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Miguel lets out a shout as two laser shots sear into his side, letting go of his web and careening out of control. The Public Eye has been waiting for him, and now they’re going to drag him to Alchemax kicking and screaming.
His distress rouses the ever-present consciousness just on the edge of his own. It’s true, Miguel could have broken the chronal link, but... a little reasonable paranoia goes a long way. Peter asks him what’s wrong in a drowsy voice. How the shock can he be sleeping at four in the afternoon?
“Shot," Miguel manages. “Falling.”
Parker becomes alert in a hurry. “Just hold on a minute, buddy.”
The request wakes him up a little. “What the shock are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get to that in a bit. Just pull yourself together and web something to stop yourself from splattering onto the pavement. I don’t want to be scooping up the next friendly neighborhood Spider-man off the concrete.”
Trying to do as Peter asked, Miguel slings out a shot of webbing, clumsily maneuvering himself around the side of a building with his healthy side. The only way he can keep ahead of the Public Eye is to swing, but injured and bleeding as he is, he can almost guarantee he won’t get far.
He glances back at the flyboys behind him, barely getting a glance but knowing they’re closing in on him. “I can’t swing fast enough. I ca -” His wound smarts, sending a tremor through him hard enough to make him lose his grip. In a last-ditch effort, he reaches out one set of talons to catch the edge of the building. When they make contact, there’s a horrible screeching noise as his clawed fingertips dig into metal. He screams as his weakened form collides with the wall.
“Still with me, Miguel?”
“Y-yeah. Just... Just wondering why my side is on fire.”
“Good, then keep swinging. Find somewhere to rest while I’m working out the kinks over here. I promise everything is going to be fine.” Peter pauses. “Squirt some webbing onto that wound. The organic stuff is pretty good for patchwork.”
“You can promise that? T-that it’s going to be fine, I mean?”
“Uhhh....”
Groaning, Miguel heaves himself up enough to start a semi-decent swing. “Whatever, just.... Get me out of this.”
Peter mutters something about Miguel being pushy, but it’s a half-hearted effort considering his friend’s current state. The two are unsurprisingly pretty close since the whole ‘My future counterpart tried to rewrite the universe’ bit, and they’ve kept up with each other’s worlds as much as Miguel is comfortable telling him about the things to come.
Peter being so nosy is almost more trouble than the connection is worth.
Somehow, Miguel spots a small nook he can hole up in. He swings into the alley below, clumsily hitting the wall. Pain lances up his side, but he has no time to think about it as he crawls inside the hidey-hole. Taking Peter’s advice from earlier, he gently spreads webbing onto his wounds.
The Public Eye doesn’t find him, so when the adrenaline fades, Miguel feels weakness settle into his bones. A few minutes pass and suddenly he realizes he’s getting cold. It’s not unfamiliar since the accident that gave him his powers, but this is a different kind of cold. While his suit may keep his blood from going far, he’s still bleeding fairly heavily.
“Miguel?”
“Hmm?”
“Listen to me. You’re going into shock. You need to keep yourself alert as long as possible. I’ll try to keep you talking, but there’s only so much I can do from here. Describe to me where you are.”
“M-…. M’ in an alley.”
“Got anything more than that?”
Miguel doesn’t respond.
“Hello?”
Miguel keeps a protective hand over his side, closing his eyes even though the light in the alley is very dim. Everything hurts. He can barely hear Peter, which is a bit of a surprise considering the fact that Parker is in his brain.
“Miguel!”
The dark-suited Spider-man doesn’t hear him, a soft noise leaving his throat as he passes out. On the other end of the link, Peter shakes his head to himself. He slots the last bit of his gadget in place, sighing as he points it at his wall.
“You know, I was at least hoping for a few test runs, Miguel. After what happened at the gateway, one might think we would have better planning than this.” He huffs. “Figures. The old Parker luck is back at it.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Peter?” MJ asks, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“I have to. Miguel is in danger.”
MJ smiles. “That the guy who supposedly saved me in an elevator, even though I don’t remember it even happening?”
“Of course, you don’t. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore.”
She kisses his cheek. “Be careful, Pete. I want you back in one piece.”
Peter tilts his head to the side, planting a kiss on MJ’s cheek with a smug kind of chuckle. “Believe it or not, I want me back in one piece too.”
She scowls, lightly slapping his shoulder. “Shut up. I’m gonna go find the first aid kit if you’re planning to bring him back here with your little gizmo.”
“Yeah. That’s... probably a good idea.”
Peter clicks the firing mechanism for his miniaturized time travel device, relief flowing through him as a colorful portal swirls to life in front of him on his living room wall. “Wow, it is a really good thing I memorized those schematics in the archives room.”
“I’ve got the kit. The real question is how you’re going to find Miguel.”
“Well, after the whole debacle with my future self, I actually got the five-hour lecture on time travel and links between past and present. It didn’t make a lot of sense at the time, but I’m pretty sure I worked it out. Since we’re connected, I’m just tracking the link.”
MJ makes a sound. “Not saying it makes sense to me, but good luck.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
Peter slips the mask on his costume, tapping the little gadget on his wrist to make sure it’s going to remain operational and saluting MJ as he steps into the portal.
He does a full turn as he steps into the future, comparing it to what he remembers. The mag-lev vehicles far above him seem about right, so he starts to look around for Miguel. It’s only after five minutes of searching that he starts to worry about the accuracy of their link.
A raspy breath draws his attention up higher on the wall. His eyes aren’t near as good as Miguel’s, but he makes out a break in the uniform face of the wall. Climbing up to check yields just the result he was looking for. Miguel is inside the crack, hidden very well thanks to his dark costume. Peter is actually pretty impressed. Miguel sounded more than a little spacey through the link, but he picked an excellent place to hide.
Of course, now the problem is going to be getting him out of it.
“Miguel? Can you hear me?” Peter taps at him, receiving no answer. “Hello?” Still getting no answer has Peter grumbling to himself. “Why can’t something just go my way for once?”
With the greatest of caution, Peter reaches for Miguel’s forearms. When he pulls on the other man’s arms, his talons fasten tighter to the surrounding brick. Peter shakes his head, not wanting to be any rougher than he has to but also very determined to help his friend.
When he finally gets an arm loose, Miguel’s entire body tenses. Peter only has a split second to react before those sharp talons are thrashing against his grip, slicing at whatever they can reach. Thankfully, for the most part, Peter is able to keep a handle on the wriggling spider. He engages his wrist gadget and falls backwards into the portal with Miguel struggling in his arms.
“Miguel, wake up!” Regrettably, Peter puts a little pressure on the wounds that are webbed over. “Wake up, Miguel! You’re safe!”
Miguel gasps for breath, lashing out with his talons as Peter lets go of him. The sharp edges catch flesh, scoring bloody lines across his chest. Peter ducks his next swing, thwipping out a line of webs and twisting around the other man to restrain his hands. It’s a bit of a makeshift straight-jacket, Miguel’s hands pinned to his chest.
The talons twist in the webbing, slowing as Miguel comes around. Peter pulls his mask free, knowing full well it’s hard to calm down when it’s hard to breathe.
“That’s it. Wake up, pal.”
Miguel looks at Peter with confusion, his head tilting as he takes in the familiar mask. “Peter?”
“The one and only.”
It’s barely noticeable, but Miguel’s talons sink down onto his skin, not retracting per se, but definitely coming out of attack mode. His shoulders slump and he swipes a hand down his face.
Miguel makes a noise as he sees the long cuts on Peter’s arms and chest. “Shock it, Parker. Why didn’t you say something?”
The man in question shrugs. “You were unconscious. Kinda difficult.”
The future Spider-man starts to get up, grunting in pain as he gets about halfway. He clutches his side, sinking back against the wall. “Where the shock am I?”
“You’re in my apartment, my time.”
Miguel shifts in another attempt to get up, groaning but actually making it this time. “But... the tech. It’s not supposed to exist here for another fifty years, and the application of it -”
“Well, you’re the one who gave me the five-hour rundown of temporal paradoxes. I just memorized it, plus a couple of things I found in the archives while I was snooping around. I figured the info might help us keep the portal stable, but it turned out we didn’t need it.”
“You memorized the schematics for a gateway through time?”
Peter shrugs. “Memorized is a bit strong, but technically, yes.”
Miguel puffs out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he gets a look around. “That is... beyond impressive. I mean, how did you get the tech, or better yet, where is it? Making a gateway isn’t just something you do overnight, and it’s not something you can carry in your pocket.”
Peter slides his gadget off his wrist, offering it to him. “Mine is. I, uh, didn’t think I’d be able to fit an actual gateway in my apartment.”
“You miniaturized it,” Miguel breathes.
MJ wanders into the room, clearing her throat as she lifts up the med kit. “Look, I know you’ve got a bit of whiplash, but I think the most pressing issue right now are those bullet holes in you.”
“Probably.” Miguel wanders over to her, sitting down on the chair she offers him. “There won’t be any bullets, though. They’re actually from lasers, but if it’s not too much trouble, you could, uh, treat them?”
She rolls her eyes. Honestly, phrasing it like a question is pointless by this point. Peter already went into the future to save his ass, so patching him up would logically be the next step. “Peter, would you help Miguel get out of the top part of his costume?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
It turns out to be a problem. Miguel is having a hard time moving around the midsection and Peter isn’t quite sure how it all fits together. Thankfully, the long structures on his forearms appear to be for show, so he doesn’t have to wonder how to get the arm section free.
After the grueling process is over, Miguel is exhausted. He isn't quite sure what they're staring at until he notes he's covered in his own blood. Miguel would be all for them being cauterized by the lasers themselves, but all the swinging would make it pointless anyway. MJ patches up him while Peter helps him sit straight so she can see everything.
“They look like they’re already healing, but I’m going to give you a few antibiotics.” She shoots a look at Peter. “Even though I’m not a medical professional, I do know how to avoid infections.”
“MJ, you know we can’t go to the hospital.”
She laughs, smiling at both of them. “I know, Pete. I was just making it clear that I’m really not made for this.”
Miguel lets out a dry chuckle as she tapes a patch of gauze over the burns. “I appreciate it, really. I’d have probably figured something out for the laser burns, but in terms of -” Miguel cuts off with a grunt as MJ pokes at his side one last time. She winces, apologizing even as he tells her it’s okay. “In terms of hiding places, I think I’ve got it made.”
“Well, I doubt they’ll be looking for you close to eighty years in the past.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figure.”
Peter lets MJ finish up while he grabs some clothes for Miguel. They might be a little small comparatively, but it shouldn’t be too terrible.
Miguel looks up as Peter walks back in, taking the clothes with a confused look. “W-what are these for?”
“Well, I figure you can stick around until you’re recovered. That means you’ll need something to wear. I mean, if you didn’t want to leave the apartment, I suppose you could keep wearing your suit.”
“No, it’s fine.” He slips the shirt over his head. “That’s, uh.... Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now, I’m no doctor either, but I think if you don’t get some rest, Dr. MJ is going to knock us both into next week.” Peter leans to faux-whisper in Miguel’s ear. “I know she doesn’t look like much, but she could arm wrestle Godzilla.”
MJ playfully slaps Peter’s shoulder and he lets out an exaggerated yelp.
They leave Miguel alone for a few minutes so he can get changed. The struggle is ridiculous for someone as strong as he is. MJ calls out and asks him if he’s okay when he stumbles into the table, but he’s not about to ask for help to dress of all things, even if he is getting dizzy. Miguel rubs his forehead as he looks at the socks waiting to be put on. Begrudgingly, he has to sit down to do it. It’s hard to lean over, but he makes do. On the upside, clothes haven’t changed all that much in terms of make aside from the fact that they definitely can’t be holograms.
“You good in there, O’Hara?”
“I’m fine. I’m decent.” He leans back against the couch, slouching more than sitting. “I’m- ow... also in a good deal of pain.”
Peter comes in first, a bottle of something in his hand that Miguel doesn’t recognize. “I figured you might be, so I brought you some painkillers.” He gives Miguel six. “Here. MJ’s getting you some water to wash them down with and, trust me, you’ll want all of them.”
Miguel’s brow furrows, but he figures Peter wouldn’t try to poison him at this point.
MJ brings the water, Miguel taking it with one hand. His talons clink against the edge of it, far sharper and harder than they appear. Peter is curious, but not curious enough to ask right now.
Miguel groans as he swallows the pills. “Mmph. What time is it?”
“Almost five.”
The future Spiderman glances out the window, regretting the swinging motion almost instantly. “You know, usually, I’d be less inclined to sleep at any time before ten, but right now? I think I could use it.”
Peter shrugs. “I dunno. Some days, I’d be plenty happy to pass out at noon. Come on, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom. It’s not much, barely furnished, but I think it’ll be good for the amount of time you’ll be using it.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not.” MJ helps him off the couch. “Let’s put it this way. You saved my life in an elevator chase I don’t remember, so let me return the favor.”
Miguel makes a face as she leads him off, glancing back at Peter with confusion in his eyes. Still, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that MJ’s not taking no for an answer. He can’t say that he’s not glad, since he considers passing out after hitting the mattress.
Ever since quantum causality stopped working, he had kind of assumed Peter wouldn’t be able to help him unless it involved strategy or advice or something. Fortunately for him, it appears Peter is a lot more intuitive than he figured. Time travel was something he figured the other man hadn’t really grasped despite the lecture. After all, it’s really in conceptual stages even in 2099.
That said, he supposes everything worked out for the best. Even without paradoxes, Peter Parker managed to save his life. Apparently, even time barriers can’t stop him.
He’s not dead, and what more can he really ask for than that?