Chapter Text
Ned and MJ were just talking and laughing about random nonsense; perhaps the fact that Ned ordered flowers to the apartment, and the attendant brought up thirty bouquets instead of three.
“Ned you are such an idiot,” MJ was saying, pushing his arm playfully.
”Don’t I know it,” the man said, ducking his head. “Well, we have… a lot of flowers now. Ever wanted to own a greenhouse?”
”Not particularly.” There was a defeated but amused sigh. “We’re going to need more vases.” The girl stood up. She intended to rifle through the drawers for more pots to put the plants in, maybe find a decorated clay jug or something.
A pulse shuddered through the apartment.
Then her body froze like a damn statue.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe right. Her eyes were trained straight ahead, staring at Ned’s stuck form. They both stared at each other, unable to form coherent sounds.
Another pulse ripped through the space, and suddenly MJ’s brain was pounding against her skull. Memories buried deep within began to push up, scraping and clawing and screaming in her head. Memories of the Washington Monument, of a double-decker bus on the London Bridge, of opera glasses and a spider monkey and black flower. Tears were streaming down her face as she tried to stop them, to stop the howls that were shredding her perfect illustration of reality.
She couldn’t move, she couldn’t inhale as tears steadily dripped down her cheeks and off her chin.
Ned, meanwhile, was not having a crisis, although he was getting flashes of a magic yellow portal, of a ring and bread and red sentient cape. He wasn’t really focusing too hard on his memories, for he was more concerned that MJ was crying. He wanted to reach out and swipe the tears away, wanted to ask her why she was crying and comfort her. But he couldn’t get a word out.
It seemed like hours they were standing there. MJ’s legs shook from being rooted in a semi-standing position, hellish memories continuing to circle her brain. Finally, like a whip, the world unfroze. The memories fizzled out. MJ collapsed in relief, Ned barely catching her before she hit the floor.
”What the hell was that?” the girl whispered, gripping the cuffs of Ned’s shirt.
“I—I dunno,” he said, setting her gently on the couch. “Are you… are you okay?”
”I am now,” MJ replied, wincing as she rolled her head around. “I was getting flashes of—of someone. I can’t remember who now, though.”
”Well, just stay on the sofa and rest,” he said, then walked over to the window facing the fire escape. Ned peaked out, and saw hundreds of faces all peering out of their windows, from the streets and inside of cars. He looked over to an island off in a random body of water, trying to peace together what the hell happened. He glanced around, something tumbling in the back of his head. Maybe it was an earthquake. Ned shrugged and closed the fire escape. Or some mutant. He really didn’t care, unless it was Spider-Man.
Hours passed as he watched the spidey-tracker, frowning when there was no new recent sightings of the hero. He turned on the TV, then his heart stopped as he saw the flashing banner across the top.
SPIDER-MAN GRAVELY HURT AND IN CRITICAL CONDITION.
Ned froze, feeling sick. He had met Spider-man hardly any time ago. He had built legos in their living room. The dude seemed pretty solid. Which only made the situation worse.
°°°
Dr. Strange was eating a sandwich. Better superheroes might say they were fighting evil or saving children from burning buildings.
But the doctor had just finished stitching together a multiverse war, three universes over, and all he wanted was a New York sub and peace of mind. Damn anyone who would tell him different.
He was completely in the blast range when Jean Grey mind-grabbed everyone, sandwich frozen halfway to his mouth. He too began to get memories, although they were slightly different.
He had memories of promising someone… something.
A spell. Yes, that was it.
He had promised to cast them a spell, but he couldn’t remember what. Then he was floating above the new Statue of Liberty with no recollection of how he got there.
Dr. Strange was a powerful human. The pulse didn’t rouse or scare him; it simply felt like the seconds slowed down, giving him time to think. He certainly could have broken free from the trap, if it hadn’t been so nice to stop and try to piece it together.
Piece together the thing that had been vexing him for four years.
Why certain aspects of life didn’t match up, how he got to the Statue of Liberty in the first place, why there was this nagging, off-putting feeling when people called him sir.
Then the pulse stopped and he could finish his sandwich. Everyone around him started frantically yelling and demanding answers, but Stephen wasn’t fazed. He kept eating and pondering, the mind-possessing unlocking something that had previously been buried.
Amongst his rumpled memories and thoughts were two kids. The two kids who had also been on the Statue of Liberty, who—like him—didn’t know how they had gotten there.
°°°
Peter Parker was dying. That’s what he thought.
What he hoped, since he had no one left here to keep fighting for. No one knew who he was. He was alone.
Spider-Man was lying on the floor as blood seeped through, Jean staring at him with a devastated look.
He thought she said something, maybe words of encouragement or commands he couldn’t fulfill.
Then she was inside his mind, keeping him breathing, keeping him rooted to the earth.
°°°
Steve Rogers has a secret. A deadly, powerful one.
When he went to return the time stone, the Ancient One wouldn’t take it. She told him it wasn’t time. So Steve carried it around in his pocket like a damn good-luck charm. At first, he didn’t do anything with it. Just stared at the glowing rock and kept it safe.
Then, slowly, he began to use it.
Now, he would occasionally jump back into the present. Not to say hello or jump-scare Sam or Thor (though that did sound appealing). Just to check up on everything, watch from a distance, maybe get a sandwich from his favorite bodega.
He woke up as he always did, kissing Peggy and eating breakfast. After which, he told her he’d be back by dinner, and set off to work.
In actuality, he used the time stone to jump into the present, or, the future for him. He breathed in the familiar smells of the modern city, marveling at the architectural deigns of the twenty-first century.
Maybe he’d take Peggy here someday, just the two of them. For now, he had a date with a sandwich. Steve had just reached the corner of where the shop was located when he froze in place. Like, muscles constricted, limps splayed out in front, stopped-dead-in-his-tracks frozen.
Steve’s heart jumped into his throat, thinking he had messed up the time stone and got himself stuck in some sort of purgatory. He was trapped like this for a while, stuck with his own thoughts.
Finally, the world shifted around him, and everything went back to normal. His legs unfrozen, lips unstuck, breathing returning to normal.
“What the shit?” a New-Yorker exclaimed from behind him.
Steve sighed. Not my fault, he thought cheerfully. It wasn’t just me, the whole world hiccuped. Then he walked with a bit of pep the rest of the way to the sandwich shop.
When Steve reached it, he was so blinded by the smell that he didn’t notice the man coming out. Their shoulders knocked harshly, and Steve sent the guy to the ground.
“Oh crap, I am so sorry,” Steve said, offering the man a hand. “I didn’t see you there.”
The man who took his hand was none other than Doctor Strange, sporting casual wear and a take-out bag in his non-dominant hand.
For a beat, the pair stared at each other.
“Well, have a nice day!” Steve said, a little rushed as he moved to enter the shop.
“Captain, we both know you recognize me,” came Strange’s drawing tone. Steve didn’t turn around, walking up to the front and ordering the number two. He fumbled for five bucks, grateful he kept a stash of modern money when he traveled back and fourth in time.
Steve sat down with his food, trying not to look at the doctor, who was still in the doorway. Finally, with a defeated sigh, he gestured for him to come sit down.
Stephen took the seat graciously, arms crossed, waiting for Steve to explain himself. Rogers gave no response, quietly scarfing down his sandwich.
“Why are you here?” asked Strange at last.
“I come into the future sometimes,” Cap said honestly. “Mostly for this sandwich shop.”
”Best subs in all of New York,” the doctor echoed. Remembering himself, he added, “how did you get here?”
Steve shrugged and didn’t respond, the time stone heavy in his pocket. Desperate for the subject change, he asked;
“How is everyone?”
”Good,” Stephen said politely.
”Sam? He’s doing alright?”
Dr. Strange nodded curtly, lost in thought.
”And the kid? How is he?”
This question was met with a blank stare.
“What kid?”
Steve hesitated, feeling dumb. What does he mean, what kid… the kid who fought Thanos with everyone? The AVENGER?
”Peter,” Steve said slowly, “… Peter Parker?”
”Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” Stephen asked, drumming his hands against the counter.
“Tony’s kid…?” Rogers responded in an alarmed tone. “Are you—are you pulling my leg, doc?”
Stephen just peered quizzically.
Then he groaned and grabbed his head, gripping it tightly.
“Peter… why does that sound so familiar?” the doctor muttered, mostly to himself.
“Because he fought with us. He helped up defeat Thanos,” Steve said, officially spooked. Maybe he had messed up the time stone. “You know… Spider-man?”
°°°
Dr. Strange’s entire brain was folding in on itself. The magic that had been forcing something down in the back of his mind was fraying, stirred up because of the pulse earlier. The mind-grab had snapped something loose, worn away at a spell that had held strong for four years.
A memory surfaced then; one of him dangling over the Grand Canyon for twelve hours, of a boy who begged the doctor to erase everyone’s minds to protect his friends.
“Peter Parker,” Dr. Strange whispered at last. “Holy fuck.”