Chapter Text
This fight is for May.
It’s the commanding thought in Peter’s mind as he swings around the Statue of Liberty, even as he keeps stock of the battle raging around him. Every muscle in his body aches and burns but he can’t stop. He never thought anything would be bigger to him than fighting Thanos, for the sake of the universe. But now, the Goblin’s mad cackle echoes in his ears as he throws his body into the next swing, slicing through the clouds of dust that are hanging in the air from the impact of the fallen shield. Osborn’s hoverboard has been hit, smoke billowing out of one side, but he still stays on board. He swoops to the left, out of Peter’s sight.
Peter follows it.
He’d watched Ben step in front of a gun before he could; had watched Tony snap his fingers when Peter had held the gauntlet in his hands moments before, Peter was enhanced, he might’ve survived—
Peter lands in a crouch, searching for the monster that ripped May away from him. He can’t do anything about Tony, not now that Thanos is dead, and he hadn’t been willing to act against the man who had taken Ben’s life, but May…
May would never have stood against the Goblin with nothing more than a piece of rebar if Peter hadn’t messed up the spell by asking for too much—Spider-Man and Peter Parker both, too late realizing that perhaps he can never have one while he’s trying to hold on to the other. He had wanted a life, with his friends by his side, happy and safe. He had wanted to live up to Tony’s legacy, to the trust he’d placed on Peter’s shoulders. He’d wanted to help people, to make May proud.
Now, all he wants is to feel his fists against the Goblin’s face, to feel the life drain out of him the way he’d felt May grow still in his arms.
He clocks Peter-Two swinging in from the left, but he can’t see where Peter-Three is. Most of their former villains are cured—saved, just as May had wanted. Peter allows himself a moment to revel in the strength of having allies. Strange is preparing the spell to send those who don’t belong home; Ned and MJ are here, by his side, refusing to let Peter face this alone. He could never have asked for better friends from any world in all the multiverse.
And then there are the two other versions of him, Two fighting as hard as Peter is, even though Peter still can’t get eyes on Three. As perfect and loyal as MJ and Ned are, Peter savors the thrill of fighting alongside people he is so in sync with. Fighting alongside the Avengers, Peter had always felt like he was contributing to something larger than himself—an assist, throwing webs to restrain or pulling those needing help out of danger. This is different. This is his fight—it’s all of their fight—and the camaraderie is electric. Even in the midst of battle, Peter can’t help but wonder if this is how the original six had felt when they had first assembled in New York.
There’s the approaching whir of a hoverboard—Osborn's close. Peter pushes past his exhaustion to swing toward the noise, searching desperately. Ned and MJ have already almost died in this fight. He has to stop Osborn before they become his victims too. Peter can’t lose anyone else tonight, not because of his mistakes, he’s not sure he’ll survive if—
“Oh, Spider-Man! Are you looking for something?”
Dusty air catches in his throat as the hoverboard finally comes into view. Peter prepares to throw a web to pull Osborn closer so he can attack, only to freeze when he sees their last remaining enemy isn’t alone.
“Oh, Peter. I’m so glad you’re still around to see this.” Osborn's—no, the Goblin’s— eerie grin splits his face open, eyes solely on Peter as he presses a knife firmly against Peter-Three’s throat.
Three’s eyes are wide and desperate as they lock onto Peter. He’s kneeling on the front of the Goblin’s hoverboard, blood trickling from a wound above his eyebrow as the Goblin’s free hand yanks his hair to expose more of his neck.
“Keep fighting!” Three yells, even as the blade presses harder against his skin. “Don’t give up, not for me!”
Peter’s fingers twitch to release a web, to move, to do something, but he’s not seeing any options that won’t get Three killed the moment Peter moves.
“Of course, I will kill all three of you tonight,” the Goblin goes on, clearly enjoying Peter’s frozen panic. “But not all at once. Having an audience is always so much more fun.” He flexes his hand and a bead of blood drips down Three’s throat.
Peter launches forward, no thought in his mind except putting himself between Three and the weapon, only for a strong pair of arms to encompass him, holding him back. “Woah, woah, Pete,” Two’s voice murmurs in his ear. “Hold on, we can’t risk Three.”
The Goblin laughs, toothy and loud, making Three flinch. “Ah, it’s my Peter coming to the rescue now, is it?” He tugs Three closer to him, almost in an embrace. “Come on then, Parker. Come and get him. See what happens.”
Three makes a sudden attempt at escape, but it’s hopeless. All he achieves is being wrapped tighter in the Goblin’s arms. “Just fight him! Don’t worry about me!”
Two pushes Peter behind him and steps out in front, determined. “Come on Norman, this isn’t you. You were like a father to me. Deep down, you’re a good man, I know it, you just have to fight.”
But it’s the Green Goblin looking back at them, not the confused old man that had walked into FEAST. This isn’t the Norman Osborn who had May convinced that he deserves to be saved. Peter clenches his jaw, the pain splintering through his cheeks. He’s back in the position he’s been thrown into far too many times—seeing someone he cares about in trouble, and unable to do a thing to help.
“You don’t know anything about—” the Goblin starts, only for a metal claw to appear on his left.
Peter’s heart leaps into his throat as he sees Octavius leaning out from the remaining scaffolding, appendages trying to grab Three out of the Goblin’s grasp. But Osborn easily swings the glider away, slicing through one of the robot arms before blasting Octavius into the sea.
Peter stumbles forward as his hands curl into fists, nails cutting into his skin. “You bastard.”
He webs himself up higher on the scaffolding, eyes darting around as he looks for Otto. A second later he bobs up, remaining arms keeping him afloat as he gasps in a breath. Still in trouble, but not dying. That’s going to have to be enough as they focus on Three.
“Oh, baby Parker,” the Goblin is taunting him. “So much hate, but what are you doing with it? Swallowing it down, letting it fester inside you until it drains every semblance of strength. I wonder—do you hate me enough to keep this interesting? Or do you need more motivation?”
The knife splits open Three’s neck. Peter starts forward with a cry, only to freeze as he sees that the wound isn’t fatal. The Goblin smirks at him as he finally lets go of Three’s hair to dig in his suit, brandishing two pumpkin bombs. Peter braces himself, ready to catch them, only for the bombs to be thrown away from him and Two.
“If I were you, I’d worry less about your new friends and more about your old ones.” The Goblin’s grin is beyond gleeful as Peter hears twin cries of alarm from the scaffolding below. MJ. Ned.
“Feast your eyes on this,” the Goblin shouts above the unmistakable sound of both bombs detonating. Peter’s already moving, trying to get both MJ and Ned in view. They’re on opposite ends of the scaffolding, looking below them in confusion. Neither of them is harmed and, for a moment, it seems like the bombs missed the mark.
Peter manages one stuttering breath of relief before the scaffolding beneath them collapses, and then both MJ and Ned are falling.
Peter swings toward them as fast and as hard as he can, but he won’t save them both. The realization is electricity through his veins, his body refusing to pick a direction until he sees a flash of red and blue heading toward Ned. Peter throws himself down and sideways, hurtling faster and faster. For a horrifying moment, he’s back in Beck’s illusion, hearing MJ scream as Beck drops her from the top of the Eiffel Tower. But this isn’t an illusion, it’s real, and a sob leaves his lungs as his arms lock around MJ’s body, stopping their descent barely a few feet from the ground.
“Oh my god, MJ, are you okay?” Peter drops the rest of the way to the ground, placing MJ down as carefully as he can. He pats down her body before he takes her ashen face in his hands, searching it for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Peter, I’m fine. Just, Christ.” She takes half a step away from him, and even that tiny distance causes his heart to pound faster. “Is this a multiverse thing, falling girlfriends? I’m not going up even a set of stairs for the foreseeable future, Parker.”
The relief is like a balm and he pushes his lips onto hers with such force that she lets out a muffled gasp before responding. “Thank god. I couldn’t bear it if… if someone else… I’m going to kill—”
“Peter?” Two’s voice interrupts them, Peter grabbing MJ’s hand and pulling her towards it. Ned. Oh god, Ned… if he was…
“—that was like so incredible, do you think that your natural webs are as strong as the synthetic ones because Peter’s are super strong but you just carried me and you and so they must be super oof—”
Peter tackles Ned from behind, the relief stealing his words. Ned pats his arm, his breath as fast as Peter’s. “That was terrifying. Awesome, but terrifying.”
Two is watching them, his jaw tight. Peter untangles himself from Ned, but keeps one hand on his wrist as he takes MJ’s hand with the other, drawing comfort from both their pulses. “Thank you,” he tells Two. “Just, thank you. If they’d— I don’t know what I would’ve done, I couldn’t… I couldn’t have made that choice.”
Two’s gaze lingers on where Peter is holding Ned’s wrist, a combination of grief, relief, and something else Peter can’t identify on his face. Hope, maybe. “I lost my… my Ned, because of the Goblin. I wasn’t going to let that happen to you.”
Peter takes one more moment to revel in his hold on MJ and Ned before the relief is gone. Not everyone is rescued, not yet. “Three. Where is he?”
Two looks into the empty skies, grim. “Gone. The Goblin took him. To make us follow him, no doubt.”
“Make you follow him?” Ned repeats, confused. “How? Not like he left a forwarding address.”
Peter forces his brain into gear, trying to think past the blood on Three’s throat and the look of resignation on his face as he’d told the others not to worry about him. “Feast your eyes on this,” Peter mutters, then swivels around to Ned. “You can still open portals, right?”
Ned raises his hand, his fingers trembling as the magic sparks and then fades. "Um, hold on. I got it."
He tries again, sweat beading on his brow, but Two gently catches his wrists. "Looks like you need a breather, Ned. Take a moment." He turns to Peter. "What are you thinking?"
Peter takes in the older version of himself, the sight comforting enough for him to gather his resolve. “Feast your eyes on this, Osborn said. I think he’s gone back to the shelter. The first place that we met.” Peter grits his teeth, finally letting go of MJ he feels his hands clench. “And the place where he first met May. He’s taking Three there, that must have been what he meant.”
There’s a groan from the bay—Octavius, finally able to clamber out of the water, shivering violently. Two starts forward, torn. “I know we have to go after Three, but we can’t just leave them here.”
“You two go,” MJ says. Despite having nearly fallen to her death twice today, her voice is nothing but steely resolve. “We can help everyone you’ve just cured, make sure they’re okay. When you need to return, Ned can open a portal so that you can come back.” She adds weight to the last two words, and Peter nods.
“We’ll come back,” he assures her. “All three of us.”
MJ searches his face, before leaning forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know you will. Just come back you, Peter. I know you got out of making this choice. Doesn’t mean you’ll get out of making the next one.”
“I… I’ll come back.” Peter turns to Two, web-shooters at the ready, already batting away Ned's protests. “Rest, Ned, it's okay. We'll need you at full strength to get us back. The FEAST building isn't far from here if we swing.”
Two considers him, wary. “You know this is a trap, right? Three is bait. We’re going to have to be smart about this.”
The memory of the full weight of a warehouse landing on him is vivid enough to send a chill down his spine. Peter is keenly aware of traps. But there’s no other choice, or at least not one Peter is willing to make.
“I don’t care,” Peter decides. “We’re saving Three. No one else dies tonight.” Well, he thinks as he readies his web-shooters, remembering the Goblin’s leer as he had faced down May, threatened Three, sent MJ and Ned plummeting. One person will.