Chapter Text
A bullet hitting a target it was never meant for.
An anchor in a universe snapped leaving magic untethered.
An anguished girl losing control in her grief.
Desperate magic meeting psychic desperation.
Peter Parker wakes with a gasp.
He's clutching at his chest where the hole from the bullet just was, the pain gone but the feeling still present though fading.
"EV?" Peter says, voice hoarse from the scream he had let out when he felt the impact of the bullet.
No response.
"EV?" he repeats, starting to feel panicked. "C'mon, talk to me."
He pulls himself up and looks around and realizes that this was where he just was but the walls are bare, no evidence of Jean's explosion of power, nor any evidence of the room that had been there before. Just bare walls and boxes, as though it's just any other storage room. Even the glass panel that had been there has suddenly disappeared.
He makes his way out and finds no sign of the Hand ninjas he had just taken down or any of the guards. Just empty halls.
He stumbles out of the building and is hit with the overwhelming sound of the city. Damn his newly extra enhanced senses.
Shaky breaths are heaved in and out as he tries to ground himself but he can't find the strength. He falls to his knees, gripping his now masked head as the agony spikes and he feels himself slipping away. No. No he can't afford to lose control now.
Peter's trembling body struggles to keep itself upright but as the arachnic instinct to lash out simmers beneath his skin, he doesn't feel an urge to do anything drastic. It is a part of him and he is a part of it, he knows that now. He just needs to figure out how… how to…
There's a familiar whir and Peter stills at the sound. It almost sounds like the repulsors of…
He looks up and all he sees is red.
How dare this manipulative imposter pretend to be Iron Man.
He knows it's not Beck. Beck is gone and has been gone. But that doesn't mean there isn't other illusion tech, or hell, illusion magic that this could be.
For a moment, Peter gets a sliver of hope that maybe it's neither. That maybe this is just an alternate version of Iron Man, like there had been alternate versions of himself.
But then that would mean the universe would be collapsing and he had failed and suffered for nothing.
No. It has to be a trick or an overzealous copycat or—
"Kid, what the hell are you doing?" The suit opens up and Tony steps out, crossing his arms with a disappointed frown that Peter hadn't seen since he was a teenager. "I take your suit and you, what? Head down to Joann's to make yourself a new one?" He scoffs. "At least it's better than the pajamas you were wearing before."
This Tony is not the one he had lost on Titan, aged from the weary years after Thanos's decimation of half the universe. Not the Tony Peter had gotten to know and trust over the years. Not even the Tony that Peter looked up to with starry eyed hero worship.
No, it's the Tony from one of the first lowest points of his life. A time where Peter couldn't possibly imagine things could ever get worse. Well, he had no idea what was coming for him.
So, why would someone pretend to be this Tony? It certainly won't bring up fond memories for Peter or make him easily trust them. So why—
"Uh, hello?" Tony says impatiently. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"When we were in the car when you dropped me off and you reached for the door, what did I do?"
"Excuse me?"
Peter's hands are in fists now, shaking by his sides. "Only the real Tony Stark would know what happened."
Taken back by his words, he pauses for a moment, brows furrowed as he thinks. "You thought it was a hug? But what does that have to do with…"
"Thanos," Peter says and this Tony has no reaction to the word. "Infinity Stones." Again, blank faced. "You… you have no idea what those are, do you?"
"Parker, what the hell are you going on about—"
"What day is it?" Peter interrupts him. When Tony just looks at him with confusion, he stands, the arachnid adrenaline pumping through him. "Tell me! What day is it?"
And when Tony tells him the date, it rings in Peter's ears, not making any sense.
It does, though. If whatever this is is trying to convince him that he's somehow back to when Tony had taken back the suit, that would be the right date. But time travel…
Is possible. C'mon, Peter. Tony literally saved the universe with it.
But that was with Pym Particles and a machine, not…
Not magic? Like the Time Stone Stephen had?
Time travel is absolutely possible and has happened more times than Peter probably even knows about.
There's something in him that wants to keep denying it though because that would mean that he's back before it all went wrong.
Peter pulls off his mask and Tony stills at the sight of him. He hasn't changed too much over the years but he's certainly not the 15 year old kid that this Tony knows.
He knows he's a mess, after all of the fighting he's just done, sweaty and bloody and wounded.
"What…" Tony breathes.
"Hey, Tony," Peter says, the address making Tony reel back, cementing the sheer difference between Peter and the one Tony knows. "It's been a while." His voice cracks on his words, emotions constricting his chest painfully.
And with that, the exhaustion of everything he's had to endure these last few days hits him all at once, and Peter slips into unconsciousness.
.-~*~-.
When Peter wakes up, it's to the medbay in the tower — the tower that still exists and hasn't been hijacked by the New Avengers — with Tony pacing at the end of his bed.
"Run it again."
"Sir," FRIDAY says, "I've run the test twelve times. I don't imagine the results will have changed."
"Mr. Stark?" Peter groans, blinking blearily as he fights against the pain meds that weigh his mind and body down.
"Peter," Tony says, head snapping to face him. "You're finally awake. Took your time with your beauty sleep." The joke falls flat, especially since Tony's concern betrays his attempt at humor.
Peter looks down to his now bare arms and sees that his injuries from the fight have healed significantly.
"So, what did your tests say?" Peter asks.
Tony eyes him calculatingly. "They did prove that you are Peter Parker. A Peter Parker that's in his twenties and, hm, about twenty percent more spider."
"Only twenty?"
Tony shoots him a glare and Peter holds his hands up in surrender.
"Time travel," Tony says. "That's a thing now, then. Or, will be."
"Yeah," Peter nods. "I'm not sure how much I should tell you."
Tony grows a little giddy. "I invented it, didn't I?"
Peter doesn't have the best poker face, being high on painkillers and all, and a satisfied smirk grows on Tony's face.
"Fascinating. You know, I've thought about it, of course I have, but I never had a reason to try." His face falls. "So, I guess I would have had to have found a reason to." He turns back to Peter. "Don't tell me you come from some sort post-apocalyptic dystopia and I sent you back as some last resort."
"I wouldn't say post-apocalyptic." He pauses. "Well." At Tony's widen eyes, Peter quickly amends, "No, there definitely was no world ending events. The world is… not ended. Just, different."
"Different how?"
Peter looks at his hands fiddling with the cot blanket. "Different in a way that… that I don't know if I can change."
And should he even try? What kind of repercussions would it have trying to make those kind of changes? No, what kind of repercussions is there him just being here?
He needs to talk to Stephen. He'll know—
It hits him, suddenly.
He's no longer forgotten, and the people he lost, they're here. Alive.
Aunt May is out there somewhere with her Peter, probably laughing as they share takeout.
Happy is out there, frustrated and annoyed with this Peter, but okay.
MJ and Ned are still in high school, Ned having just found out about Peter's secret, and MJ only just starting to know of him.
The Avengers are alive too, even if they're broken up.
And Tony, right here, looking at him expectantly with that cocked brow Peter remembers being pointed at him so many times.
It's not fixed, it's not going to magically fix the years of guilt and grief that he's suffered through, but they're here. They're all here.
Peter can't fall apart. Not yet. He has too much to figure out.
"I need to talk to Dr. Stephen Strange."
Tony frowns. "The neurosurgeon? There's nothing wrong with your head—"
Peter starts to get up. "I really appreciate your help and all, getting me all back up to health, but I really need to get going—"
"Go?" Tony repeats. "You can't just go—"
"I can and I will," Peter says firmly. "I'm not a kid you can boss around, anymore and… and it's been a really long time, Tony." Peter's jaw clenches as he fights back the tears that sting his eyes. "There's too much at stake. I've already done enough damage just by letting myself talk to you. I can't let myself do any more."
"Hey, hey, wait. At least let me come with you."
Peter smiles sadly. "I hope I'll get to see you again."
"Where are you going to go without your suit?" Tony says.
"If I'm nothing without the suit, then I shouldn't have it," Peter says, mirroring the words Tony had once said to him with a shrug, before pushing open the window and shooting an organic web to the next building, and disappearing into the city.