Chapter Text
“Hey, Frank, catch!”
Anyone would be scared shitless if they fell off a ten-story building, especially when you've got a bunch of maniac robots falling right along with you. Peter barely managed to toss Frank his weapon back before one of those robots shoved him over the edge. As he fell, he heard his partner's—now friend's—yells, but he was too busy trying not to get a laser through the stomach to pay much attention.
It was early morning, and the battle had started at dusk the day before yesterday. Even with his enhanced spider-DNA and his resilient nature, Peter was reaching a limit of exhaustion that numbed his muscles and made him long for a solid twelve hours of sleep. Ever since Dr. Doom showed up claiming that the Avengers, the old ones, had made a mess by jumping between universes to collect the Infinity Stones and fix the mistakes of another reality, things had only gotten worse.
Honestly, Peter understood where the complaint was coming from, but it felt a little awkward to have an opinion on it when he was alive precisely because of that apparent crime. This, along with the fact that Steve Rogers had stayed behind to live his dream life in a different universe, with a version of himself buried in the ice, certainly made things more complicated. All Peter could do was keep fighting the maniac robots while trying not to pass out from exhaustion in the process.
“Oh, shit!” He shot a web and swung himself to stick to the building, catching his breath for a few seconds before starting to climb back up to rejoin Frank on the top floor. “Frank!”
“How do you let them throw you off a building like that? Are you stupid?”
“Thanks for caring, and you're welcome for saving your ass, I was trying not to die!” He yanked his mask off in one pull and took a huge gulp of air, which only made him cough up blood. He could see Frank's brows furrow, but Peter waved a hand at him to brush it off. “My God, those robots are something.”
“Tough to kill,” Frank said, gripping his weapon to reload and glancing around the floor, now clear of robots. “This is gonna be a long one, kid. You should rest.”
“No, no…” He clenched the mask in his hand before pulling it back over his face. “We can't.”
As if on cue from the heavens, the building shook with a loud rumble. Peter focused on his spider-sense and managed to feel a faint tingle at the back of his neck—it was subtle, but hard to ignore.
“Something's coming,” he said.
From the massive hole he'd fallen through moments earlier, he had a full view of all of Manhattan. The robots' lasers stood out among the streets, as did the relentless fights of the Fantastic Four and the New Avengers in the distance, along with Sam Wilson and his squad, Captain Marvel, Doctor Strange, and all the heroes (and some not-so-heroic ones, but good-hearted nonetheless) who were giving everything they had to protect their reality.
“We need to get closer,” Peter said as he walked to the edge, crouching low as he prepared to jump. “Need a hand? I mean, if you want me to carry you.”
“Go fly a kite, Spider. I'm staying here.” With that, he pulled out a case and set it on the ground. Opening it, he revealed a sniper rifle and began assembling it.
“Whatever, but be careful, and if you run into Dr. Doom, don't kill him!”
“Just get the fuck out of here.”
Peter smiled a little at the familiar bickering; it felt good after spending over 24 hours fighting without a decent rest. He cracked his neck a bit to try and relieve the tension in his shoulders and hesitated for a moment before jumping. He chose to trust his friend and his ability to stay safe.
Then he shot his web, his spider-sense screamed, and the explosion happened.
It was very fast. The moment he was in the air, he didn't even need to swing anymore because the blast pushed him backward. He felt his breath get knocked out of him, his legs and arms burning from the heat. When he turned mid-fall, he watched the entire building collapse in intense flames.
“Frank!” he yelled, shooting a web toward the fire in a desperate attempt to get back to his friend. The attempt was useless and caught nothing, so he fell while his mind tried to process what had just happened. Exhaustion chose the worst possible moment to cash in its debt, because when the chunks of the building came toward him, Peter wasn't fast enough to escape with his web. He barely managed to take a gulp of air before his senses drowned out and everything went black.
(...)
The darkness didn't disappear, not even when Peter woke up. He took a big gulp of air while feeling sweat trickle down his forehead, swallowed, and tried to move his body. He thought it would be difficult due to the concrete chunks on top of him, but instead, he felt like he had full range of motion to wave his limbs around without any issue. He also had no trouble breathing, and the air wasn't suffocating, or hot, or carrying that metallic taste he was already sick of.
“What the hell?” He sat up on the ground and touched his chest, only to feel fabric wrinkles instead of his Spider-Man suit—or so it seemed. Had they been burned so badly that they ended up with this completely different texture? But Peter could swear he felt several layers of clothing. “Oh man, how deep did I fall?”
He couldn't even hear the sounds of battle anymore, not a single one. If the smells had also disappeared, he must have gotten pretty far from the surface. As he got to his feet, he couldn't help but notice how much lighter his muscles felt than they had in years. He took a step, then another, until his foot hit something heavy and hard. His first instinct was to kick it.
“Fuck!” Frank groaned.
“Frank?” Relief filled Peter immediately. He knelt down on the ground and located his friend right away. His senses seemed to clear up, because now he was able to hear everything around him, which didn't include much more than Frank's breathing and heartbeat.
“Shit, you kicked me, idiot.”
“Sorry, dude, I couldn't take any risks, had to check.”
“What the hell happened?”
Peter heard Frank sit up on the ground, unable to see him but perfectly aware of where he was.
“The building exploded,” Peter said. “Completely. I was so tired I couldn't even escape when the debris fell on me.”
“Wait, it exploded? Uh, that explains a lot, except for where the hell we are. Did we fall really deep? What a pain in the ass.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” He heard Frank get to his feet, so Peter did the same. As he listened to him breathe, he noticed some inconsistency in where the breathing was coming from—it felt a little... tall, but Peter decided to let it slide. “But now that I'm paying attention, I think I can hear birds nearby. Which is really weird because the birds fled when those stupid maniac robots showed up. I think I could shoot a web and see if…”
“Why does your voice sound so weird?” Frank interrupted with obvious annoyance.
Peter felt a flicker of irritation form in his chest and let out a loud sigh.
“As I was saying…”
“Hey, I don't have my weapons.” Frank said.
That piqued Peter's curiosity.
“What? What do you mean you don't have your weapons?”
“I don't have a single one.” He must have been frantically patting his hips and back, judging by the sounds he was making. After a few seconds, he stopped. “Son of a bitch, someone must have taken them.”
“Okay, how about we first find a way out of here, or at least find some light? I've got good hearing, but I need to see.”
“Sounds good. That voice of yours is driving me nuts.”
“Don't be such a jerk, Frank. We don't know how much longer we'll be stuck here.”
“Whatever, kid. Shoot your web and let's get out of here.”
Although Frank's attitude irritated him, Peter decided to listen because something about the whole situation made him very uneasy. He shot a web upward, and it didn't take long to stick to what Peter assumed was the ceiling. He immediately pulled hard and stumbled back a few steps when he brought a chunk of that ceiling down with him. He watched the metal sheet fall with a deafening crash, very uncomfortable for his sharp hearing, as the hole in the ceiling let light pour in.
“It's the…”
“The sky,” Frank finished.
A bright blue sky could be seen through the small opening left by the sheet. It had white clouds and birds flying past with little chirps. It was pure harmony, so far removed from what Peter had lived through in the last 24 hours.
“Why is it daytime?” Peter said. “How long have we been down here?”
“Long enough for Doom to have gone the fuck out if those birds are singing good morning again. Come on, shoot another web, I need to get out of here and see what the hell happened.”
Again, Peter obeyed only because he shared the sentiment. He shot another web and made sure it was securely attached before pulling himself up. Once he was out and on top of the ceiling, he decided to help Frank up before taking in the view. Once they were both standing on the metal sheets with the intense sun on their faces, Peter looked around. There was no trace of destruction, just a vast blue sky and tall, green, healthy-looking trees. The closest thing was a road, where a few cars passed by completely normally.
“Holy fudge,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows. “Well, a few good hours must have passed, but how did we get here?”
“Holy fuck.”
“Yeah, this is crazy. We should look for help. Maybe I could call the New Avengers or…”
But when he turned to Frank, he realized the man wasn't looking at the landscape, but at Peter. Eyebrows raised, mouth open, even a bit pale.
“What the hell happened to your face?” Frank said.
“Dude, you're being really rude today. What is wrong with you?”
“You look like a baby.”
“What?” Immediately, he brought his hands to his face and noticed something different, but he couldn't tell what it was. Then he looked at his hands, free of the suit, and finally glanced at what he was wearing. He almost fell over from the shock when he realized he was wearing his gray jacket, with the blue sweater and the plaid shirt he used to love wearing to Midtown years ago. “W-What? Where's my suit?”
“Who cares about that, you look like a twelve-year-old!”
Peter felt his heart pounding hard against his chest as he knelt down to pick up a piece of glass on the ground. He moved it around a bit to see his reflection, and when he did, his throat went dry. It was him, but younger, a teenager, with his messy curls, his acne marks, and his stupid baby face. He looked exactly like he did when he was fifteen.
“Holy fuck!” he said, dropping the glass, which shattered into pieces before Peter stood up. “My face!”
“You must have hit your head really hard with those concrete chunks, because this is way too messed up…”
“Fifteen years old!” He rubbed his face with his hands and frantically touched his chest and legs, trying to understand what the hell happened to bring him back to that body, in those clothes. It was so weird and creepy that he felt a shiver run through his entire body. “This can't be happening.”
“I can't believe you looked twelve at fifteen, and so nerdy. I can practically smell the bullies behind you from here.”
Peter stopped his frantic behavior to look at Frank and frown at him. “That's such a horrible thing to say, and why are you so calm? Do you understand I just went back seven years in my body? I'm a teenager again, a teenager.”
“The initial shock just wore off. Now I'm wondering why everything looks so peaceful and with no trace of battle when those maniac robots were everywhere. Maybe we should call someone. Do you have a phone? Because I don't.”
“Uh, no, I don't.” He patted his pockets before reaching inside, but they were empty except for some candy wrappers, which he didn't remember eating at all. “Frank, there's something really weird about this, I'm telling you.”
“First, we should get down from here and try to get closer to the city.”
“Frank, I'm fifteen again! Why am I the only one?”
The most logical thing was to head toward the road. Since Frank didn't want any more help with the web, they had to walk for ten minutes through the trees until they reached the line where cars passed by. There was no sign nearby, so they walked along the shoulder for several minutes.
“What kind of ability would Dr. Doom have to revert my body like this? And these clothes too, because I'm pretty sure they shouldn't exist anymore.”
“Well, remember what that Strange guy said about possible reality manipulation. Who knows.”
“If Doom could do something like that, he should have made a reality where all his problems didn't exist anymore. That way we'd save ourselves the trouble of fighting those damn robots.”
“You're in a worse mood than usual. Are teenage hormones affecting your attitude?”
“Oh, shut up.”
It wasn't long before a car pulled over near where they were walking. Since his spider-sense remained quiet at the back of his neck, Peter didn't go on the defensive, and neither did Frank, who kept a not-so-intimidating expression as they stopped to watch the car come to a halt. The driver's window rolled down, revealing an elderly woman chewing gum, her gray hair pulled up in messy curlers, wearing a pink tracksuit.
“Hi there, dears, where are you headed? The sun's pretty intense, wouldn't you like a ride?”
“Uh, well…” Peter tried to say.
“We're heading to Manhattan. How far is it from here?”
“Oh, my.” She brought a hand to her cheek in surprise. “This is Lake Placid, but I'm heading south, so I can drop you off near Albany. How about that?”
Peter and Frank made eye contact for a few seconds, before Peter shrugged and opened the back door to get into the car. He really didn't feel like walking for days just to get back to Manhattan. Besides, how was it possible they were so far north? Something was very wrong. He heard Frank click his tongue as he followed the kid's lead and got in. The inside smelled like a mix of butter and grandma perfume.
“Thank you so much, ma'am. This is really helpful.”
“Don't worry about it, how could I leave you out there? And you're adorable, you look a lot like my grandson. How old are you, sweetie?”
“I'm twenty…” The words died in his mouth, and he cleared his throat. “Fifteen, I guess.”
He heard Frank let out a scoffing laugh beside him, but Peter decided to ignore it.
“Those were the days. My grandson is seventeen, almost off to college, and it makes me so nervous thinking I won't get to see him every day anymore. Anyway, what were you doing out here in the middle of the road? And with this other guy, is he your dad?”
“Definitely not,” Peter deadpanned. “He's my friend, and we're not really sure how we got here. By the way, how long has it been since Dr. Doom invaded the city? That's the last thing we remember, but everything looks so peaceful now.”
“Who?”
“The guy in the green cloak and gray mask. He brought a whole army, and they had to evacuate New York and the surrounding areas. The New Avengers were there and…”
“You mean the Battle of New York? Because that was a few years ago…”
“No, not that one. Where are you from, ma'am?”
“Brooklyn, but I'm not heading that way, and I don't know what you're talking about, sweetie,” she laughed with some disbelief. “Those aliens were serious business, but I don't remember any robots. Or a doctor.”
At those words, a strange feeling settled in his stomach. He swallowed as he leaned back against the seat and looked at Frank, who had his brow furrowed but said nothing, looking just as confused as he was. The fact that he was back in his fifteen-year-old body was already making Peter nervous. It reminded him too much of Thanos, of that stage in his life when everything was easier, only to have it ripped away from him in the cruelest ways. Before the weight of his mistakes, when there was innocence and, above all, hope.
When MJ was his crush and Ned his lifelong best friend. When May and Mr. Stark were still alive. He felt a pang in his chest and focused on staying calm, then the woman started fiddling with the radio.
“How about we listen to something? You look so tired, sweetie. Don't worry, I'll get you both to Albany safe and sound.” She stopped scrolling until she landed on a station with an enthusiastic man speaking in the background, before focusing back on driving.
“...But the accords remain a complicated issue, what do you all think? Are you Team Iron Man or Team Captain America?” the radio host said.
“I thought radios were more up to date with their gossip topics,” Frank said, smirking mockingly, oblivious to the way Peter's stomach was churning.
“Speaking of Iron Man.” There was a pause on the radio. “Many still judge his decision to sell Avengers Tower and build the compound…”
“Ma'am,” Peter barely managed to say, and Frank noticed the tension in his voice, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do you think we could change the station?”
“...they say it was an indirect way of making the Avengers' split clear. If you ask me, I think the compound is impressive…”
“Why? Don't you like the Avengers, sweetie?” the woman said. “My grandson loves them, I thought…”
“...and we're happy to announce that Field Trips to the Avengers compound have recently opened, along with Stark Industries offices, because who needs Avengers Tower when you have these two amazing places? Next up, we'll leave you with a message from Tony Stark on how to participate: 'What's up, you hungry-for-knowledge kids? Or at least I hope you're hungry, because otherwise this message…”
Nausea rose to his throat the moment he heard Tony Stark's voice. He coughed and hunched over in his seat, pressing his face to his knees. He felt Frank's hands on his back and his voice saying something, but it was hard to make out during the first few seconds.
“Are you having other symptoms? And what the fuck is up with that radio?”
The old woman looked completely bewildered and quickly turned it off.
“I'm so sorry, I didn't think the Avengers' split would affect you that much, I thought maybe…”
Peter remembered that message. He remembered it perfectly, from the moment he heard it on YouTube when Ned showed it to him in class, to when Mr. Stark played it for him right after recording it during one of their afternoons in the lab. Peter had been one of the first to know about that initiative; he himself had given Mr. Stark the idea to record it that way to make it more fun. He remembered how much he laughed hearing it, and how that same afternoon they'd eaten pizza while watching a movie in the penthouse living room. It was one of those cherished memories, the ones he revisited from time to time to ease the ache in his heart, but that on other occasions only made it hurt more.
So how was it possible that it was playing on the radio?
“What day is it?” Peter sat up in his seat and lifted his face, forcing himself to breathe normally. “Ma'am, what day is it?”
“Uh? W-Well, it's October 19…”
“Year?”
“2017? Why?”
Peter felt his soul drop to his feet. He immediately turned to Frank, who had his eyes wide open and returned his attention. Both in silence, unable to believe what they had just heard. Then Peter opened his mouth and said:
“Oh, shit.”