Chapter Text
Darkness, that’s all Peter could remember. His head throbbed and his body ached. It was as if someone smacked a pan over his head, repeatedly. Everything was too much and his spider-sense was going haywire. The air smelled different, that was the first thing he noticed. It smelled of gasoline and sulfur. Each breath felt like he was coating his lungs with poison. He leaned over and began to heave trying to regulate his breathing pattern but it all was too much. Nothing connected it was as if his body was rejecting New York.
But this wasn’t home.
Home was Queens it smelled of ash, street vendors, and food markets. Of course, this wasn’t what the average person smelled, but it was what Peter selected from the air. He knew the New York air. When he first gained his powers it was like he could finally breathe for the first time his asthma stopping and muscles forming allowing him to run, for the first time he felt like the world stopped crushing him. Now he was hacking in Not New York with a weak body and senses betraying him.
His cough isn’t letting up, he opens his eyes. The sky lacks its blue hue a dark overcast of grey floods his eyesight as he attempts to stand. His arms open trying to gain his balance but he is grasping at stabilizers that aren’t there. He falls, sitting on the cold concrete he looks out to see old architecture, cement buildings with details of goyles and boarded windows. Vastly different from the New York he knows with bright buildings and windows covering every side that glimmer in the light. This is not his home.
At first, he thinks, he’s gone back in time, this is an old New York if he had to guess maybe somewhere in the 1800s then he glances around the building he is atop and sees an AC fan, not the 1800s then. A foolish thought. But with a pounding head and senses yelling hundreds of different things at him he really can’t be blamed. He attempts to stand once more this time finding success and walks towards the ledge. He toes the edge and thinks to jump, he has his web-shooters on, but no spidey suit. But he is wearing a hoodie, pulling it up he cinches the strings, and right as he is about to let his body begin the descent with one foot off the ledge,
“Stop!” Gotcha. His acknowledgment of the hidden presence silences a few of the spider alarms screaming in his head, but not enough to give him a clear head space. He knew something was among him, but he was unsure of what.
A man emerges from his hiding spot behind funnily enough the AC fan, how did he miss that? His outfit was surprising, to say the least. He reminded Peter of a cheetah, the bright yellow armor? He wasn’t sure if that was the right term, the material seemed sturdy, and from the ramrod posture of the person it could be assumed the armor must’ve restricted at least some movement.
Peter had a few ways to play this, the ball was in his court. He could go with his original plan to jump and reveal his power, he could jump and play a disappearing act or he could play the act of the sad man who simply has nothing left to lose. He chooses the last.
Slowly he steps from the ledge and tries to muster up a few tears, of course, he looked more pitiful at sixteen than twenty-six but at least it would be believable. Spider-man has had his encounters with suicide jumpers, they all had this look, it was like he had a power he could tell who was going to jump. So many people would make the climb to whatever ledge yet so many just wanted someone, anyone, to listen. He needed to replicate the look of someone who wasn’t actually going to jump.
He nears the hero? Not sure of his role in this world. He looks young, too young. His yellow cowl covers his eyes but hides none of the baby fat in his cheeks. This gives Peter another realization shit this kid thinks I’m actually going to jump. The Cheetah Boy is tense his legs slightly bent, a running position. Peter can’t do this to a kid. Slowly he backs from the ledge far enough until he is about twenty feet from the ledge. He sits and uncovers and loosens the tightened hoodie.
He knows he doesn't look harmless, but he watches as the teen’s shoulders drop and knees straighten. “Kid, what the hell are you doing up here?”
Kid? The hell. Peter knows he looks young but no one has called him that since Aunt May died. MJ always called it his spark out, it was like something went out in him and was replaced with a fire that burned him always chasing and he was always running to escape the heat.
“What are you doing up here?” It’s a petty question but Peter’s usual wit seems to have gotten stuck at the back of his throat. He has no idea who this person is, Peter is hungry and in pain and not suicidal.
“I, look kid-” The hero looks uncomfortable, his lips forming a tight line unsure of how to proceed. He’s shaking his head his eyes flickering between Peter and the ledge.
“Peter.” He interrupts. This may be one of his only chances of getting this close to this person he sure as hell is making it count if he can get some sort of trust or even better information.
“Peter, were you going to jump?” His voice sounds heartbroken, slightly quivering even.
“No.” His voice cracks. “I just needed to think it’s so loud down there, up here it’s peaceful.” Of course while not be entirely a lie, not the truth either. His statement was true but for his New York. The heights made him feel at ease, he could just sit and no one, besides all of his friends, could bother him.
“I, I get that. But that doesn’t explain why your foot was leaving the ledge.” The hero looks distraught, he keeps turning his head leaning into his right side, a comm then. The slight whispers make it obvious enough. In a better situation, Peter could catch every world holding onto for his advantage. But the pounding has yet to cease and Peter’s brain fog is simply too thick to try anything. Remaining on the building was probably one of his better decisions, if he was in New York it would be instinct he wouldn’t even look to where he was swinging to he knew New York like the back of his hand. But here, with this migraine, Peter would've smacked into a building or splattered on the pavement.
Peter stares at the hero, his voice getting louder to whoever is on the other line with him. “I don’t want to leave you please believe me, the world holds so much I know Gotham is, it can feel like hell but there is so much please just keep going I won’t say things get easier, but find people. I’m sure you already have people who love you please climb down from here safely Peter.” The Hero left him with a grimace then shot a grappling hook running off the roof to wherever he was needed.
Peter stood on that roof and decided that maybe a few hours of rest up here wouldn’t be the worst thing. He lay on the cold damp pavement and waited for sleep to envelop his body taking his aching head into a deep sleep.
—
Gotham was sad, Peter saw how people walked with their heads down and hands to themselves. No friendly waves or kindness, a woman was struggling with her children when Peter offered a hand she cursed him using quite colorful language and stormed off. Peter missed New York, he missed Johnny. He’d gotten comfortable.
Peter tried calling Johnny on a pay phone, a long shot considering Johnny never answers unknown numbers but it was worth a shot. Fifty dollars was all he had on him luckily when he arrived in this dreary city his wallet remained in his pocket. And money was the same small victories.
After May’s death, New York became cold. It lacked the love that Peter once felt but it wasn’t the people it was him. In this place, everyone felt cold, no trust or kindness lingered. The air is toxic and so are the people. It is all poison. A cycle trapping anyone and everyone that dares to enter this flawed city’s claws. Without his Spidey-sense Peter was almost mugged five times. These people weren't bad, they were stuck in a system that left them poor and desperate enough to steal. Everyone was determined to watch their own back, everyone was enemies.
Peter walked for miles, this landscape was different, while he could’ve been using his time more wisely like researching this city the idea of staring at a bright blue screen already made his head hurt. The more he walked the worse the neighborhoods got with abandoned buildings and overgrown greenery. He knew that was where he’d find shelter.
He scanned multiple buildings trying to find an empty one or one that he was sure wouldn’t collapse on him in his sleep. Peter settled on an empty old clinic, ‘Wayne Enterprise’ it read in faded letters. The place was so ransacked he was sure, or at the very least hoped no one would enter.
Posters lay on the floor encouraging seeking out free treatment all funded by the man Bruce Wayne. Broken glass, office supplies, and papers were everywhere, everything of value stripped evidence of axes and missing bolts proved nothing stopped these people from taking everything. This clinic didn’t seem abandoned in the sense that everyone ran in an emergency but rather people stopped showing up and one day the doors looked and they were going to stay that way.
That was of course until the next person broke into the clinic and the stealing began. This place gave Peter the creeps. He wanted to go home, to his mildewy apartment that he refused to let go of despite Johnny’s insistence. Peter missed the flickering lights and the awful heat(which he never used considering his boyfriend was a furnace). He even missed the old lady across the hall who would shake her head at him every time she saw him but for some reason adored Johnny, might have to do with the fact she knows he saved the world multiple times.
If Peter had Johnny he thinks he’d be ok. Johnny is rash; he'd try to find all the solutions faster than possible, driving himself insane, if Johnny were here Peter could keep it together because there would be someone he was being strong for, but it was just him. He was alone in an empty ransacked clinic, the only company being the rats that had taken refuge in the building.
Johnny probably isn’t worried. Peter gives it two days before a message is written in fire in the sky waiting for the response of eyes that won’t see it.
His silence hopefully will make Johnny go to the Fantastic Four and Reed will figure something out, as he always does. But for now, Peter looks around his depressing new home and decides he will figure it all out tomorrow. His hunger persisted but, he was too exhausted to care. A wave of exhaustion seeped into his bones similar to how he felt after a long and hard battle with Rhino.
After walking through the whole clinic Peter deemed an old patient room on the second floor to be the best place to hole up for the night. With no windows, there was only one entry point that he could shut with web fluid so he made the shot and curled up onto the hard plastic exam table in the corner.
—
When Peter gains consciousness once more it must’ve been at least seven hours that he could tell from the web fluid decay on the door. While he isn’t well rested he’s functioned on less. He listens to ensure no one else is in the clinic before he begins his walk to the back of the clinic to leave. He walks through the hallways before catching a glimpse of his reflection.
“Huh.” Peter stares at himself in the broken window glass and sees a boy. A young boy, his hair retaining soft curls that went away after he graduated college. Freckles were plastered across the bridge of his nose and his clothing once were nice fitting loose jeans and a slightly oversized hoodie that looked so oversized as if they weren’t even his anymore.
He was a teenager again.
This was bad, so incredibly insurmountably bad. He was short, at least losing five inches and he looked like a stray.
Peter had to at least have aged back to sixteen maybe even younger. But if it weren’t for how he looked he felt amazing. The lack of sleep wasn’t dragging on him like it normally would’ve and his back felt amazing. But now he desperately needed to figure out what the hell was going on.
A vantage point was the first part that he needed. Exiting through a window of the clinic he found a fire escape. This was not a tall building only ranging two stories but it would be a start from there he would vault for more buildings until he gained the height he needed.
He ran for what he expected of a mile, until reaching a Wayne Enterprise building that towered over the others, he sat and watched the moon in its final stage before the sun emerged. The night was biting but nothing he couldn’t endure, he watched the stars, even some of the constellations were different here.
Here is what he knew so far, he was in a city named Gotham with a powerful man by the name of Bruce Wayne, they had heroes(or vigilantes), and he was no longer an adult. So far his leading theories were that he was pushed back in time or an alternate reality. He hoped in an alternative reality he really didn’t need to be in a world with two Peter Parker’s.
Sitting on the roof he watched the sun rise in silence only the muddled sounds of the city reaching him. He kicks his feet on the ledge, this isn’t a lot but it’s a start. A start to getting home.
Daytime Gotham Report
Today was quiet and boring. Stopped some muggings and robberies these people are getting bolder each time. I started following a kid, no older than sixteen said his name was Peter. He almost got mugged about three times and each time he escaped perfectly fine before they could even approach him. At first, I thought this kid was a local then he tried to help someone so crossed that idea off. Kept patrolling then saw him again on the ledge of a building about to jump, stopped him just in time. Had to leave him on the roof because of a fire on the West side.
Gonna try to look for him tomorrow, keep an eye on him if you cross paths. He’s about 5’6 with hazel eyes and brown hair, white. Last wearing baggy blue jeans with a black oversized hoodie
-Signal