened?" Jason's mouth snaps shut, and he turns toward Peter instantly, "What?"

"What happened," Peter repeats, "At the docks? Why were you there? Why did you call me?"

Peter pretends not to notice the hurt that ripples over every Bat's face as they connect some (probably incorrect) dots. They think that Jason didn't want to reach out to them for help, and instead asked a scrawny civilian (ish) Peter for assistance. Cass is the only one who knows that Peter is more than a scrawny loser, but she cannot hide her dismay either.

Jason doesn't pay attention to any of them. He picks up a cookie and just stares at it, and if this is the only way that he can tell the story, Peter won't push. Bruce looks like he's a second away from snapping out an impatient "Report!" to hide his own fears and anxiety, but Peter thinks he will actually commit violence if Bruce even tries.

"I was on patrol. Not at the docks but nearby. Heard through my sources that something might be goin' on at the docks, and wanted to be prepared. But they ," Jason spits, "Must have arranged that. Some pawn or something… found me with a message." Jason's eyes flit up to look at Peter briefly, "Said that Scarecrow had a hostage. Ben Jones-Watson. Showed me a picture. I don't know… I don't know if it was an accident. If they just… picked someone random or-"

Jason trails off, and Peter knows how he feels: stupid, naive, foolish. He feels like he is going to be judged for being tricked, and Peter offers, "Since I took down the Joker or whatever, my face is pretty well-known. They probably figured I would be a more ' important,'" Peter rolls his eyes and places a heavy emphasis on the word. Weighing certain lives as more important than others was fucking stupid , after all, "Hostage or some other bullshit. But there is enough motivation to kidnap me that it wouldn't raise any red flags to hear, so. Yeah."

"Mn," Jason grunts in agreement, "So I took down the messenger," And Peter knows there has to be a joke there but now really isn't the time, so he keeps quiet, "And went to the docks. I knew where the picture was taken - in the office - so I headed there."

And horribly enough, Peter can picture it: Jason receiving news that someone he is tentatively friends with - because while Peter sees Nic (and now, slowly, Jason) as someone brotherly, that doesn't mean Jason feels the same - is being held hostage by the Scarecrow. He was probably threatened with Peter's life and safety if Jason tried to call anyone, but Jason won't mention that as he tells the story because he doesn't want his family to think that he needs anyone, and Jason's too fast strides because semi- careless strides, and then-

"Croc caught up with me. Didn't know he'd be there. Ended up with a shitty concussion and must have blacked out, because I woke up in the office chained up and feeling like garbage from my fight with Croc, and was probably dosed with fear toxin while I was out. I… Pete was there." Jason paused to eat his cookie (and take a breather). Peter wants to strangle him in a friendly way, because now everyone is looking at him in horror thinking that Peter had been fucking kidnapped by three villains . And Peter stares right back at them. He bites into his cookie like he is ripping off someone's head, and Duke winces.

"This is such a deja vu moment right now," Peter says dryly, "Getting very bug-under-microscope vibes. Reminds me of my youth."

About half a dozen sets of eyes quickly avert to look literally anywhere else, and Peter mentally fist bumps at his success. Jason doesn't notice, too lost in thought, and continues on, "Pete was there, tied up. He… Didn't say anything. Couldn't. And Scarecrow and Croc were threatening 'im. Threatening me. Said they needed me to call my buddy. Mister Green ." Jason is oozing guilt and self-hatred, and Peter doesn't know what to do. Does he butt in? Does he let Jason finish? But Jason keeps on going, and Peter won't ever interrupt someone trying to tell their story, so he stays silent, "Apparently he hasn't just been helping out during the day. Or, he has , but he's also managed to take down a shit ton of drug trafficking rings and interrupted other major crime hotspots. Costed the Scarecrow and Penguin thousands. Tens of thousands," Jason clenches his hands tightly as he stares at them, and the way his eyes are unfocused, Peter knows he sees blood on them. Peter fakes a sneeze. All eyes turn back to him and Jason's eyes are focused again. Peter's skin crawls. Still, he gets up from his chair and plops down on the other side of Jason's loveseat and slings his feet up to rest on Jason's lap. Peter is still soaked and he is actually freezing, and Jason doesn't know what to do with his hands. He's panicking, and Peter groans, "I'm cold as fuck, dude. And you happen to run like a furnace so lemme mooch right now." There is a blanket behind Jason on the loveseat and Jason acts on some brotherly instinct. He grabs the blanket and shakes it out, draping it over Peter and tucking his feet under the (super fucking cozy) blanket. He seems more aware now, and the guilt - while still present - doesn't cause his shoulders to hunch in on themselves anymore. Jason leans back.

Bruce frowns, and Peter will throw a couch at him, "That can't be right. As far as I am aware," Peter tries not to roll his eyes. Does Bruce really think that he knows everything? "Green has only dealt with small-time daylight crime. And," He concedes, "Taking down Harley Quinn."

Peter hides his laugh with a cough, and now Jason is looking at him with even more concern. At this rate Peter is going to accidentally convince everyone that he's come down with a cold.

(Because privately, Peter thinks to himself that he didn't really take down Harley Quinn so much as have a pleasant chat with her in an alley after avoiding getting shot.

And privately , Peter laughs at the notion that he wouldn't be getting his hands super fucking messy in the muck and crime of Gotham. It had been too easy really. Peter worked at a criminal hotspot, after all. And people talked. People talked far too much, and far too loudly (or maybe it's Peter's hearing that is too good), and really . It would be negligent for Peter to not involve himself! Civil responsibility and all!

Even before 'Mister Green' had technically emerged, Peter had been fucking with those douche bags. His sign off, after carefully avoiding all cameras beforehand, was to find the most hidden camera in the building and - with his face hidden - give the camera two middle-fingers.

And then he'd become Mister Green , and Peter kept up with his bullshit. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots. All it took was an idiot. Or two. Or three. (It had actually been four, because Peter had been pouring water at a table across the lounge when four absolute idiots had started complaining about how two different people with the same fucking calling card were interrupting their illegal business dealings. And Peter had wanted to pull his hair out of his skull when it still took them ten minutes to make the connection.)

Peter has (on purpose, of course) made quite a few enemies, but none of them can complain about Peter's silent dealings unless they want to publicly advertise: "HEY I HAD AN ILLEGAL DRUG RING AND THIS BRAT DESTROYED IT. CAN WE SUE?"

Peter would love to see the results of such an event occurring, of course, but unfortunately these idiots weren't that stupid.

All that to say: Peter is not surprised at all that Mister Green was targeted. In all probability, Penguin had been the one to suggest Peter Parker (or, well, Ben ) as the face of the hostage. Penguin may not have realized that Mister Green and Ben Jones-Watson were the same person, but he very easily could have made the connection between the continued disrupting of his schemes and 'Ben's' presence as a waiter. Maybe he thinks Ben is an informant, or maybe he didn't have a way to prove that they were the same person, and wanted to see Mister Green's reaction to 'Ben' being a hostage.

There hadn't been any cameras at the scene - Peter is pretty sure he would have sensed them - but he doesn't doubt that Penguin will have ways to communicate with either Scarecrow or Clayface and figure out what Mister Green's reaction had been. Maybe he'd connect the dots.

Who knows. Peter doesn't think he cares. (He does, of course, because this all feels far too familiar, but fuck , Peter can't get into that right now unless he wants to have a fun little breakdown.))

Duke hums under his breath, "I think… even without Mister Green disrupting criminal events, he still… gives people hope? The people of Gotham, for the first time in a while, actually trust one another. And help one another, without expecting anything back. And that makes committing crimes a lot more difficult: going up against a united front rather than a divided population that doesn't trust one another."

"Plus," Tim adds, "Mister Green is a threat. He's a meta with insane powers. He was in that fire and out on the street a week later. And took Harley down without a fuss, and because Jason and Cass helped him after the fire, it makes it look like he has our backing too."

"I dunno what they were expecting," Peter complains, head hanging off the side of the armrest. He'd closed his eyes a while ago, because hearing people make (annoyingly spot-on) assumptions about the different motivations folks might have to kill Peter was super weird and headache inducing, "Like. Did they think Croc would be strong enough? The fear toxin worked, yeah, but they couldn't have only been relying on that."

"Scarecrow did put fear toxin in the overhead sprinkler system."

Peter lifts his head up to look at Jason, mouth gaping open, "No fucking way."

Jason's smirk meant that he was not lying, and then the two were stifling silent laughs.

"What's so funny?" Dick presses, looking between the two.

"First thing Green did was rip the roof off the goddamn place," Jason manages to explain between his huffs, "Croc was by the door so that way he could trip the sprinkler."

"But those idiots aren't immune to it either!" Peter interjects, absolutely gobsmacked at the amount of logical leaps these fuckers must have made in order to justify their plan, "How would that manage to do anything? "

"It was just the one at the door. Croc had already been injected with the antidote, only you and him would have been sprayed if you went through the door," Jason explains, "And me, but y'know." Jason shrugs. It is what it is.

"Pause!" Steph interjects and she looks positively triumphant, "Why would Peter have been hit by the spray? Wasn't he kidnapped?"

"Oh right," Peter nods, "Yeah, the kidnapped Ben - or, fuck, me? I guess? - was Clayface. I'm Mister Green."

Jaws are dropped. Silence.

" You're Mister Green?"

"What the fuck Peter?"

"I knew it!"

"YOU!"

Damian is enraged, "You! You!" He repeats, too furious to even begin to express what he's feeling.

And yeah, Damian probably deserves an explanation the most, "Yeah, sorry 'bout all that. I better clarify: I'm also the anonymous photographer from the Gotham Glazer and the guy on the roof. That pulled you away from the bullets."

"I knew the webs were the same! You! You made me think I was going crazy! And there was the bread-!"

No one else knows what Damian is referencing, but Peter does, and he just… peace signs, "Sorry."

Damian finally takes off his mask and rubs his face, "I don't suppose you know anything about a caller?"

Now it is Steph's turn to laugh incredulously, "Peter, what the fuck ?" She repeats again.

Oh, right. Steph knew that the photographer and the caller were the same person. Peter kinda… told her.

Jason knew that the caller and Mister Green were the same (before tonight, at least, since now he knows that Peter is also , well, Peter) , and Cass knew that Mister Green and Peter were the same. Alfred is an enigma and Peter has no idea what he knows, but to figure that out feels akin to attempting to pick God's brain, so Peter is content to live in blissful ignorance.

"Funny story."

"No," Tim sounds pained, "Please don't say what I think you are going to say."

Peter closes his mouth.

Then, the mother-hen instincts within Jason, which have been tentatively lying dormant, rear their head: "YOU were the one that got burnt to a crisp?"

"And took down the Joker!" Duke adds on with a pinched expression, "And I'm not even going to ask what happened with Two-Face."

"Oh, I dismantled the second bomb there."

"I said I didn't want to ask-"

"YOU DISMANTLED A BOMB?!"

"Child's play, really," Peter offers, "If that makes you feel any better."

"It does not ," Jason shoots back tightly, a muscle in his jaw ticking, "I can't believe… No, actually, I can , and I fucking hate that I can."

Peter tends to get that reaction a lot.

(Oh, Spider-Man, I can't believe you took a bullet for me!

Oh, Spidey, I can't believe you can eat seven burritos in one sitting!

BRAT, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU AND 'POOL DYED MY COSTUME PINK!

Spider-Man, I can't believe you managed to rescue me!)

"Any other world shattering revelations?" Bruce sounds old . And tired. Now really doesn't feel like the time to mention the fact that Peter's been living with a gun wielding grandmother who he's going to want to call in a little bit.

"...I was also a vigilante back in New York and made up parts of my backstory last time to throw you off my trail? Also I'm not from this universe."

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah," Peter nods understandingly, "I'm super sorry for cheating on Gotham with New York. Wait, no-" Peter backtracks hastily, "I guess I'm cheating on New York with Gotham, since New York was there first-!"

"Peter - love you - but shut up for a second."

"Shutting."

Peter fell silent and retreated further under the blanket as everyone attempted to process Peter's cute little information dump. Jason had yet to throw Peter's legs off of his lap yet and no one is shooing him out of the manor like a rat or some other pest (perhaps even a spider? ) so… that seems hopeful, at least? Tim gathers himself first and tentatively asks, "How did you… get here?"

That was the million dollar question. "Not entirely sure? I mean, I built the multidimensional transporter that brought me here, but I don't remember how I actually ended up here or anything? Like I don't… I don't remember activating it. I actually intended to destroy the machine without ever using it, but…"

"...Now you are here." Tim finishes, and he looks slightly awe-struck, "Let me get this straight: you built a multi… multidimensional transporter? Like- uhm. Did- did you-?" He can't quite gather his thoughts, so Peter takes a random shot in the dark, "I built it on my own, yeah. In a storage unit. I'm actually way more broke in my universe than I am in this one and… yeah. Situation there isn't great , in all honesty, I'm pretty forgettable," Peter thinks that maybe he might be slightly hysterical and can hear the strain in his own voice, "But I need to go back. People need me." And I need them , Peter adds silently, but that feels far too raw.

"Blah, blah, blah, science and the multiverse is real: how the fuck did you get all of our numbers?" Peter thinks that Jason's favorite version of him has always been the caller, so the question isn't that surprising.

Peter latches onto the conversation change desperately and ignores Tim's protests by just talking louder, because that is always the best way to win an argument, "I sorta know - but mostly don't know - how. But, like, for example: Jason," Peter turns toward him, "The first thing I did after waking up here was call your number. But it wasn't your," Peter stressed the word, "Number. Or, it wasn't always? Yours? It was my- my friend," Daredevil - Matt - is a friend. Peter can say that Matt is his friend (right?), "Matt. It was his number, but it connected to yours instead."

Jason frowns, and Peter continues on, "And Dick was my other friend Johnny, and Sherry from the Glazer was my old shitty boss - luckily she's a lot better than him - and my old landlord was this crazy old woman whose basement I've been living in." These supposedly unruffleable vigilantes had their jaws dropped , and Peter could have been absolutely insufferable about that but he's a magnanimous person, "And Alfred was Happy, who ," Peter hurries on quickly, because he wasn't about to have this conversation, "Is a person. Happy Hogan. And Steph was - weirdly enough - my old girlfriend MJ, but MJ is the coolest person I've ever met so…"

"Ouch," Steph says dryly, "Calling my connection to your apparently amazing ex something weird ."

Peter shrugs, "I mean, it is weird, right? Not that you aren't cool or anything - I think you and MJ would be terrifying friends together - but it is still… I dunno. You two are super different. Same thing with Dick and Johnny. They're…" Peter trails off and looks over at Dick, "I dunno. Johnny is Johnny : my closest friend, and I don't think I've ever had an actual conversation with you before."

"Does it help if I say that it wasn't actually my phone?"

"What." Peter's voice is flat.

"Yeah. That was Tim's. He was hanging out at my place and forgot his phone there. I answered 'cause I thought the random number was him calling from someone else's line."

Oh. Peter looks at Tim. Tim waves. "Yeah," Peter agrees, "That does help."

There is silence, and Tim is going to ask who Johnny is, Peter just knows it , and the idea of trying to explain Johnny hurts for some reason, so Peter continues on, "But then it still gets even weirder, because I also got a fake-Alfred, too?" Peter started a chant in his head (Don't look at Bruce, don't look at Bruce, don't look at-) "Do you guys know anything about it?"

"Who did you call?" Bruce sounds oddly hopeful (?), "Your uncle? A mentor? Someone like that?"

Peter has never shaken his head so fast in his life, " Hell no! I called the guy who knows everything in my world," Bruce looks momentarily pleased, "But it was his fake version who was an absolute pain in my ass and used me to like," Peter flapped his hands, "I dunno. Fight this guy even though we didn't know we were fighting this guy - it's a whole thing - but then at the end of it my identity was revealed to the world and I was arrested and I tried to get him to vouch for me but apparently the real version was off planet that whole time. Or something."

(Bruce's face falls and Peter doesn't know how to feel about that.)

Cass gets up from her seat. Like always, she is absolutely mesmerizing as she moves, except this time it's tainted by the fact that it feels like Cass is about to rip someone's head off. Which! Peter admits, could be extra-mesmerizing to someone . But it was not extra-mesmerizing for him . Fortunately, Cass doesn't try to decapitate Peter and instead she bodily shoves him over on the loveseat and plops down beside him so they are shoulder to shoulder. She then also throws her legs over Jason's lap. Cass is deadly serious as she offers, "I can kill him. The real and fake. And the one who revealed your identity."

"Cass!"

"We don't kill people!"

"I second the killing part."

"Jason."

Jason throws up his hands, "So Cass can threaten to kill people but I can't ? Pah," He flops back on the couch, "Fuck off Bruce."

" Cass doesn't mean it when she threatens these things. You, on the other hand…"

Cass was definitely not joking but Peter doesn't exactly know how to tell Bruce that, so he just interrupts loudly, "The one who revealed my identity is already dead and everyone else doesn't remember me so it would be a pretty unsatisfying revenge."

Peter doesn't want to deal with another random person asking a convenient question to prompt more of his Tragic Backstory (TM) - Wade would absolutely love the fact that Peter is internally adding on a trademark - so he just keeps on chugging, "And that's a whole other story but basically Peter Parker - aka me - was forgotten by everyone, blah blah blah, trauma and anxiety, blah blah blah, I built a multidimensional transporter so that way I'm not in a world that constantly reminds me of what I lost, blah blah blah, people still remember my vigilante self and I made friends on that side of my life but feel like I don't deserve them, blah blah blah, more trauma dumping, I probably fucked up dismantling the transporter, bam!" Peter claps his hands together loudly and multiple people jump, "New universe, new trauma, new me."

"And you still want to go back?" Dick asks incredulously.

Which… is a fair question. The other Bats don't verbally agree, but Peter can tell they are thinking the same thing. Jason looks about an inch away from committing violence on Peter's behalf and Cass is a centimeter, and Tim looks dismayed and Alfred is horrified and they all are reeking of pity. Peter understands why. In their shoes, he'd be the same. The pity doesn't chafe him like it might have once have. His skin isn't crawling with the weight of their eyes, and Peter thinks that this might be healing. That he might be healing.

Because healing isn't linear. It isn't . Everyone goes at their own pace: some horrible events weigh upon people like the sky and other horrible events can be brushed away. Sometimes the little things are insurmountable. And healing is a convoluted and twisted concept, because it implies a sort of linearity: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

Five words. Five stages.

Five impossible stages.

And it feels like everything has come full circle. The location may be different - a multi-billion dollar mansion as opposed to a lonesome cot in a shelter, Cass at his shoulder and Jason by his feet instead of the aching loneliness that has pressed Peter down into the ground for years, a thick and soft blanket instead of a thin sheet - but for all Peter has gained in a physical way, he has lost, too.

He's missed so many Greasy Food Festival! Thursdays and Family Game Nights and patrols and lessons with Miles.

He hasn't put flowers on Aunt May's grave in far too long because it had hurt seeing her final resting place and he hasn't been able to bear looking at it. To read her tombstone and not see the words Beloved Aunt inscribed there. He needs to put flowers on her grave. He wants to get her flowers and sit by her grave and tell her how shitty life has been.

He's missed paying his rent. He's missed far too many deadlines for the Daily Bugle. He's missed sparring sessions with Matt that turn into late night talks that settle something in Peter.

He's never been brave enough to even try telling MJ and Ned what happened. It may be impossible. Not for them to remember him fully - Peter has long lost hope of that happening - but for him to ever gain the courage to try. But he can't be brave in another universe.

He hasn't put flowers on Ben's grave in a while, too. Before May's death, he went every year. They're buried beside one another: Ben and May. May and Ben. Peter only went to visit May's grave two times and neither time did he look at Ben's grave (Beloved Husband and Uncle) because he's been terrified that his own relation to Ben has disappeared. Been erased. But their relationship isn't defined by a word carved on a stone.

Their relationship is inscribed in Peter's heart, in Peter's memories, in Peter's existence and the way he carries himself.

And Peter has missed so many things, in so many ways. He has missed in the sense that he has missed: that he has been too late, that the time has passed by without him and he has missed events.

But he's also missed people. Traditions. Places. He has missed in the way that he has longed for something - some one - who isn't there. He has noticed an absence - a hole in his heart - because absence makes the heart grow fonder and that has always felt like a bullshit sort of statement. A cop out. But then absence - Peter's own absence and removal from his life (because Peter has a life , he has one, he's allowed to have a life ) - has made Peter realize what there is to lose. He's lost - again - and that's why the fear toxin recalled those specific memories: because Peter's own greatest fear is losing everyone he cares about again and with his own hands he built the machine that brought upon his doom. Through Peter's own actions - through his stupidity… But even then, Peter can't call himself stupid. He has lived with his own longing, after all, for while he misses the life he left behind, Peter also misses his life before , too, and he's allowed to want it back. He's allowed to grieve. But through his own actions, he lost everything again .

He missed again: he failed to reach the greatest realization of all, and that failure is embodied in the building of his transporter.

Grief isn't linear. Healing isn't linear. No one can tell Peter how to heal, at what rate to heal, when to heal: not even himself.

And - here comes the big surprise - that is okay . It's alright. It's normal.

Peter is allowed to take his time. He's allowed to process his horrific trainwreck of a life at his own speed, at his own pace, and he's allowed to feel genuine hatred in the process. But for all Peter's own hatred at the enforced idea of linearity of grief (of the shitty line of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance ) and healing, he forgot that in the end, things do get better.

Or, not better. But they become… bearable. Peter doesn't know if he'll ever be better , or if the weight of his life and loss and countless misses will ever feel less crushing.

But there are pillars now, to help Peter steady himself. To help him breathe.

Matt.

Wade.

Johnny.

Mister Reed, Sue, Ben.

The memory of MJ and Ned and their love. The memory of Happy and his unwavering support. The memory of May and Ben and their faith, their trust, their care.

Tony. And how he wanted Peter to be better than him.

Miles. And how Peter can finally understand what Tony meant by that.

"Are there more heroes in New York?" Cass asks quietly and for once, Peter can't read her.

"Yeah," He says softly, "Some of the best I've ever met."

"Why… why don't you stay with us, then? They have enough heroes. You can live here. Or with your strange old lady, if you want, or maybe…"

"Gotham needs you," Duke continues on as Cass trails off, "Gotham is better now than it was before. For the first time, I think it's even starting to be good."

Peter smiles like he's watching a miracle unfold, because perhaps he is: witnessing the proof of some form of healing that has occurred within his soul, "Yeah. Maybe Gotham does need me more than New York, but… but I need New York more than I need Gotham." And perhaps these people surrounding him - mostly strangers, but still endlessly supportive - could have been his family, if this had been Peter's real world. Maybe, if this had been Peter's home, he could have been happy here. But these people - not family, not yet, and not ever - seem to realize that Peter never makes decisions for himself, because even as their hope that Peter would stay is crushed, they seem… pleased . They're happy for him, even though his answer is bittersweet.

"I want… I want to be selfish. Can I?"

And Cass is burying Peter in a hug and he knows she is crying, because he can smell the salt of her tears and feel the shaking in her shoulders and hear her small sniffles and he knows , because Cass is good like that. And he knows Jason, because he knows Jason, and knows that the Nic inside of Jason's soul would ask for a hug even though Jason can't. So Peter sits up and Cass comes with him, and he opens his arm and Jason is there. Jason is taller than Peter and wider than Peter and he folds like a child, Peter hugs him like a child, tucking him into his side with the care that Jason deserves. With Cass on one side and Jason on the other and Granny waiting for him, Peter knows that this could have been home. Gotham could be home. It could be home with a capital H. They could be Home.

But Johnny is Home. And Matt is Home. And Wade. And Miles. And the rest of the Fantastic Four, and May and Ben's graves, and MJ and Ned, even if they don't remember him. His cold apartment isn't home because home has never been a place for Peter. Home is defined by the people, and while Gotham and her people could be Home, one day, Peter already has one. He has people who miss him and love him. And he wants to go back to them.

"I am so happy for you," Cass murmurs into Peter's shoulder, and Jason nods, his voice rough and choked as he agrees, "I just want y'to be safe and happy."

"I am," Peter promises and these people who are practically strangers are watching him cry but that's okay (and that's how Peter knows they could have become family), "I love them, y'know? They're home. I wanna… I wanna go home ."

"Okay," Cass whispers.

"Alright," Alfred agrees.

"It'll be okay," Jason comforts.

"We'll fix this," Tim promises, "We'll help you get back."

"You aren't selfish," Steph reassures.

"You are the least selfish person we've ever met."

And Peter is crying, but he isn't sobbing. He isn't running out of breath and gasping for air as his world collapses around him. He's happy. He's happy . He's allowed to be happy. He's allowing himself to be happy, for once.

And things will be okay.

Because nothing is linear, but things can still be okay regardless.

("So… how are you supposed to get back to your universe?" Tim is the one who brings them back down to reality, which… is fair enough. But that's an easy question, "Oh, well. I remember exactly how I built the first machine. So I can just build it again."

"You can," Tim repeats slowly, "Just build it again?"

"Yeah," Peter shrugs, or would have shrugged, had Cass and Jason not been leaning on him, "It only took me like… eight months? To figure out time travel? Six months of actually trying, though. Then it did take me a year to build the thing but a lot of that was gathering materials and then sometimes I wouldn't work on it for a month and. Well. Y'know how it is."

"No," Tim disagrees faintly, "I don't.")

Spider-Man Jr: got in. last thing spidey was looking at was a camera feed. he has one in the unit

Human Torch: and?

Spider-Man Jr: skimming thru the days to see when spidey disappeared. gimme sec

Deadpool: you done?

Deadpool: you done?

Deadpool: you done?

Deadpool: you done?

Daredevil: Shut the fuck up.

Spider-Man Jr: found it

Daredevil: Record a video of the screen and send it.

Spider-Man Jr: k

Deadpool: dd?

Daredevil: I am with F.

Deadpool: okayokayokayokayokay

Spider-Man Jr: Video Attached

…

Human Torch: no fucking way