Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I hope they remember you.” Thanos raised his hand, stones glowing. 

“Wait, wait, stop, please!” Peter’s ribs ached, his lungs trembling with the need for air, but Peter couldn’t stand there and watch Mr. Stark die, he just couldn’t. With a thwip of his webs, he slid in between Mr. Stark and Thanos. “Can’t we talk about this?” He pleaded. 

“Kid, don’t.” Mr. Stark gasped. 

“There is nothing to say. The universe must be saved and this is the only way.” Thanos’s eyes on Peter chilled him to the bone. Peter had seen a lot since he started running around Queens as Spider-Man. A lot. He’d seen crazy eyes, angry eyes, sad eyes, eyes full of grief, eyes full of fear. Never before had he seen such emotionless eyes as those Thanos had. There was no hate, anger, or fear in those eyes. They were completely calm. 

They didn’t look crazy at all and it was terrifying to see when he knew just what the Titan had planned.

“But why is it the only way?” Peter cried. “I get it, you’re after the stones and all, I get that, because they’re super powerful and you could do what you want in a second, but why just kill everyone? With the stones, you’d have the power to rip reality apart and rebuild it! You could build entire worlds with that power! Just using the stone to kill half the universe-it’s just-just-STUPID.”

“Insect, you know nothing.” Peter’s Spider Sense alerted him to the blow, it always did, but he couldn’t move because if he moved, Thanos would hit Mr. Stark instead. That one second of hesitation was all Thanos needed to land the blow, sending Peter flying through the air, dazing him. 

He thought he heard Mr. Stark shouted after him. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. He thought a lot happened actually, but none of it was clear. He felt numb. He felt like something cracked inside him but he couldn’t be sure what it was. He was staring at that yellow-orange sky. He wished it was blue. He wanted to go home and hug Aunt May. 

“Kid? Kid! Talk to me kid!” Mr. Stark was there, stumbling next to Peter. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. We’ll get you to a hospital.” 

Why do I need a hospital? Peter wondered, but did not ask. 

“We’re in space, but there’s gotta be an alien one nearby or something.” Mr. Stark said. He sounded very upset. Peter wasn’t sure why. 

“Not in this part of the galaxy.” One of the new heroes, he couldn’t remember her name, said. 

“If we can get him onto the Benatar, we have some meds that might work.” Another one said. Why couldn’t Peter remember any of their names? “They work on me at least, and they can-they can help. It’s worth a try.” 

“Okay. Okay. We can do this. Peter, this might hurt, but stay with me kid.” 

“Something is happening.” The other girl interrupted.

He could hear a sound. He didn’t like it. His Spider Sense was going off, blaring in his head. He tensed. He wanted to run, but his legs weren’t responding. How could he escape that horrible sound if he couldn’t move his legs? 

“Quill…?”

Someone was breathing hard, scared, perhaps as scared as Peter. Good. We should both be running.

“Steady Quill.” Mr. Stark said from right next to him. 

“Oh man…”

“Tony... There was no other way.” 

The sound was on him, he could feel it, invading him, tearing at him, his body trying to heal anyways. “Mr. Stark.” He choked out, eyes fluttering open. “I don’t feel so good.”

“You’re alright.” Mr. Stark said. Peter wanted to believe him but he couldn’t. His body was losing. He felt himself crying. He wanted that hug. 

“I don’t wanna go.” He whimpered. Thoughts ran through his head. He thought about Aunt May and Ned and MJ. He wondered if Ned was waiting for him to come home. What Aunt May was cooking for dinner. He could feel Mr. Stark’s arms around him, and that helped. He felt less alone. 

Moving his eyes took a monumental effort. But he managed to look at Mr. Stark. 

“I’m sorry.” Sorry for losing the gauntlet. Sorry for failing. Sorry for dying. He had a lot to be sorry for it seemed, and he hoped Mr. Stark would accept that apology. Not that Peter deserved forgiveness. 

Two things happened in very short order. Peter Parker’s heart stopped beating from injuries sustained while fighting Thanos.

And then the Snap claimed him.

Chapter Text

Peter woke up to liquid in his lungs and burning in his heart. He was drowning in something thick and heavy and it burned. Not like how a fire burned, no. This liquid burned like acid, stinging acid that felt as if he was being torn apart, bits and pieces of himself dissolving in the goo. 

Peter slapped his hands through the ‘water’ and kicked his feet fruitlessly, even as he continued to sink. He opened his eyes, hoping to see light, but all he could see was green. A bright, neon green that wouldn’t stop choking him. 

Peter was not a great swimmer. He used to do well enough, but the spider-bite ruined that for him. His bones and muscles were much denser than normal, more dense than water, like a rock. And just like rocks, Peter sank.

He wasn’t about to give up like that though. He stretched his hands out, searching for anything, a wall at least! 

The tip of his middle finger just barely touched one. Excited, Peter kicked towards it, getting those extra centimeters he needed to reach it. With his hand on the wall, he pulled himself forward, put all four limbs on it, and started to climb. 

Peter reached the air and gasped, but immediately started choking and spluttering as more of the green stuff went down his throat. Everything was green and burning, but the desire to live clenched his limbs and gave him the strength to pull himself up. 

He collapsed on the ground. He coughed. He vomited. He screamed-everything around him was a horrible shade of lime green-invading his system. He still felt burned, like he’d been standing in an oven. He felt confused, he had no idea where he was or how he got there. His mind flashed with images of a yellow-orange sky and a mad titan he couldn’t hope to defeat. There was a furious part of him that said, no, you could have done it if you’d stopped holding back. 

Eventually, air began to reach his lungs. Eventually he was able to open his eyes without seeing green. Or at least, he only saw the green of the pool he’d escaped.

“Just what I need.” He rasped. “More radiation. Love cancer rays.” 

The dim light of the pool Peter just crawled out of had one benefit at least. It helped him get an idea of what KIND of place he was in, although he still had no idea where it was or how he got there. It was underground and the only company he could sense were several spiders. He could sense their tiny movements and that of their prey. Their presence was a welcome relief, a single spot of familiarity in an unfamiliar place.

“Not gonna bother you.” Peter rasped. “But which way is the door?” 

The spiders quieted, then one of them began to pluck its web. Peter listened, then nodded. 

“Thanks.” He got up and took a step to the right of the pool, then froze. He could feel fabric hanging off him, cold air hitting his shoulder, wet clothes landing on the ground with a SLAP. Peter started to pat himself down and realized his entire outfit hung off him like he’d lost half a foot of height. If his suit wasn’t a onesie, he’d be pantsless right now. As it was, the presence of a huge hole in the middle of the suit, the scratches raking through the arms, made it barely decent and only so long as he hitched the suit up. 

In the green light of the pool, Peter tried to examine himself. He couldn’t see his face, but he could see his hands, and they were much smaller than they used to be. “I shrunk?” Peter stared, turning his hands back and forth, half expecting them to suddenly return to his normal size. 

“Karen?” Peter checked, but the AI didn’t answer. He patted his pockets, but couldn’t find his phone. He’d lost it at some point, either during the fight with Thanos or in the pool just now, and he didn’t think he could go back to either without getting himself killed.

After considering it for a moment, Peter took his suit shoes off, rolled up his pant legs and sleeves, then stood up. It looked to him that this was the best he could do for now. 

Following the spider’s instructions, he started walking again. Stumbling along on aching feet, Peter kept one hand on the dirt wall both for balance and so he wouldn’t get lost. Translating spider instructions into human ones was difficult, for the spiders he’d already crossed days worth of walking, but luckily the place wasn’t too complicated. After almost an hour of walking in total darkness, the smooth dirt of the wall turned to stone. Once that happened, Peter started to walk more carefully, feeling his way forward. It took another fifteen minutes, but his foot eventually kicked the pile of rubble between him and freedom. There was nothing left for him to do but dig. 

Peter started to claw his way through the rubble, kicking the smaller stones away, heaving the bigger ones to the side, he almost cried when dirt started to tumble onto his hands, but then it stopped and he kept going. Spider-Man dug his way through the stone and tried not to think of a warehouse in Queens. 

At first, Peter didn’t notice when his hand broke through the rubble, he was already grabbing the next one and tossing that one down. But the second time he felt bare air against the back of his hand, he knew he’d done it. Without hesitation, he threw himself into the hole he’d made, clawing, dragging himself, he grit his teeth and pushed his way through. He landed on the other side of the pile, skidding down it, scraping his hands and legs. It didn’t matter to him, they’d heal soon, he was just so happy to be in-

A sewer. Of fucking course. 

Peter sighed, then regretted it because the smell of the sewer invaded his nose even more. He gagged and started to move, hoping to escape the smell.

Now that he was in the sewer, patches of light provided enough to see by. Peter headed towards the closest one, but didn’t go up. He shuffled his feet and looked at his ill-fitting costume instead. Why did it look half-fried and where was the Iron Spider armor? Peter leaned against the wall and sighed. 

I can’t go up there in broad daylight. Even if I’ve shrunken somehow, I shouldn’t be seen wearing the Spider-Man suit without my mask. And I lost that on the alien ship when I lost oxygen. 

Deciding to wait until nightfall, Peter let himself slide to the ground. He was tired. He was confused. He wanted to go home and get that hug from Aunt May. He wanted to find out where Mr. Stark was. Since he couldn’t do any of that yet, Peter allowed himself to fall asleep. 

Peter’s exhaustion kept his mind free of dreams, but it wasn’t long until he woke up again. This time, the light patches had all but vanished. Assuming this meant night had fallen, Peter climbed the ladder until he was directly beneath the manhole cover. He took a second to listen for cars and pedestrians, but he didn’t hear anything so he went ahead and slipped out. 

The sky above Peter was gray and cloudy. The air stung his nose almost as bad as the sewer. He could smell chemicals and smog, heard the sounds of people rushing about their business, and his Spider Sense began to hum. It was a low-level warning, ‘no danger incoming but be cautious’ sort of hum, so Peter tried to stuff it to the back of his head. 

He slid the manhole cover back into place and tried to web himself up to a roof, but his web shooters didn’t work. Instead, Peter climbed it. Once on the roof, he looked around the unfamiliar city skyline. 

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in New York anymore.” Peter muttered.

The section of town he’d ended up in didn’t look like a great one, but what else was new? Peter jumped between the rooftops carefully, hoping to find some random clothes he could wear for now. Eventually, he saw someone’s clothes line hanging between fire escapes. It had a pair of pants and a shirt that might fit him close enough, so Peter grabbed those and made sure to memorize the location. He’d return them as soon as he had his own clothes, Peter told himself. 

He took off his suit, hesitating over what to do with it. He didn’t want to leave it behind, but with it no longer fitting him at all, he couldn’t wear it underneath his clothes anymore. He didn’t want to leave it somewhere either, just in case someone found it and stole it. In the end, only one solution came to him. Peter balled it up and tied the arms around it. 

Pulling his stolen clothes on, Peter finally let out a sigh of relief. Running around in his soaked suit and without a mask had worried him a great deal. Now that the suit was finally covered, he let himself drop down from the rooftops. 

Next item on the docket: shelter.

Chapter Text

Peter stood in front of the building, squinting at the sign. It says ‘shelter’ on it, so why does the place make my spider sense hum a little louder? It concerned Peter, but not enough to stop him from going inside. He was just too tired to try to decipher the mysteries of his spider sense.

Inside, the place was dimly lit and a little cramped. A large guy sat behind a desk. He looked up, seemed to judge Peter for a minute, then jerked a finger towards the stairs. “Get a bed wherever.” He said. 

Please don’t tell me that was a New Jersey accent… Peter nodded in thanks because he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying, “ That’s a great bedside manner you have there. ” Quips were for Spider-Man, not Peter Parker.

He walked up the stairs and came to a room. Inside, he could see a few other people sleeping in the beds. Most of them looked young, which seemed a little wrong to Peter. He couldn’t see even one old-timer here. 

Weird.

Deciding he was too tired to think much about it, Peter collapsed into the nearest available bed and let himself go back to sleep. 

This time, Peter did dream. He saw that yellow-orange sky again, but this time he was buried beneath it. He struggled to push slabs of concrete and rebar off of him, but he couldn’t do it. He was too weak. He could hear his Uncle Ben breathing raggedly, he KNEW he had to get there, had to get Uncle Ben to the hospital- but he still couldn’t move! He shoved and pushed against the building, but it wouldn’t budge and all he could see was that stupid yellow-orange sky. 

And then it turned neon green, burning across his retinas-

Peter’s spider-sense screamed at him, his nightmare falling away as he gasped. Danger! Danger! He twisted in the bed, blanket thrown off as he tried to locate the source. He heard a hissing noise of some sort, like a snake perhaps? He jumped straight up, hitting the ceiling and sticking to it. 

It took only a second from there to locate the sound of the hissing, some metal container was spitting out a gas of some sort. As Peter watched, he realized that no one else seemed to be reacting to it. He listened then, and heard that everyone here had slow heartbeats. Slow and steady meant they were all sleeping. 

It’s a setup, Peter realized. He had to act, had to save these people! Holding his breath, he jumped down from the ceiling, grabbed the container, and chucked it through the nearest window. It smashed through with a piercing noise that made him wince, but it was gone at least. Outside wasn’t a good place to get rid of it, he knew, but at least it wouldn’t put anyone else to sleep. The outside air would dilute it too much.

He heard people, probably the ones who’d set up the trap, murmuring on the base floor. He couldn’t hear what they said, but he could understand the tone. Confusion, mild alarm, then boots on the stairs. 

Peter sprang back into his bed and faked sleep, keeping his eyes thinly slitted. 

The door creaked open. The man from the front desk peered inside the room. After a moment, he closed it again. 

“Those sorry shit-bags are out.” Peter heard the man, Desk, say. More boots on the stairs. “Let the boss know we got another batch for-” He couldn’t hear the rest as the sentence faded out. Still, he’d heard enough. 

Peter sat up and coughed from the lingering gas. Although not enough to put him under, it made his head feel woozy and slow. 

Come on Peter, these people need you. Get up Spider-Man! 

Peter stood up and counted the others. There were twelve people, none of them older than 25, and some as young as ten. All of them were still deeply asleep. How am I going to get them out of here? Where do I take them? He could carry twelve people’s weight, but he didn’t have the arm length to carry them, and his web shooters were still down. 

Peter set his jaw, then started to barricade the door with some of the leftover beds. If he couldn’t carry them out at once, he’d just have to do this slowly. In the meanwhile, he couldn’t allow anyone else to come in. This might not be my neighborhood, but I’m not going to let you hurt anyone! 

“The hell’s that? Thought you said-” The words drifted from a different man’s voice. He could hear footsteps on the stairs again. 

Peter’s heart rate rose sharply, he’d hoped to get at least a few of them out of here before the men noticed the noises! 

Peter snatched up the two smallest kids, boys the both of them, and walked up the wall to the window he’d already broken. He had to crouch to get through, holding both kids over his arms as he carefully avoided the broken glass, so it took him a few seconds longer than he’d like. 

As Peter slipped out the window, he hesitated again. Up or down? He looked down at the dirty alley floor, exposed on all sides. Up. 

Peter climbed the building as quickly as he could. He could hear the men starting to slam against the door, he hoped the beds could last against them. 

Peter set the boys down on the roof, then went back to the room, grabbing another two people. Up and down he went and all the while, he watched as the door began to bend and creak, the men shouting on the other side for them to open up.

Peter had only brought a little over half the people to the roof when he realized that the door was starting to split in half and with it, any chance of saving everyone while protecting his identity. What do I do? How can I stop them? Peter’s thoughts raced until the solution occurred to him. He realized that even if the web shooters didn’t work, the chemicals inside them were probably still okay. Even if they weren’t, he’d only lose a few seconds to the attempt.

Wincing with regret, Peter took his web shooters off and aimed at the door. Then, he threw one straight at it. As the device cracked open with the force, his webs reacted with the air and instantly splattered against the door, reinforcing the barricade. 

Peter reattached the second one to his wrist, relieved he’d only needed one for this door.

Afterwards, Peter finished bringing everyone up to the roof. He rolled his shoulders, stretching them out. His mind was running quickly, he knew this wasn’t the end of things. None of these people were anywhere close to safe right now! The men could break through the barricade, or give up and start searching the building, and he could see a door for the roof. If they decided to check up here… this time, there were no beds he could barricade it with.

Regretfully, Peter took off his last web shooter and smashed it against that door with the same method, securing it…for now. Still, those dissolved eventually, so he knew he had to throw the bad guys off the trail somehow. A simple plan came to mind.

He climbed back into the room and eyed his makeshift barricade. His webs could take a lot of force, he was reasonably confident that the three men had no chance of getting into the room if they couldn’t before. That meant he had time to ‘set the scene’.

“Forget this! You two keep trying to get in, I’m going to patrol.” One of the men said.

Or maybe not. Parker Luck strikes again. Peter quickly began to strip the sheets and blankets from the beds, tying them together. It wasn’t hard with the amount of beds here, and he didn’t use any complicated knot either. Peter tied the final result to a pipe and threw the rest of the rope out the window he’d been using. 

The man who’d split off had just reached the ground floor, so Peter jumped through the window and began climbing down the wall, not bothering with the makeshift rope (that wouldn’t even hold his weight anyway). He waited until the man opened the door to throw himself onto the dumpster. 

It clanged loudly, the sound resonating through the air. 

Peter waited a moment, pretending to be dazed by the fall, as the man ran out the door to the alley. 

“They’ve escaped!” The man shouted to his comrades. “They went out the window!” 

Peter rolled off the dumpster and started to run, stumbling at first to make it believable. There was glass in the alleyway, but with his spider-sense, avoiding it was a breeze. He couldn’t avoid the concrete and asphalt that bit into his feet as he ran, but neither could he afford to stop and rub the gravel off his feet.

The man gave chase, and his two comrades followed shortly after. A part of him bubbled with anger, he knew he was stronger, could defeat these men before they even knew what hit them. A part of him demanded he stand and fight. They’re scum, they deserve to be taught a lesson. It crooned.

It was a tempting thought, and if he could fit into his suit or somehow hide his identity, he likely would have given into it. 

Instead, Peter gritted his teeth and ran, trying to think of how to ditch the men without seeming suspicious. Right now, he wasn’t Spider-Man, able to take down men who are twice his size with ease. He was Peter Parker, thin and wiry, small and untrained. 

Small-that’s it! 

Eyes flicked side to side, spotting what he needed. Peter skidded into an alley, blocking the men’s sight of him for a moment. He jumped on a dumpster, letting out another CLANG, then hoisted himself onto a fire escape that made his senses scream, running up the stairs as the metal wobbled beneath him. 

The men turned into the alleyway, looking around before finally spotting him up there. Peter stuck his tongue out at them and kept climbing. 

“Get back down here, you little brat!” One of the men, Boots Peter decided to call him, said.

“No thanks! My aunt says I’m not allowed to follow strangers!” Peter called back. 

“How’d he even get up there?” Desk muttered.

As if in answer, Boots jumped onto the dumpster and tried to grab the fire escape. He managed, but as soon as he put his weight on it, the rusted bar broke beneath him, sending him slamming back into the dumpster. 

“You deserved that.” Peter shouted back as he pulled himself onto the roof. 

The men cursed below him, but they didn’t look like they were planning on giving up. Boots in particular glared so intensely, Peter felt his spider sense rise in warning. Still, as long as Peter watched the three of them, they weren’t out there, threatening anyone else, so he wasn’t too worried.

“You can’t stay up there forever!” The third one, Cliche, shouted. 

“Maybe not, but how long can you wait?” Peter taunted back. “You really gonna camp out there all night? Wow, I didn’t realize how important I was to you! I’m flattered, really!” 

A glass bottle shattered against the wall, Peter didn’t even flinch. The men cursed and plotted. Several times, they tried to climb the fire escape, but they couldn’t get a handle without part of it coming down on them. 

“Man, that can NOT be up to code.” Peter commented. 

“Forget the kid already.” Cliche suddenly said. “He doesn’t have any proof, goin’ to the police won’t help him.”

“A bat would believe him though, you want to bring down that attention on us?” Boots snapped.

“You do seem like you have a few too many bats in your belfry already.” Peter quipped. Inwardly, he questioned what Boots meant by a bat’s attention. 

“Not to mention the others, who can back the kid’s story up.” Desk growled.

The three started squabbling again and Peter relaxed against the roof’s edge. This is going to be a long night…

Chapter Text

Nightwing shocked the last goon with his escrima stick and watched as they fell to the ground. He looked around at the four men and rolled his shoulders. An easy smile came to his face. “Not much of a challenge huh?” 

The girl they’d been harassing had run off during the fight so Nightwing tied the goons up and alerted Oracle so the GCPD could pick them up. He grappled back up to the roofs and started running again. He’d ended up a little closer to Crime Alley than he’d expected, Jason probably wouldn’t be too happy about that. 

Oh well. Jason's anger wasn’t Nightwing's problem to deal with.

Nightwing hopped to the next building, intending on heading back into the Bowery, when he saw something that made him hesitate. He turned and went deeper into Crime Alley instead. 

“How did…?” Nightwing looked around the rooftop counting twelve unconscious people with no apparent reason for being here. He knew they were unconscious because not one of them so much as stirred when he tried to wake them. 

Going into Detective Mode, Nightwing looked around the rooftop, searching for the usual suspects. “What is this?” Nightwing approached the rooftop access door and looked at a strange, white substance that had exploded over it. It almost reminded him of a spider’s web, an observation he tucked away for further examination later. 

Knowing better than to just touch mysterious substances, Nightwing used a pair of tweezers to take samples of it for further analysis, noting the way the material clung to it and resisted being transferred to the vials. Then he examined the way it had exploded, quickly finding the center of it. He was expecting glass, maybe signs of an explosive, but no, there was no sign of a fire. What he found were bits of metal and plastic tangled through the substance. 

Carefully, Nightwing extracted as much of it as he could. Hopefully the Batcave’s computer or Tim could make enough sense of the pieces to figure out the function. 

That done, Nightwing turned back to the sleepers. He examined them again and found no evidence of recreational drugs or alcohol, and no one seemed to be injured. “Perhaps they inhaled a gas or something?” Nightwing mused. 

Since it wasn’t raining or winter, and therefore no one would be hurt by spending a few extra minutes on the roof, Nightwing decided to investigate the building further before calling in the cops. He started by peeking down the sides of the building, quickly discovering a sheet rope coming from one of the windows. He frowned. That’s weird. It’s going down, not up. 

He rappelled down the side of the building and entered through that window. Inside, he found a ransacked, bare-bones room full of beds, backpacks, purses, and…more of that strange substance. It was covering another door, and this time Nightwing could see that the substance was covering a barricade of some sort. He couldn’t see the door very well through it, so he examined the mystery substance again. 

He found more bits and pieces entangled throughout the web, so he collected those too. If analyzing one didn’t work, analyzing the second would probably be enough to figure out the mechanism. 

That done, Nightwing checked out the backpacks. In one, he found an I.D. belonging to one of the sleepers upstairs. So these had to be their belongings. Why were they left here?

Nightwing climbed back out the window, avoiding the sheet rope. He could tell it wouldn’t really handle anyone’s weight, the knots would slip if he, or anyone, had tried. Their maker must have been an amateur…but then, why wasn’t the rope broken? If the rope had gone unused, then what was it doing here? Why make a useless rope and then not even fail at using it?

As Nightwing stepped into the alley, he cast a critical look around, then spotted something very familiar: one of Scarecrow’s air dispersal units on the ground. Very efficient, even letting one off for a few seconds in an enclosed space could gas the entire room. He bagged this for the cave too, he’d need to know what chemicals it had dispersed.

This time, Nightwing entered through the front of the building, noting the ‘shelter’ sign. That gave him a bad feeling, most shelters that weren’t sponsored by Bruce were bad news. 

The inside confirmed his suspicions. He couldn’t find anything that suggested this place was a legitimate shelter. 

“Hellooooo? Are there any bad guys in here?” Nightwing called out cheerfully. He rang a bell on the desk several times, but no one appeared. 

Easily, Nightwing slipped behind the desk and started searching for paperwork. 

What he found was a journal detailing ‘bunny’ sales. Nightwing scowled, knowing immediately what the ‘bunnies’ stood for. 

“Oracle, I need ambulances and police at Crime Alley.” Nightwing rattled off the address.

“They’re on their way, but they said it might take a while.” Barbara answered through the comms. 

“Ask them to make it a higher priority, I just found a human trafficking ring. I don’t know where the perpetrators are, but some of their victims are stuck up on the roof right now.” Nightwing reported.

“How many victims?” 

“Twelve.”

“Copy that Nightwing.” 

“What the shit ‘Wing, what are ya doin’ on my turf?” Hood butted into the conversation. 

“What was I gonna do? Swing away after noticing people stuck on a roof?” Nightwing chuckled, not minding his little brother’s antagonism in the least. 

“Fer starters, ya could’ve called me first.” Hood grouched. 

“Consider this me calling you, then.” Nightwing snarked back. He went back to digging through the office, looking for any more information he could use. 

The human-trafficking made sense to him. Evil, but not something he hadn’t seen before. The strange substance and victims on the roof, on the other hand, did not make sense. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say someone had beaten them to the punch here, gotten the victims to safety and then lured away the villains. 

Nightwing froze and reconsidered the evidence. Someone had to have secured and barricaded the room the victims must have been in originally. Then someone had brought them to the roof and barricaded that too. And SOMEONE had left an obvious sheet rope leading down to the alley. Perhaps it was meant to be a red herring?

“Hey Oracle, could you get someone else down here to look over the Bowery for me? I gotta stay here and make sure the victims are taken care of, but I think we’re missing someone.”

“Orphan is heading over there now.” Barbara reported. He could hear the click-clacking of her fingers on her keyboard. 

“Cool. And bear in mind, we might have a new player in town. I don’t know if they’re meta or just have advanced tech, but they were definitely here tonight. Someone secured the victims and got the traffickers out of the building, motivations unknown.” 

“Understood. Oracle, start a file on this new player.” Bruce commanded. 

“Already done. Any recommended file names?” 

“Try Webs for now.” Nightwing suggested, remembering his earlier impression. 

“Nightwing, you are HORRIBLE at namin’ things.” Spoiler interrupted. “Oracle, go with somethin’ cooler!” 

“Keep the comms clear.” Bruce sighed.

“I didn’t even get to SPIN a few other names! Webs means spider theme right?” Spoiler laughed. 

“Spoiler.” Bruce warned. 

“You’re no fun.” 

There was a long-suffering sigh. I love my family. Nightwing smiled and headed back to the roof. He figured it was time to evacuate the citizens from there, maybe try and match them with their things.

Nightwing checked on the victims one more time, then returned to the empty room. Here, he started poking around the beds, examining the backpacks. Everything looked normal at first, until he made his way to the front of the room.

Hidden under one of the beds was a bundle of cloth that had been tied together. It squished a little in his hands, the fabric damp with some liquid. A shiver ran through him and he knew this wasn’t normal water. That this was something much worse than the Gotham harbor.

He untied the arms and wrung them out, watching as a bright green liquid trickled to the floor. “Lazarus.” Nightwing muttered. He really didn’t like how the evidence was stacking up. Of course, Bruce would say something about how he shouldn’t jump to conclusions, that just because this was a green liquid of some sort didn't mean they were dealing with a Lazarus Pit, which was true, but Nightwing had seen Lazarus pits before, felt their energy and the way they made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He knew what they were, he was positive that's what this was, and its presence here bore no good. 

He took some samples anyway, just to confirm, then unfolded the cloth bundle. He crooked an eyebrow as he realized he was looking at a suit of some sort, one that had taken a great deal of damage at some point. It had a spiderweb design running over it, was made for someone almost a foot shorter than him, and he could feel a layer of technology running through the suit, though there was no indication of anything being active.

“Definitely a new player in the game.” Nightwing decided. “And confirmation on the spider theme.”

Later that night, Dick stood in the Batcave and stared at the vials he’d stored the web samples in. Vials that were now empty. 

“I can’t analyze nothing you know.” Tim said dryly. 

“They weren’t ‘nothing’ an hour ago!” Dick objected.

Tim snickered, but he looked intrigued. He grabbed the sample vials anyways. “Maybe if I analyze the air composition in these, I can get something for you.” He offered. “But probably not much. Unless you took samples in a vacuum, Gotham air will be in here too. Even if I can isolate the chemicals, I’ll still have no idea how the elements were put together.”

“Thanks Tim. As far as the web stuff goes, the only other clue I have are these pieces.” Dick let the bags fall onto the table into two, neat piles. “And the suit, but B wants to go slower with that since it might be trapped.” 

Tim nodded and looked the scattered pieces over. “I should be able to figure out what they used to be from this.” He nodded. 

“Great! I’m gonna process the rest of this evidence then and call it a night.” Dick didn’t consider himself a pro at chemical analysis, but he knew the basics and the Batcomputer could be relied on for easy work at least. 

While the computer worked on the chemical analysis, Dick began to look through the bunny sale records, trying to figure out who was buying and where the victims may be now…

Chapter Text

Two hours. That was how long Peter sat on the roof, dodging the occasional thrown bottle and watching the three musketeers curse and complain. Two hours until they realized there was no way they could get to Peter on the roof and finally left. Peter listened to them talk about going back to the 'shelter' and clearing out before the ‘Bats’ showed up.

That still confused Peter. He knew about a lot of heroes, between being on the Decathalon team and his own personal interest, he thought he had a good idea of most of the heroes in America. Yet he didn’t know of any that were bat themed, let alone multiple. 

Still, he had bigger things to worry about. He didn’t know if those civilians had woken up yet or not, and his webs would have dissolved by now. They could easily still be in danger!

Peter began to hop and run over the rooftops to get back to the 'shelter' first. He made sure to block his face whenever jumping streets, just in case someone had a camera pointed up, but for the most part he didn’t worry about anything else but getting back.

He was still a few blocks away when he spotted the roof of the ‘shelter’. It was empty now, Peter felt his back run cold at the sight. Where are they? What happened to them? What if more of these bozos showed up and kidnapped them? What if- Then he saw the police car parked outside and relaxed. 

Slowing down, he quietly moved so he could listen in on the officer’s conversation. 

“-hide it in the alley? The traffickers might still come back.” One of the officers, the younger one, said. 

“Naw, I doubt it. Why would they come back? They just lost their whole cargo for the night. If I was them, I’d be clearing out and making up some story about the bats figuring us out, just in case the boss came along.”

“You think so?” 

The two talked for a little longer, but Peter was too busy feeling relieved to worry about it. This had to have meant that the police had taken care of the victims already. He could relax now…as soon as he retrieved his suit.

Peter maneuvered around the buildings until he could poke his head back inside the fake shelter. He scanned the interior, spotting nothing and no one, then jumped back inside. His feet landed with a soft thump. Once more, Peter froze, eyes darting from side to side as he searched for any threats or witnesses. When none appeared, he walked towards his own cot. Peter tilted the edge of the cot up, expecting to see his suit right where he left it. Panic widened his eyes when the sight of an empty floor greeted him instead.

“Where’s-” Peter frantically felt around beneath the bed, as if the suit had suddenly turned invisible but nope. He couldn’t feel it. 

The suit was gone. Mr. Stark’s suit. Made specifically for Peter. Was missing. Gone. Probably taken to some evidence lock-up, doomed to sit there for years and years until someone finally tossed it out.

“Nononononono…” Peter let the cot fall back to the ground and slid underneath it, as if the change in lighting would somehow make his suit appear. It didn't. “Shit. Fuck. Fuck!”

Peter was normally against swearing. Particularly because of his Aunt May, but mostly because swearing usually felt just plain wrong. But if there was ever a time to swear, this situation definitely called for it.

“I haven’t been here two nights and I’ve already lost the suit. Oh crap, I really lost the suit.” Peter flopped his head into his hands and tried not to cry. 

His breath came faster, his chest ached, and his eyes burned with the effort of holding back tears. Peter knew he was alone, knew there was no one there to judge him, but he couldn’t let go. He’d lost the suit, he didn’t have a RIGHT to cry over it.  

“If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it.” Memory Stark reminded him. 

It’s not about that! Peter protested back, frustration rising in his heart. I lost the suit, the suit YOU gave me, that’s-it’s-it’s not about who I am, it’s about- Peter groaned and ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t know how to explain it, to explain that the suit meant so much more to him than it did before. He was Spider-Man, with or without the suit after all. 

No, what was driving him to tears was the fact that he lost something that Mister Stark had entrusted him with. 

When Peter got the suit back, it had meant so much more to him than random gear. Getting it back, he’d KNOWN that Mister Stark was giving him so much more than a suit, that he’d been handing over his trust, his wish for Peter to stay safe, and showing his belief that Peter could be a hero. A real one. 

And now he’d lost it. He’d lost it all.

Peter curled into a ball beneath the cot and clasped his hand over his mouth, muffling the cries that shook his chest and choked him. He didn’t have time for this, he knew that, but it didn’t stop him.

Peter clutched his face like he was trying to strangle himself and he didn’t stop until his chest ached for breath more than it wanted to cry.

In. Out. In. Out. His gasps were too loud in the silent air, but they steadied him enough to blink back the tears, shove that mental breakdown to the side. He wasn’t safe, police could come through that door any minute now, this was no place to have that breakdown his heart screamed for. Not today, not now, preferably not ever thanks. I just need to get home so Aunt May can hug me and that’ll be it. Everything will be okay as soon as I get back home.

With that reassurance, Peter crawled out from under the cot, still upset, but a little calmer anyway. “At least I saved everyone else who was here.” He said. “Mister Stark…he’d be okay with me losing it while helping others, right?” 

The empty room didn’t answer him, and neither did his memory of Mister Stark. Peter jumped up to the window, feeling tired, knowing he needed to rest now and that doing it in an active crime scene was definitely not the best call. 

If I can just find a place to rest AT. Peter sighed as he jumped out the window. The need for sleep dragged at his limbs. He needed to get to a shelter, a real one this time.

Peter got back down to street level and started wandering again. As he did, he noted that most of the fire escapes in this part of town weren’t even close to safe. His, ‘get to a roof while using a really rusted fire escape so the bad guys can’t follow’ plan would have worked well in almost every alley he poked his head into. Not to mention the number of apartments he spotted without access to the fire escape. It was just…weird. And upsetting. What kind of city has these hazards just lying around? This’ll get people killed if there’s a fire!

A lot of thoughts pushed at the back of Peter’s mind, but like the continuous hum of his Spider-Sense, Peter shoved it to the back of his mind for now. 

After about half an hour of wandering, Peter had no idea where he was, but he’d finally found another building listing itself as a shelter. The differences between the last shelter and this, ‘Martha Wayne Foundation Shelter for the Homeless’ was like night and day. Where the old one had been crowded and small, dim, with a barely legible sign, this one clearly identified itself and was lit up. As he poked his head inside the building, he could see a lot more people in a dark room beyond the front desk. 

“Hello there! Can we help you?” A blonde girl at the front desk called. Her brown eyes were friendly and open.

“Yeah, I need a place to sleep for the night?” Peter asked hesitantly. His eyes flicked around the room as he wondered what the odds would be of running into two groups of bad guys masquerading as a homeless shelter.

“I think we’re out of beds for the night,” The girl said apologetically, “But-well, technically we’re not supposed to do this… but we have sleeping bags, and a few spare corners leftover if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Thanks.” Peter said with an awkward smile. 

“Cool! I’ll just get you taken care of then. Is this your first visit?” She asked.

Peter hesitated for a moment, but unable to see a problem with the question, responded with a nod.

“Alright then! Right this way.” The girl gestured to another door, away from the sleepers. 

Peter hesitated, looking at her sideways with alarm. “Where to?”

“I’m just going to hook you up with some of our basics. We give all newcomers a backpack, a water bottle, a spare change of clothes, some basic, nonperishable foods, and of course, a gas mask if they don’t have one.” The girl explained. “And the sleeping bag’s on loan.” She eyed Peter’s shoeless feet. 

“...Gas mask?” Peter swallowed. 

“Right. In case of a rogue attack, ya know?” The girl shrugged. “It’s not safe to walk around Gotham without one you know.” 

Gotham? What’s a Gotham? “Oh. Okay. Thank you.” He followed her into the other room and relaxed slightly.

 He could see this room was full of supplies. There were rows of shirts and pants, shoes and socks, and the girl was already approaching him with a backpack and a sleeping bag. 

“The sleeping bag we have to keep, but the rest of this is yours.” She said as she handed both over. “You can pick out two outfits, one pair of shoes, and we rent suits out-well. I guess you’re a little young for that part, sorry.” She said.

“A little young for what?” Peter frowned as he started to pick through his presumed sizes. 

“A job. It’s okay, I’m not going to call CPP on you. No kid shows up in a Crime Alley shelter because they have a good story.” The girl lowered her voice. “Especially if they’re out-of-towners.”

“Mm.” Peter wasn’t sure what else to say. He knew he’d shrunk, but just how bad was it? “Is there a bathroom where I can try some stuff on?” He asked, grabbing two random shirts.

“Oh sure, just down that way.” The girl gestured. 

Stopping only to grab two pairs of sturdy jeans that were hopefully his new size, Peter walked into the bathroom and went straight to the mirror. 

“Oh shit.” A thirteen-year-old Peter Parker looked back at him. 

Chapter Text

When Peter was in first grade, his teacher asked him to hang back after class. He’d fretted all the way until the last bell, thinking himself in trouble. Except instead of telling him that he got a bad grade or did something bad, she handed him a paper requesting an audience with his guardians, and the worry only deepened. After all, how much trouble must he be in for the teacher to want to speak to Aunt May and Uncle Ben? 

By the time the meeting rolled around, Peter was sure his heart had given out at least five times. He was putting the finishing touches on his gravestone when the teacher finally said she wanted to move him into the second grade. 

“He’ll get too bored if he stays here.” She’d explained. “He already spends over half the class just coloring. It only takes him five minutes to do the paperwork. He needs more challenging work.”

Her and his guardians discussed the move for half an hour, long enough that he’d gotten bored of it, before they’d agreed.

Uncle Ben had gotten him ice cream for ‘having such a big brain’.

Years later, when Peter was thirteen, his class was given a field trip to a real science lab. They were researching biology, arachnid biology specifically. It was here that Peter was bit and his life changed forever. 

When Peter was fourteen, he watched the new seventh graders go to the zoo. Now admittedly, even if they had gone to the same lab, the odds of a rogue spider escaping and still biting him were extremely low. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder. 

If Peter had never skipped a grade, he wouldn’t have become Spider-Man. He never would have gone to the lab, never been bit. Would someone else have taken his place then? Would the spider have bit MJ? Or perhaps Ned? Would it have died without biting anyone?

Peter tried to imagine Ned running around as Spider-Man. What costume would Ned have cobbled together? Would Ned have told someone about his new powers? 

He was sure Ned would have. Ned would have told SOMEONE about his secret, wouldn’t have hidden it like he had. 

It wouldn’t have been Peter though. Because Peter wouldn’t have met Ned if he’d stayed in his original grade. 

Once he got to that point in his musings, Peter usually stopped because after that, it just became a spiral of questions. The multiverse had to be huge with all of the what-if’s out there. 

All of this to say, Peter knew very well how incredibly lucky he was to be the one bit. To have been in the right place at the right time. For the spider to bite him and not someone like Flash who probably would have used his new abilities to show-off and get people hurt. At the least, he doubted Flash would have become a hero.

All of this was hard to bear in mind as Peter stared into the mirror at his younger self, the boy who was first bit what, four years ago now? 

Except he didn’t even entirely look like that boy either. Was it the lighting, or were his eyes green-ish now? Not to mention his hair, it had a white streak running over the top, like he’d dyed it. It looked worse than he’d ever seen it with that gunk from earlier tying the strands together, sticking it up in the air.

He looked awful between that green stuff, the sewer dirt, and the dust that caked his skin. It was a wonder that girl had been able to meet his eyes like that, talk to him as normally as if he was any other boy who’d walked in.

Peter ran his fingers through his crusty hair, sniffed them, then gagged. He could still smell the rancid water he’d woken up in. It…disturbed him, seeing himself like this. How he went from hurting -He was more than hurt- on Titan to drowning in a disgusting underground pool, he had no idea. 

But whether he understood what happened or not, he had to deal with it. He just needed to get home, get back to May, find out what happened after he- after he lost consciousness. Tomorrow, he’d be on the first train or bus back to Queens.

As soon as he figured out how to book himself a ticket without money.

Tonight though, tonight he’d be taking a shower because he reeked! 

The rest of the night passed quickly after that, he showered, he found clothes that fit him (and wasn’t that a relief, he could return his stolen ones soon), and he was given a nice spot on the floor. At this point, Peter would have taken anything so long as it was flat. He was so tired and hungry, he could barely listen to the volunteer explain the rules. Something, something, don’t steal from the others, something, something, be back by six if he wanted a bed next time, something, something. 

He’d mumbled an agreement, then collapsed into his sleeping bag. 

He had no dreams at all as he sank into darkness.

The next morning brought chaos with everyone moving around, putting up their beds, helping to set up tables for breakfast. It took him a few minutes of observation before he had the presence of mind to go help. As he worked, the smell of eggs and bacon floated through the air.

It made his stomach growl, reminding him that he hadn’t had dinner last night. He wasn’t even sure when his last meal had been at this point. So as soon as people started to line up for it, he was there, accepting the food and wishing more than anything that they would give him seconds. 

It wasn’t the first time Peter had been on this side of the line. After Uncle Ben died, there had been a brief period where he and Aunt May had been homeless. It took her some time to save up enough to get their apartment in Queens, and it was places like this that kept them from dying. 

Still, going through the line without Aunt May’s comforting presence made a lump of homesickness rise in his throat. The feeling of missing, the sheer WANT to have her at his side, had him sitting and staring at his food for a minute, unable to eat as he combated the wetness in his eyes. 

“You okay, kid?” A male voice shook him out of his daze. 

Peter looked up to see a young, African-American man. He was wearing a volunteer apron and a nametag that read, ‘Hello! My name is Duke’. He was also carrying a tray. A quick glance at the line showed that everyone had gotten their food and now many of the volunteers were hanging around, some of them talking to the other volunteers, some mingling with those they helped, a few others were busying themselves with wiping down counters as they watched the doors for any latecomers.

Peter rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I’m fine.” He mumbled. “Just had something in my eyes.” 

‘Duke’ nodded. “Alright. Well, just so you know, you can talk to any of the volunteers here if you need to, including me. Whatever you’re feeling, anyone here can and will help you if you reach out.” 

“Thanks.” Peter shoved a bite of eggs in his mouth so Duke wouldn’t expect him to keep talking. The eggs tasted like nothing to him, the chewing mechanical.

“No problem.” Duke answered easily. “You mind if I sit here for a moment? I didn’t get breakfast before I left.” He gestured to the tray in his hand. 

Peter shrugged. “Sure.” He said softly. 

“Thanks man.” Duke sat down and started eating, going straight for his own eggs like he was starving. “Mm! The eggs are my favorite part. I don’t know what Mike does to ‘em, but it’s almost as good as what my grandpa makes.”

Peter just nodded and shoved another bite into his mouth. His tray was already over half-empty. He didn’t know if that was a testament to how quickly he was eating or how little they put on it.

Duke looked him up and down, a calculating look in his eyes as he watched Peter eat. “But you know. I can’t say they really give enough out. I get it of course, we gotta feed everyone who comes in here, we can’t always give out big portions.”

Peter nodded again. He already knew what was on his plate wouldn’t be nearly enough for him, but at least it was better than nothing.

“Wanna know a secret?” Duke asked with a wink.

Peter tilted his head to the side, intrigued despite his determination to keep to himself. “What?”

“Go to any public Wayne Enterprises building. They all have a ‘don’t ask’ pantry fully stocked at all times. You can walk in there and grab as much food as you want and no one will say a word to you.” Duke said and took another bite out of his food. 

“Really?” Peter asked, filing the name ‘Wayne Enterprises’ into his mind. He recalled that Wayne had been on the sign outside, but he couldn’t remember hearing the name before. Perhaps the Wayne’s were a local business? Maybe a small-time corporation that had set up shop here?

He did end up engaging in conversation with Duke after that, the man taking Peter’s response as permission to ask questions. Peter didn’t mind as Duke didn’t ask anything too prying. Just simple questions like,

“What do you like to do for fun?” Duke asked as he picked up a piece of bacon.

“Photography.” Peter said. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go into his more science-minded interests.

“Really? That’s cool. My older brother, one of them anyways, does a little photography on the side too.” Duke smiled. “He develops his pictures himself.” 

“That’s really cool.” Peter sighed, a mournful look on his face. “I’ve always wanted to try that, but so far I’ve been stuck with digital and instant.”

As the boys finished their food, Peter hesitated as Duke got up. He had a question in his mind, but he wasn’t sure if he should ask it. It wasn’t an inappropriate question, but he  thought it might have been a little rude anyways, like he didn’t trust Duke’s motives. Still, as Duke started to leave, Peter couldn’t hold it back. 

“Why’d you want to talk to me?” He asked. 

Duke stopped and looked back. He had a thoughtful expression on his face. “Well…I guess I have a few reasons. But the biggest one is probably ‘cause you reminded me of my older brother. A different one anyways.” 

Peter stared, the confusion blatant on his face. He knew that even if he was his normal age, that would still probably be younger than Duke.

Duke laughed in response. “I know. But something about your face… it just made me think of him. And I felt like you might have needed someone. That’s all.” 

Peter nodded slowly. “Okay.” 

Duke turned and walked away. “See you around.” He waved.

Chapter Text

After returning his borrowed clothes, Peter stood in front of the library and looked it up and down. The building itself was an old one, gothic in structure like most of the city had been. It was one of the better buildings around, clean and he could see disability accommodations everywhere. 

It was the first building he’d seen so far that he maybe would find in his own city. It was comforting, in a way. 

He walked into the building, thankful again for the shower he’d taken last night and the clean clothes the shelter gave him. Clean and well-fitted, he could have been any kid coming in for his own business. No one gave him a second look as he approached the front desk. 

“Excuse me?” He called.

A red-haired woman in a wheelchair looked up at his approach and smiled. “Hello, can I help you?” She asked. He noticed a name-tag that read, ‘Barbara’ on her. 

“I’d really like to use the computers? I was told you have some here.” Peter explained, rubbing his hand up and down his opposite arm with nerves. “I…don’t have a library card. Can I use them?”

“Of course! They’re on the second floor, straight across from the stairs.” Barbara scribbled something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “That’s our guest login.” She added. 

“Thanks!” Peter accepted the paper and followed her instructions. 

The computers in the library looked to be a new Windows brand, but Peter tried not to hold it against them. Not every library could be stocked with Stark tech after all. Mister Stark did his best, he donated a lot of his tech to libraries and schools, but he’d said himself that he still had a ways to go. 

Peter sat down and used the login code without any trouble. He smiled at the home screen as he clicked the Microsoft Edge icon. Finally, he could go home. All he had to do was book himself a ticket on the next bus or train.

With Peter’s wallet lost in New York, potentially still hanging in the same spot he’d webbed his backpack but likely not, the only way he could buy a train or bus ticket was to use his memorized card number. He hoped he had enough cash on it for this. He really didn’t want to have to call his aunt for money. Not when she spent enough just keeping him fed and buying replacement backpacks as it was. With his fingers crossed, Peter typed in ‘Amtrak’ and waited for the train site to upload. 

The website didn’t appear. Just a series of websites like ‘Trak Trails’ and train-based Reddit threads.

Peter frowned and double-checked his spelling, but the website still didn’t load. “What…?” 

He typed in ‘Greyhound’, but all that came up was the dog breed. 

Peter stared at the computer and logged out. He shifted his seat over to the next computer, as ridiculous a theory as it was, and tried again. 

Nothing. 

Peter’s mouth dried as he stared at the webpage. This didn’t make sense to him. How could the internet not know Amtrak or Greyhound? Both were nationwide transportation networks! 

Peter put his hands on the keyboard, fingers shaking as he typed in ‘New York City’.

This time he let out a sigh of relief as the familiar map of New York City popped up in images. Peter lightly tapped his pointer finger on the keys as he thought about what to search for next. Maybe both those websites were just…down for some reason. Or maybe there was some sort of blocker on this computer that prevented people from tickets? That didn’t make much sense, but what else could it be? 

If that was the case, then his best bet was to call Happy or Mister Stark. 

…Although he didn’t exactly have either numbers memorized. He’d have to go through the staff then and hope someone remembered him from Mister Stark’s ‘field trips’. 

‘Tony Stark’. 

Random LinkedIn and FaceBook profiles popped up, but nothing on HIS Tony. That was-this is- That’s impossible!

Peter’s breath started to come faster, a horrible theory coming to mind as his fingers flew across the page. He typed in other, familiar, world-famous names, and got back nothing.

The Avengers

Nothing. 

Captain Steve Rogers

Nothing. 

S.H.I.E.L.D.

Nothing. 

Hydra

Nothing.

The Fantastic Four

Nothing. 

Wakanda

Nothing. 

Peter ran through every superhero and superhero organization he knew, panic growing as he continued to get nothing, nothing, nothing back.

Peter Benjamin Parker

Nothing. Not even when he typed in ‘Midtown High’ and ‘Decathalon’, places where he knew his name made the papers because of awards he’d won, (although both at least existed). 

“What the fuck.” Peter stared at the blank screen and tried not to feel like his world didn’t end. 

It wasn’t working very well. 

Peter got up so fast, his chair skidded halfway across the room, but he didn’t notice that. He stumbled across the floor and pushed into the bathroom, a little too much strength coming out. The door slammed into the wall with a BANG that shattered tile. When Peter closed the door, he saw the doorknob was now slightly mangled. 

A part of him cataloged the damage, felt guilty and thought about how to make up for it. 

The rest of him had him crumbling to the ground, clutching his head, and trying not to scream. 

An Alternate Universe. 

It was the only explanation. He’d been sent to some alternate dimension, to a different earth. 

He was never going to get that hug from Aunt May. 

He was never going to see Ned again. 

He was never going to get the courage to confess to MJ. 

He was never going to graduate from Midtown High. 

He was never going to talk to Happy about his patrol.

None of this. Ever again.

No Spider-Suit. No web-shooters. No Tony and Aunt May and Ned and MJ. It was just Peter.

His entire world was lost and Peter didn’t know how he could deal with that alone. 

A high-pitched keening noise rebounded off the bathroom walls. It took Peter a minute to realize it was coming from him. He clapped a hand across his mouth, smothering the noise. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this! 

He rocked himself slowly, back and forth, still strangling the noise in this throat. His eyes burned with unshed tears. He curled himself into a very small ball. 

Peter had lost everything in one fell swoop, all because he couldn’t keep his hands on that stupid gauntlet. Everything was gone and it was his fault, his failure.

He didn’t feel like he could ever get up again. 

As Peter had the thought, he remembered another time he thought he’d be knocked down forever. He remembered an abandoned warehouse, the ease and confidence he’d fought with until the building came down on top of him, just like how his world had fallen apart on him now.

He remembered the suffocating weight of being buried beneath concrete and rebar. Remembered the fear and panic and how he wanted nothing more than for his Aunt to come, for Mister Stark to show up and fix everything. Just like the suffocating weight of his grief was squashing him flat now.

Just like then, just like now, Peter had found himself alone and afraid. But…

But if Peter could lift himself from the warehouse, then maybe he could lift himself from the bathroom floor? 

Peter’s hands shook as he slowly lowered them to the floor, feeling the cold tile beneath his fingers, then his palms. The warehouse had been cold, wet, and rough. The bathroom was cold and smooth. He gasped and stared at the white light above him. There had been no light in the warehouse. The sky on that planet had been yellow. Then he PUSHED and felt himself slide along the wall, standing again on unsteady feet. He breathed, in and out, in and out. He closed his eyes and edged away from the wall until he stood in the center of the bathroom. In and out. In and out.

When he opened his eyes, things were still bad. The weight of grief pressed in on him, but Peter found he could still move. He could move, just like how he’d stumbled away from that warehouse to stop Vulture, he could move out of here too.

One step. Two steps. 

He opened the door and returned to the computers, thankful his backpack was still there. No one had stolen it during his breakdown. 

Mechanically, he picked his backpack up and swung it back on his back. He logged out of his computer and pocketed the guest login for later. 

As he stumbled back out of the library, he noticed the librarian from earlier, Barbara he reminded himself, watching him with concern on her face. He didn’t feel like giving her a reassuring smile, but he tried anyway. 

It wasn’t a good job, but Peter managed to walk out of the library. He just kept walking. He didn’t know where he was going, where he would end up, would probably not even make it back to the homeless shelter in time for dinner, but Peter chose not to think on that for now. 

He just needed to keep walking. As long as he kept moving, he wasn’t lost. He could figure it out from there.

Chapter Text

Tim took a sip of his coffee then tightened the final screw. Putting together the bits of metal and plastic Dick had brought home was difficult to say the least, he was basically trying to put together a 3-D jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces and no picture to tell him what it was supposed to be. Luckily, this kind of thing was his specialty. It had taken him all night, but he had finally put together the device’s simple genius.

The end result was something almost innocuous. The device seemed to hook around a wrist, with two, short tails hanging off it. One tail was a simple button, a trigger mechanism. The other end of the tail was much more complicated, but Tim figured this out too. The long and short of it was that something, most likely the webs Dick reported, about the shape of string would be pushed out of the device at a high speed and cut off by the release of the trigger. There were tiny covers that seemed to cycle around in the device that would change the string somehow. He wasn’t sure how, or how it knew when to cycle though. That secret was lost with the device's destruction.

He’d found several fried batteries in the assembly that he set to the side. The wires, too, were fried. Damage taken not from being shattered he found, nor even from being overloaded by simple electricity. No, these were fried by an incompatible energy of some sort running through it. Tim figured that’s why the devices had been smashed. There hadn’t been another way to get the chemical webs out. 

The real point of concern for Tim though, was how sturdy the device had been created to be. A quick analysis of the devices parts and their ideal configuration showed that it would take a massive force to break it apart. However their mystery person had smashed it apart, it couldn’t have been through ordinary strength. 

Tim could think of several ways he could do it of course, such as throwing a batarang at the device, but then the batarang would have been caught in the resulting web explosion. Dick reported that he was completely unable to open the door from the other side, which meant whatever those ‘webs’ had been, they’d been ridiculously strong themselves so they couldn’t have just ripped whatever they were using out even if they had been trying to muddle the trail here. It was possible that the mystery person had a counteragent to it that would have enabled them to gather the evidence back up, but that sort of resulting damage was the kind of thing Dick would have noticed when he examined the webs. However the device had been smashed, it had to have been both from a distance, and it couldn’t have used any physical object to do it. 

Hm. Did that mean it was smashed through simple strength? If their mystery person was a meta, that would make sense…

“Tim, how long have you been down here?” Dick’s voice interrupted Tim’s musings. 

“A while.” Tim hedged, but it was no good. He hadn’t even changed out of his Red Robin uniform. He could see Dick clocking the evidence.

Dick shook his head. “Go to bed already. This is why you’re the shortest.” 

Tim made a face at Dick. “Don’t you want to see what I’ve found out first?” He offered as a bribe.

Dick raised an eyebrow, no more fooled by the bribe than if Tim had said he was going on a long vacation to Hawaii. “You promised you’d try to sleep more regularly.” Dick reminded him. 

Tim groaned and pushed himself away from his desk. “Fine, fine. Just let me type out my report first, why don’t you?” 

“Alright, but only if you head straight to bed afterwards.” Dick said with a soft smile. He ran a hand through Tim’s hair as he walked up to the suit he’d found the night before. 

“Computer, how’s the analysis on the suit going?” 

“There is no electrical signal coming from the suit.” The computer reported. “Primary analysis indicates that the wires have been damaged.” 

Dick hummed. “So no traps?” 

“No traps have been found.” The computer answered.

Dick nodded, noting to himself that this didn’t mean the suit wasn’t trapped at all. 

“Huh. Just like the devices.” Tim said aloud.

“What?” Dick turned back.

“The devices. Their batteries and wires were fried by some energy, not electricity. Maybe it fried the suit too.” 

“Maybe it was the Lazarus Pits.” Dick wondered aloud. 

“Oh-speaking of-yeah, you were right. The chemical analysis came back last night, there’s Lazarus water in that suit. Whoever wore it had to have gone for a swim in them.” Tim said, going back to typing his report. 

Dick winced in sympathy. “Did you flag it then?” 

“Yeah, ‘course. Everyone knows to be on the lookout for someone about five and a half feet who’s exhibiting signs of Pit Madness.” Tim nodded. 

“Good.” Dick hummed and got back to the suit. With Tim’s mention of the fried devices, he felt a bit more comfortable making assumptions about the suit, so he started the process of deconstructing it.

About ten minutes in, he heard Tim get up and leave the Cave, presumably to his bedroom. 

It took Dick a further hour, but eventually the suit was completely deconstructed. 

“Alright, so first things first. Whoever wore this suit definitely died in it. The likely cause is of a large, sharp object being thrust through their abdomen from behind. I can tell because the hole in the back of the suit is slightly larger than the hole in the front, and the hole doesn’t match any of the expected damage we’d see from a gunshot, nor is there any sign of a splatter pattern for buckshot.” As Dick reported the most glaring fact about the suit, he poked the edges of it and looked for DNA evidence. Unfortunately, the Lazarus Waters had washed away any blood, and there was no face mask to catch hairs from a head. 

Weird. Why have a suit like this but no mask? Did they lose the mask? Were they able to take the mask with them? 

“Computer, leave a note that whoever owned this suit likely has a male biology.” Dick said, noting the presence of a cup. 

“Affirmative.” 

Dick set the tech layer of the suit to the side for Tim to look over later and focused on the cloth. There were two layers of it that had blanketed the tech layer. He found the material to be both soft and stretchy. 

While inspecting the fabric, Dick noted its similarity to the leotards he once wore. There was an emphasis on freedom of movement, which meant whoever wore the suit would have to be someone with a speed and agility-based fighting style like his. 

However, there was almost no armor. It wasn’t bullet-proof, although it held up well to knives. An ordinary man with a knife would be hard-pressed to do much damage, but it wasn’t protective beyond that. 

Dick frowned at the realization, but went back to studying the suit. He found several different functions in it, like a pair of gliding material hidden in the sides and arms of the suit, but the majority of its function seemed to lie in the technology of the suit. Tim would have to run an analysis on that to give them a better idea of what the suit was capable of, though with everything broken, he wasn’t sure how successful his brother would be. 

With that finally done, Dick compiled the new data and went back upstairs. 

“-of course, I checked out what he was looking up.” Barbara was saying to Cass as he entered the main living room. 

“Checked what who was looking up?” Dick smiled as he took a seat beside her.

Barbara smiled back at him, but it was gone too fast as a more worried expression returned to her face. “Hey Dick. I was just telling Cass about a boy who came into the library today.” 

“Oh?” 

She nodded. “Yes. He seemed normal enough at first, just wanted to use the computers. But when he left he seemed…rather upset by something. My shift was about to end so I was going to check on him, then someone reported that the upstairs bathroom had been vandalized.” 

Dick crooked an eyebrow up. “I assume those two facts are connected?” 

Barbara nodded again. “You presume correct. I checked the cameras to find out who did it, and it was definitely the kid. I checked out the damage too. It was pretty minimal, there’s a sizable hole in the bathroom wall and the door handle was mangled. It looked to be from an impact.”

“The door handle on the bathroom wall.” Dick surmised. 

“I assume so. After that, I checked out what he was researching but…honestly, most of it seemed like nonsense.” Barbara frowned. “He looked up a lot of random people’s names, and some rather odd references. Like hydra, the greek monster, and that old Avengers movie.”

Dick hummed and Cass began to sign. Meta kid? 

“Most likely. I just can’t imagine what upset him like that, just from what he was looking up.” 

Can I see the video? 

“Sure. I’m happy for any insights you can make of it.” Barbara agreed, bringing out her tablet. 

“Funny for two different metas with enhanced strength to land on our radar at the same time.” Dick commented. 

Barbara and Cass looked up from the tablet. “Oh?”

Dick nodded. “Tim’s report on the crime scene analysis, he’s convinced that whoever helped with the human trafficking case was a meta of some sort with enhanced strength.”

“Is it possible they’re the same person?”

“Hard to say. About how tall was the kid?”

“Five feet at most, maybe take a few inches.” She said.

”Then probably not. Our estimate suggests he’s at least five and a half feet, based on the suit.”

Neither of them argued. They returned to the video. Dick plopped his head on Barbara’s shoulder to watch.

The grainy black-and-white video could just barely catch a glimpse of the computers, the larger part of it aimed at the nearby stairs. Dick paid close attention as a chair suddenly skidded across the floor, then a young kid, maybe 12 years old, stumbled into view. He nearly ran across the library until he entered the bathroom. The ‘bang’ of the door closing was so loud, Dick found himself wincing with surprise. 

It was then that Cass gave her thoughts. Despair, fear, grief. She slowly signed. Much grief.

“Poor kid.” Barbara said, and Dick agreed. 

Something truly bad had to have happened to the kid for Cass to use those words. But what?

Chapter Text

When Peter started paying attention again, he found himself sitting on a roof in another unfamiliar part of town. The buildings here were cleaner, sleeker, and had less personality. Below him, he could see cars and people striding briskly forward, everyone needing to be someplace right now. This had to be the business district. 

While he’d been dissociating, Peter had plopped himself down on one of the shorter buildings, but even this one had him ten stories up. He must have climbed. He hoped no one had seen him, that he’d avoided the cameras. But he couldn’t be sure. He shifted his eyes to the buildings themselves, and noted that almost half of them had a ‘Wayne’ sign on them. The tip Duke had given him that morning (how long had it been since morning? It was at least past lunch now) rang through his head, but he didn’t really have the energy to chase it down right now. He was hungry, could feel it gnawing at his ribs, but his limbs were too tired to bother getting up. 

He stared at the ground below, head buzzing with no thoughts. Just the low-level hum of thoughts trying to break through the glass. He liked the glass right now. It kept him from thinking too much about everything he’d just lost. Lost, and would probably never get back. Even if he could make something capable of traversing the Multiverse, the amount of power he’d need…not even one Stark reactor would be enough to do it safely, and he wasn’t about to endanger this universe for it. He’d never forgive himself if he got back home by destroying a world. Mr. Stark wouldn’t either, and who could blame him? 

But the thought was there, calculations and theories whispering in his ears like green smoke. Would it matter if they didn’t forgive him, so long as he was home? It suggested. 

Yes. He thought back.

Peter shoved his hands over his ears and stared fixedly at the pavement below. He wished he still had his web-shooters. A swing through the city would probably help clear his head, maybe stop a couple muggings. He’d given them up for a worthy cause, would never regret that, but he was already sorely missing them. 

It would probably be a long time before Peter could make them again. He’d have to use materials from this dimension too, and did they even have all of the necessary elements? It would be just his luck for this universe to come complete with its own periodic table…

Peter laughed for a moment, imagining going to make his web fluid and finding out this dimension had different elements or had never developed the elements he needed. It went on a bit too long, and was just slightly too hysterical. He’d have probably kept laughing too, if he hadn’t been interrupted at that moment.

His spider-sense went off in warning a moment before he heard the crack of metal on stone and a strange sound, like a zipline. 

Peter turned around just in time to see a person in a yellow costume land on the roof. He tensed and jumped to his feet, eyes narrowing. If this guy wanted a fight-!

The costumed person put their hands in the air. “Easy man, I’m not here to hurt you.” He said with a masculine voice that sounded just a bit familiar, but it was hard to tell through the mask.

Peter hesitated, looking the man(?) up and down. His spider sense didn’t go off again though, so he allowed himself to relax. “Then why are you up here?” 

“I could say the same to you.” The costumed man walked forward and took a seat next to where Peter had been sitting. “I was worried you were going to jump.” He said in a softer voice. 

Peter shook his head and nearly laughed. Suicide hadn’t been on his mind at all, but now that the man brought it up, he realized how it must have looked. He’d answered enough suicide calls himself to know that. “No, I just like going to high places when I’m stressed. It makes me feel better.” He said as he sat back down. 

“Ahhh. Can’t blame ya for that I suppose. Not when I spend most-a my time up here.” The man nodded and looked back over the city. “Name’s Signal, by the way. What’s yours?” 

“Nice to meet you, Signal.” He said politely, because even in another dimension he was still May Parker’s son. “I’m Peter.” 

Signal nodded, his fingers tapping on the ground. “You a meta, kid?” 

“A what?” Peter stared. 

“A meta-human.” Signal repeated. 

Peter’s knowledge of obscure facts gifted to him by Decathalon practice kicked in. Meta he knew, was a root word that could mean after, beyond, or change. After human. Beyond human. Change human. Perhaps it was another word for someone who was human but a little bit more? 

“Why do you ask?”

“This roof doesn’t have a fire escape or a door.”

Peter dropped his head into his hands and cursed himself for not paying attention to that. Of COURSE he chose a roof without a clear entrance. Way to stick a tag on him that screamed, ‘I’m not normal!’

He lifted his head and sighed. “Yeah. Little bit.” 

“Yeah, me too. A little bit.” Signal chuckled, and something about the admission had Peter relax slightly. “Odd choice to come to Gotham then.” He added, a little more seriously, but not too much since he followed it up with a joke. “Most metas prefer friendlier climates.”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Peter said, feeling a sharp pain run through his heart at the words. Ain’t that the truth. The more analytical part of himself noted that Gotham must be the name of this city, and remembered that the helpful attendant from last night had also mentioned Gotham. Hadn’t the library also had a sign that said ‘Gotham’?

Maybe he should have put that together a bit sooner, but sue him, he’d been preoccupied.

“You’re from New York right?” Signal asked. “I can tell-the accent.” Peter just nodded in response. “I went to New York once.” Signal nodded and looked up at the polluted sky. 

“Did you?” Peter looked over at Signal, intrigued despite himself. 

“A few times actually. It’s a nice city. You have a little less air pollution.” Signal quirked a smile. 

Peter laughed. “That’s true. I miss it.” The feeling of homesickness pressed in on him, tearing the smile from his face. How could he forget for even a moment that he wasn’t there anymore, and Signal wasn’t just another hero he was meeting for the first time? That he was a hero in a whole other universe?

“Why not go back?” Signal asked, looking at him.

Peter shook his head, wanting to answer, to explain, but finding he couldn’t. There was no way he could explain how he landed in Gotham from another dimension. Even another hero might find that hard to believe and even if he didn’t, there wasn’t much he could do for him. Moreover, even if he decided to just walk to this universe’s New York…there wasn’t anything for him there anymore. No Delmar’s or family, not even his school. Well, sure, it existed and maybe Delmar’s did too, but neither would know him. 

“Fair enough.” Signal looked away. 

Peter took a shuddery breath. “I don’t really know where to go from here. I’ve-” He stopped, reluctant to finish the thought. As nice as Signal was being, Peter didn’t know if he could trust the man. But he had a good vibe, his Spider-Sense was the quietest it’d been since he got here, even if it hummed just a little. Still, after the constant vigilance it’d been maintaining, it made Peter want to collapse with relief. 

Signal let the silence rest between them for a few moments before breaking it. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

“A scientist.” Came Peter’s automatic response. “With a focus on engineering and biology. I was hoping to dual-major actually. Maybe triple, I like physics too. And chemistry, actually. I haven’t figured it all out yet.” 

“So that means you need to go to college someday.” Signal concluded. “You in school?” 

“Not anymore.” 

“Start there.” Signal advised. “Get back in school, study up. Graduate someday so you can go to college. You know, the Wayne foundation offers a lot of scholarships. If you can land one for Gotham Prep, there’s a whole system to get kids boarded there, free food and board no matter their circumstances.” 

Peter looked up at the clouds. He knew it wasn’t that simple, knew he had a real problem without a guardian to take care of him, to verify his existence. He didn’t have a birth certificate here or a social security number to give, wouldn’t pass even a basic background check. Signal had no idea what he was talking about by making it seem that easy. 

But at the same time, he knew he couldn’t be stopped by that. If for no other reason than his Aunt would probably scold him silly if he just flopped down and gave up on all his dreams like this.

Aunt May…would want him to live. She’d be disappointed if he gave up here.

The thought was enough to remind him why he stood back up in the bathroom, why he was able to push the warehouse roof off of himself.

“Thanks Signal.” He said quietly. 

“No problem little dude.” Signal said easily, standing up. “Would you like a ride back down to street level?” He asked, holding a hand out to Peter.

Peter didn’t need one, but since Signal probably knew that too, he didn’t argue. He just stood up and accepted the hand.

Chapter Text

After Signal had set Peter back down on the streets, he’d heeded Duke’s earlier advice and started making the rounds to several Wayne buildings. He didn’t want to take too much from each pantry, just in case there was a limited stock. So it took him a good hour to collect all the food he needed, for now and later, but he managed it eventually. 

He felt a lot better after eating, clear-headed. With that clarity came the beginnings of a plan. First off, he would need an identity of some sort. Second, he needed information, to learn all about this world. Third, Signal was right. He needed to get back into school and graduate. 

Something Aunt May will never see me do.

Peter took a shuddery breath in and out as he headed back for the library. He’d have to use their computers for step one and two. Computer science hadn’t been his specialty, that had been Ned’s, but he knew a thing or two. Enough to get by at least and give the world some reference point for himself. Besides, he didn’t need enough for a full background check like if he was trying to get a job, just enough for a school to let him in. Although how he was going to get an identity that WOULD stand up to that sort of thing was beyond him. 

And fourthly…I need to figure out how to bring Spider-Man back. Even if I have to bring back the hoodie and ski mask look.

Peter stepped into the library and went straight to the computers. He felt a bit guilty when he saw the police tape over the bathroom, but quickly snapped his gaze back to the computers. 

Peter sat down and logged in, taking the time to get the lay of the land here. A quick look at the location settings told him he was in Gotham, and just as he suspected, New Jersey. He made a face of disgust as he pulled up the calendar. Here, he was surprised to find that this world’s time matched up with his world’s. The technology here was so slow and clunky compared to what he was used to that the date completely took him by surprise. Yet there the date stood, marking the day as only a week past his interrupted field trip. 

The bad news was that school must have already started. Scholarship deadlines would have more than likely long since passed too. Maybe not all of them, based on what Signal had said, but… quite a lot.

Peter ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Okay. Well if I’m already late, that just means I have the time to do my research, right? Right.” He nodded, forcing a quick smile to his face. 

With date and location confirmed, the next thing Peter wanted to know was who Signal was. From there, it was a deep dive into the heroes of this world. Peter learned about Gotham’s entire vigilante crew- “Ohhh, that’s what those guys meant by bat…” and the many rogues that run around as well. “And that’s why a gas mask is complimentary at the shelter. Not good.” 

From there, he found out about the Justice League, which led him to browsing their public files, including their financials. “Wow. This Bruce Wayne guy really donates-wait. Wayne. That’s the name I’ve been seeing everywhere!” Peter snapped his fingers and quickly looked the man up. 

Hundreds of articles came up; articles that detailed Bruce getting drunk, articles speculating on his latest date, articles talking about the many children he’s adopted, and on and on it went. 

Peter found himself frozen, staring at a picture of one of Bruce’s wards giving a speech. “That’s not…how…?” He right-clicked on the image, zoomed in, but the face didn’t change. 

“...Dad?” 

Richard Grayson-Wayne smiled at him through the photo, and all Peter could think of was the name Richard Parker. His fingers moved without his prompting, typing the name in and pulling up articles. 

He learned his father had been orphaned when he was twelve in this universe. That he was taken in by Bruce Wayne afterwards. He learned about his public charity work. That he had been a police officer in some city called Blüdhaven (And what kind of name was that? It sounded like the kinda place where massacres happen on the daily) for seven years but now offered gymnastics classes at a community center there. He even found out his father had been invited to join the Olympics team but had declined.

Peter devoured information about this universe’s version of his father, he couldn’t stop. In his own universe, he lost his parents in a plane crash when he was only six. His memories of his father were frustratingly little. He could remember how his father gave the warmest hugs, the best ones. Even a hug from Aunt May was only a close second. He could remember his father holding his feet through a handstand. In his mind, he always thought of his father as an older man in his forties. If you had asked him when he was little how old his father was, he would have said 46 like that was the most obvious answer in the world, and not incredibly incorrect. Yet here, staring at the threads of his father’s life, he was forced to remember. 

Richard Parker had only been 22 when he died. He’d been a teenage dad doing the best he could for most of Peter’s childhood. 

The “Richie” Grayson-Wayne of this universe had celebrated his 33rd birthday several months ago. Reporters took pictures of him at the park with his two young children and ex-wife. 

Reading that felt like lightning had burst through his veins. His dad had KIDS here. Were they technically siblings even though he was from another dimension? He wanted to say yes. He wanted to show up at their doorstep and be part of the family. That was his DAD and-

And it was never going to happen. 

Peter cleared his search history and plopped his head on the desk. He took deep breaths, trying to cool the fire in his eyes. His dad was here, and Peter could never see him. He couldn’t. If he ever approached-even tried to explain-no. The rejection he’d receive would hurt too much if he tried. 

After all, why would anyone hear the words, “I’m your son from another dimension,” and think, “Welcome home son,”?

He told himself that and repeated it. Several times. In multiple languages even. In Italian, in Spanish, in Hebrew, and Mandarin. There was simply no way he could approach this universe’s version of his father. He ran his hands through his hair. Then he opened his eyes.

One quick Google search and several minutes of hacking later, and the New Jersey public transportation system had booked one ticket for Peter Parker, going from Gotham to Blüdhaven tomorrow morning. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

That done, Peter got to work on creating an identity for himself. He managed to sign into a New York City courthouse and craft a fake birth certificate, put in his own name and birthday, then remembered he was no longer seventeen, and changed his birth year to 2005. He tried signing into a federal government site then, but the firewalls had been too good. He had to give up there. Afterwards, he registered himself as a transfer to a public school in Blüdhaven, which required creating a school transcript from another school. Peter made himself a home-schooling record and listed a New York address as his previous address, figuring there was no way he could hide his accent. 

When it was time to fill out a guardian name, Peter wrote down Benjamin and May Parker. Even though they didn’t technically exist here, Peter couldn’t bring himself to deny them. They were the people who raised him and that would always be true. 

With all of that done and the library’s closing time inching ever closer, Peter devoted the rest of his twenty-three minutes to researching Blüdhaven. 

I’m an idiot. But at least I can be an INFORMED idiot. Peter thought as he pulled up the Blüdhaven Municipal website.

Chapter Text

Peter stared out the bus window, studiously ignoring the other people on the bus. This was made extremely difficult, because the closer the bus got to its final destination, the louder and more alert his Spider Sense grew. He’d only just gotten used to the low-level hum of Gotham, and the pitch was rising. 

Whose idea was it to make Gotham the crime capital of America when Blüdhaven exists?

The new city streets came into view about half an hour after leaving Gotham and Peter swallowed as his eyes noted the cracked sidewalk, the carelessly thrown trash, and a gang watching the bus with undeniable interest. He clutched his backpack tighter to himself and tried not to breathe too hard. The air pollution here in Blüdhaven seemed to be even worse than Gotham. He’d known this city was so much worse off, had read all the statistics on crime and pollution before the library had closed. Still, confronted with the reality of it, a part of Peter wanted to turn around and run back to Gotham. 

Instead, as the bus pulled to a stop, Peter grabbed his backpack and filed off with everyone else. Once in the outside air, Peter had to fight to hold down his breakfast from the shelter. The sharp chemical smell made him want to throw up.

The other people who rode the bus with him scattered as soon as they were off, some heading towards a nearby parking lot and others just walking. Knowing that indecision was something gangs would pick up on, Peter picked a random direction and started walking.

As Peter walked, he noticed that most of the buildings appeared almost new. Like something had destroyed the entire city and then rebuilt it. It reminded him of what happened after the Battle of New York but on a larger scale. The brief amount of research he’d done into the city hadn’t told him about what happened though, just mentioned the rebuilding being a work in progress but ‘The city is thriving!’. So for now, he put the observation in the back of his mind and refocused.

Peter tried to follow the majority of the crowd around him. Doing that prompted him to notice several things about those he followed. He saw almost no smiles around him. People hurried towards their destinations without lingering. There was a callous confidence to the way certain people observed the crowd. As if they weren’t worried about being spotted at all. 

Shifting his backpack more securely over his shoulder, Peter took a turn into the first alley that didn’t set his Senses screaming and quickly scaled the building. From above, Peter took a deep, chemical-laden breath. His Spider-Sense quieted somewhat now that he was no longer so exposed, but the hum of it was still there. That was concerning to him. If even getting up high wasn’t enough to make him safe, where could he be safe here? 

Shoving the thought to the side, Peter began to free-run over the rooftops, looking for a place he could hole up and claim for his own. Any abandoned building would do for him, he just needed something stable that wouldn’t collapse in the next rain… and preferably had some privacy for him to work from.

Though the city he’d come to was newly built, it hadn’t been treated with any care. Peter soon found a stretch of empty buildings that had been vandalized. The people he saw here were less put together than they’d been at the bus station, so Peter figured he’d managed to make it to the poor side of town. Now all he had to do was find and claim an empty building. Or at least a building with spots that would be hard for an unenhanced person to break into.

Peter snooped around, investigating any building without signs of life. The actual houses were out, but eventually he found a corner store that looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Stepping into the charred lobby, Peter eyed the glass on the ground before making for the back. 

The stairs had been destroyed by the blast so he climbed the wall to the second floor. Here, he found the building was in a little better condition, but not by much. He opened the first door he saw, into a front-facing living room that would have been above the explosion, but didn’t go in as his Spider-Sense pinged in warning. The floor was bad, and the only thing he found in here was a rug. He ended up dragging that into the hall, careful not to put his weight on the floorboards. It wasn’t exactly a necessary choice, but a rug to sleep on sounded like a much better idea than the floor, or it could be used as a blanket if he got lucky and found a bed left abandoned. 

At the very least, it’d make the room feel a bit homier.

The next door he opened was a bathroom across from the first door. The water wasn’t running when he checked, but he knew there was a community center. He could just take showers there… although that could be problematic if he got injured on patrol…

Next to the bathroom, the third door he checked opened into a kitchen. Again, none of it worked without electricity and water in the building, but it at least made a space where he could sleep. The floor didn’t set off his spider sense which made sense. This part of the building was away from where the explosion had happened, so the floors were still solid.

The next door was a linen closet at the end of the hall and Peter smiled as he found a couple blankets and several towels that had been abandoned there. These, he could definitely put to good use. Even if they were a bit moldy, a trip to a laundromat should fix that up.

The final door was next to the living room and opened into a small bedroom. A nightstand had been left in the room, pushed up against the window. If there had been curtains, Peter would have been tempted to make this his bedroom, especially with the carpet on the floor. But he didn’t want anyone knowing he was living here, or for any nosy neighbors to spot the addition of curtains if he added them for privacy. He just couldn’t risk it. 

Peter brought the nightstand, rug, and small collection of blankets and towels into the kitchen. The cloth items smelled bad and the nightstand’s leg broke off when he set it down, but it was his and it would do for now. 

“Home sweet home.” He said with a wry smile as he set up a little nest for himself. “Now all I need is a chair and this place would be perfect.” 

He knew there was more work to be done. He needed to secure the staircase for example, make sure no one would be coming up it and surprising him in the middle of the night. Just because the physical stairs were gone didn’t mean someone couldn’t figure out a way if they were desperate enough.  And at some point, he really did want to go back to being Spider-Man, which meant making new webshooters and crafting another costume. But for now, this would do. 

The rest of the day, Peter decided he would look for money and food. He needed to know where any shelters and food pantries were if he was going to survive here. The free school lunch he’d managed to scam his way into getting would only get him so far, especially with his metabolism.

At least, that was the plan. It didn’t work out very well as every two steps he took, he found either himself confronted by another gang, or he found someone else being harassed by a gang. 

If it was himself, he could handle it without a problem. He wasn’t too prideful not to run away after all, and he was at that age where people weren’t surprised at him being fast so it didn’t even give away his powers. But when he saw them harassing other people, he just couldn’t do it. He had the power to stop these guys, so he had to do it. He just couldn’t walk away and let someone die, never again.

Maybe not having a mask should have been a good reason to stay out of things, but it wasn’t good enough for him. Not when the stakes were so high. So when he turned a corner and found a man pointing a gun at another man’s head, Peter threw his hood on and charged in anyways. 

“You know, if you’re looking for an ATM, you’d probably have better luck down the street than bothering this guy. Or did you need directions?” Peter quipped as he kicked the gun out of the mugger’s hand.

“Fuckin’- get outa my way!” The man shouted as he reeled back, his other hand clutching the one Peter had just kicked.

It was men like this that took away your uncle. A familiar anger hissed, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and a film of rage over his eyes. He hadn’t felt this anger in such a long time, not since he was originally thirteen and pissed off, looking for vengeance for his uncle… and maybe hoping for redemption for himself. 

He’d thought he’d accepted what happened to his uncle, his hand in that fate. 

He’d thought he’d turned around to make something good come out of that, to be the person he should have been that night every day moving forward. 

But something about the situation-maybe it was him being thirteen again, maybe it was the sight of the gun-but whatever it was, it made that pain feel fresh. 

“Stop! Wait, please! I’ll stop! I’ll turn myself in, just stop!” The man in front of him begged, his arms up in surrender, blood dripping from his nose as his eyes were already swelling up. The gun he’d been using had skidded over the alley floor. The man he’d saved was long gone. 

Peter’s fist rose in the air, the urge to just keep hitting making them tremble. He wanted to, fuck he wanted to! If he hadn’t come here- if he hadn’t been searching for food- how many good men would have died at this man’s hands? How many uncles would never come home? 

But Spider-Man wasn’t a killer. And Peter knew redemption existed, knew it the way he knew Vulture had never told anyone his identity. 

Vulture had tried to kill him, had put so many people in danger with those weapons, and with Peter’s identity in hand, he could have ruined Peter’s life for putting him in jail.

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t spoken a word.

Peter thought about Liz then, how she still loved her dad despite what he’d done. How she still visited him, talked about him, still believed in him despite it all.

Was there a Liz waiting for this man back at home?

It was that thought that finally gave him the strength to unclench his hand from the man’s shirt. 

The man breathed a sigh of relief. 

Peter knocked him across the head, rendering him unconscious for the police.

His breath came fast, faster than it should for such an easy fight. His heart was POUNDING. An electric urge to just keep hitting raced through his arms. 

Peter stumbled backwards. What’s happening to me?  He ran from the alley and didn’t stop until he found a bench to collapse on. It was a bus station, a reasonable place for someone to wait, so he figured he was safe enough to take a second. 

Why was he so angry? 

Well. Okay. He’d been shrunk, shot into another dimension, and he’d never see any of his loved ones again. Sure. That made sense. 

But it’s not like he was blaming anyone for that, except maybe Thanos. 

But it wasn’t like he’d suddenly decided people weren’t worth…life. 

He remembered fighting the Vulture. When he’d tried to fly away on smoking wings that Peter knew were about to blow up. How it had taken everything in him to save the Vulture. 

He didn’t regret that. Not even a little bit. He could never have faced Liz at school the next day if he’d killed her father, even if only by failing. 

And he knew every person he’d fought today had a Liz or a wife, or just a good buddy. Someone who would miss them. 

Peter didn’t understand why he’d been so angry, why he hadn’t wanted to stop.

It scared him.

Chapter Text

Blüdhaven Middle School was no Midtown High. It was as new as all of the buildings Peter had encountered so far, but the outside was filthy, windows smudged with the hundreds of hands that pressed against them, and the floors were slick with dirt. The lockers weren’t very secure either, so Peter decided to just keep everything in his backpack. It wasn’t like he couldn’t carry the weight after all. 

“Alright Mr. Parker, here is your new schedule, a map of the school. If you need anything, our guidance counselor is usually in her office. You qualified for free lunches, but if there’s a price tag on it, it doesn’t count so bear that in mind. You are allowed to bring your backpack to class, however the teachers can and will search it if they suspect you of bringing a weapon in.” The secretary rattled the information off very quickly. “Any questions?” 

Peter shook his head. “No ma’am.”

“Good. Off with you then.” She waved and took back her seat, completely dismissing Peter’s presence there. 

Despite that, Peter nervously waved back before exiting the office. He took a seat on the bench outside and looked over both the schedule and the map, matching his classes to the rooms.

The classes were as expected. In order, he had Social Studies, then Algebra, English, Advanced Physical Sciences, a break for lunch, Study Hall, and he’d end the day with Gym. 

Considering Peter had been in High School in his previous dimension, the only class he was even remotely worried about was Social Studies. This world had to have a different history than his own. If it wasn’t for that, he probably would have registered for High School instead. But if he was really stuck in this world… Peter didn’t want to have to worry about a bad grade in that class messing with his GPA (Aunt May had always stressed how important it was to keep that up, even in his Freshman year), so eighth grade it was. 

Peter stood back up and made his way to class. 

The bell rang as he approached, causing Peter to flinch and cup his hands over his ears. In response, the flood of students broke off from their groups and went to their own classrooms. As soon as the bell stopped, Peter entered his Social Studies class and stood at the back, not wanting to accidentally take someone else’s seat. 

That’d be one way to get on someone’s bad side right away, stealing their seat. Peter should know, that was what happened at his first day of decathlon practice and Flash had made it his mission to make Peter’s life miserable ever since.

Five minutes after the first bell, a second one went off, but this time Peter was prepared for it and was able to plug his ears. Seconds later, a blonde man strode into the room. 

“Alright class, you know the drill. Notebooks out, pencils at the side-Ah, Mr. Parker. I was told we had a new student. Take a seat, there-” He gestured to a seat right in front of his own desk and Peter hurried over. “-should be fine since no one sits there.” He cleared his throat. “To recap for Mr. Parker’s benefit, every Monday I throw a little current events prompt at everyone. You have five minutes to respond to it, any way you feel like, it just has to be a coherent opinion rooted in your understanding of the world. Capiche?” 

Peter nodded. “Yes, sir.” He said quietly, inwardly panicking. He’d only been in this world for two days, how was he supposed to have an opinion on it?! He grabbed a notebook (a trash find he’d barely managed to dig out of a dumpster the day before, only half-filled in) out of his bag and quickly snagged a pencil from a little cup that said, ‘Take one, but please give back’. 

“Great. Now, for today’s prompt, I want everyone to consider some pros and cons about the Meta-Human Rights Act.” The teacher, Mr. Tarone, Peter recalled from the schedule, said.

Peter tapped his borrowed pencil against the side of his desk as he quickly tried to figure out what the Meta-Humans Rights Act even was. 

If the act had Meta-Human rights in the title, that had to mean it was some sort of-protective act right? But who was it protecting? What if it was an act that limited the rights of meta-humans?

The idea brought to Peter’s mind the Accords he’d been living under for three years now. Did this world have its own version of the Accords? Did it go the opposite way? 

Fuck, he really didn’t know the answer.

Staring at his paper, Peter couldn’t help but think of M.J. If she was here, he knew she’d have had more to say about it. If it was M.J. here, she’d probably already have an entire essay written out, with citations to boot. The first thing she would have done in this world was probably look up things like this so she could protest about it if she didn’t like it. 

Even as his eyes burned at the reminder of home, a smile cracked his face as he remembered M.J. ranting about the Accords. She had a whole copy of the law annotated and highlighted from beginning to end, detailing every single human rights violation they had. More than once, he’d sat on his bed while M.J. paced in front of him and fumed over it. It was all too easy to imagine her doing it here too.

Peter took a deep, shuddering breath. M.J. wasn’t here, and he had a quiz to answer. A blank answer was just as wrong as an incorrect answer, he could look up the act later but he needed to give some sort of answer now. Something vague enough that no matter which way the Act itself went, his answer would still seem reasonable…

‘Meta-Humans should be protected’, he wrote. ‘They shouldn’t have to hide who they are and what they can do just because some people might be scared of them.’

It didn’t fully answer the question, but it was better than nothing and more than anything, it was what Peter truly believed…

Even if the answer didn’t really apply to him.

He carefully tore the paper out of his notebook, making sure to tear out only the bit he’d already written on, before folding it in half and writing his name on the back. 

In the back of his notebook, he made a note to check out the Act. 

After that, the rest of the school day went similarly. Peter got to his classes on time since he’d quickly memorized the school layout, the teachers would show him a seat that was usually in the front of the class since no one else wanted to sit there, and then he’d have normal school stuff to concern himself with. 

It was a day. Despite how bad the school looked and how confused he felt in Social Studies, it was still just school and Peter had more than enough experience with that. Schools were normal, just enough so that he found himself relaxed even through those high-pitched rings that had him plugging his ears.

The people were different though, and that…Peter wasn’t sure how to handle that. His aunt would tell him to make friends, talk to people, but… well. No one here could ever come close to meaning as much to him as Ned or M.J. had. He wasn’t sure how he could even let them try, especially when he had to keep it under wraps that his identity was about as flimsy as salami. School-cafeteria salami, specifically. 

The kids at this school didn’t really seem to care about him, although several times Peter noticed bigger kids looking at him with glittering eyes. Eyes that were sizing him up. Peter wasn’t afraid of them of course, not even the worst bully could possibly faze him after he stared down Thanos. None of them even had the strength to actually hurt him after all, and they barely pinged on his spider sense. It was really annoying though, he’d really hoped he could avoid getting the attention of someone like Flash this time around. 

No, he wasn’t afraid, but he still had an identity to maintain so when the glittery-eyed students followed him out of the cafeteria, Peter widened his eyes and played scared as they pushed him around. He rolled with the blows instead of sticking, and he didn’t shove back as they threw him to the ground. He curled around his backpack and made the normal pained sounds as one of the kids started kicking his back. 

“Hey! You three! What do you think you’re doing?!” A voice shouted. 

“Shit-” 

“Scram!” 

The kids scattered and Peter allowed himself to relax. His back felt a little sore, but with the actual meal he’d gotten, Peter was sure he wouldn’t even bruise. Not from some dumb bullies who didn’t even have enhanced strength.

“Are you okay kid?” The voice from earlier asked, much closer now. Strange. Why hadn’t he heard him approach? 

The thought prompted another. His spider-sense had stopped tingling. Like he felt safe, truly safe, for the first time since coming to this dimension.

“ ‘M fine.” Peter opened his eyes-and caught his breath. 

His dad stood above him, one hand offered to him, and a sympathetic look in his eyes. “Are you sure? They didn’t look like they were holding back.” He asked.

Peter stared, unable to answer. His eyes raked over his dad’s face, searching for himself in his features, some undeniable proof that this was his dad. 

He’d always had his mother’s coloring, he knew. He had her brown hair, doe eyes, and paler skin. Whereas his father was much darker, with black hair, brown skin, and piercing blue eyes. 

Looking at Richard’s face however, Peter could see… he had his dad’s nose. 

The same ears. 

The same curved jaw. 

Peter forced a breath into his lungs, nodded, and accepted the hand, allowing his dad to pull him to his feet. He rolled his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m okay.” He said, trying to hide how breathless he felt. 

His dad. Was here. Right in front of him. His dad had just saved him. 

His dad had no idea who he was. 

“All the same, you should go see the nurse here. I can help you over there?” He offered. 

Peter shook his head. “No thanks. I’ll- I’ll just go there by myself.” He said with a step back. He couldn’t quite stop his eyes from roaming, looking his father up and down, desperate to drink in the sight while it lasted. 

The sympathy in the man’s eyes changed to something more calculating. “It wouldn’t be a problem for me.” He said softly. “I need to report those students anyways.”

“You don’t look like a teacher.” Peter said, not sure how else to change the subject. 

“Hm? Oh. No, I’m not. I work at the community center.” His dad said with a small laugh. “We’re working on getting a mentoring program off the ground so I was on my way to the office to work out a few more details.” 

“That’s… that’s pretty cool.” Peter said, remembering what M.J. had told him about how effective mentoring programs were in helping kids. Particularly ones from troubled neighborhoods where stable homes were rare.

His dad beamed like Peter had just given him a million dollars. “I think so too! But I’m afraid I don’t know the school very well, it’d be a big help if you could show me the way to the office.” The look on his face was all innocent, but as Peter looked at the man, a part of him wondered if it was an act to make sure he went to the nurse’s office. 

Still, he hadn’t been raised to refuse someone asking for help, so Peter sighed and nodded. “Sure. I can show you there.” 

“Great! What’s your name, by the way?” His dad asked, walking to stand next to Peter. 

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” He said.

“Nice to meet you Peter! I’m Richard Grayson. Most people call me Dick.” The man grinned. 

“I am legally not allowed to call you that.” Peter said, unable to hide a laugh. 

His dad- Richard laughed. “Trust me kid, I’ve heard it all.”

Chapter Text

Duke yawned as he put the last of his gear up. The daylight shift was finally over, thank goodness for that! Weekend’s were fun, he loved having the time to do some volunteering before getting to work, but there was hardly ever any time to rest during them, what with the entire city also having more time than usual to get into trouble. Usually he could manage it well enough, he’d been a vigilante for several years now after all, but Saturday had been… strange to say the least. He hadn’t been able to go a single block without having to intervene in something, and his on-the-go burrito had been ice-cold before he’d had any time to eat it.

By the time evening had finally settled over the city, he’d been so tired that he’d utilized his ‘I’m the good kid’ privilege to skip his report writing, heading straight to bed rather than put himself through another hour of summing up everything that happened. 

Note to self, ask Tim to backdate my reports when he gets back so B doesn’t find out.

The rest of the bats and birds were gearing up for the night shift all around him, and he let his eyes trail around the room. It looked like everyone was here, except Dick of course. He’d gone back to Blüdhaven just an hour ago. He was about to leave it at that when he realized someone else was missing. 

“Where’s Bruce?” He asked Tim. 

“He got called into an emergency Justice League Meeting.” Tim answered. “That was…two hours ago now.” He added with a quick glance at a clock. “I haven’t had a chance to hack their meeting minutes and figure out what that’s about yet. I’m still trying to figure out that weird suit we found.” 

“Should you be casually admitting to hacking Justice League files…?” Duke asked instead of asking, ‘what weird suit?’

Tim stared blankly. “Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. 

“Never mind, never mind.” Duke laughed it off as he took off his last boot. Tim was going to do what Tim was going to do, and hacking the JL just because Bats were trained to be nosy was literally the least of his crimes. “So, any new cases I should be aware of?” He asked casually. 

Tim stopped as he was clipping on his cape. “That’s right. Have you accessed the Batcomputer at all today?” 

Duke shook his head. “I’ve been busy.” He hedged, not wanting to admit last night’s slip-up while he was surrounded by his siblings. Damian would never let ‘such sloppiness’ go if he found out… Although, come to think of last night, he really needed to do a quick search on any Peter’s from New York who recently moved to Gotham. He was worried about the kid he’d talked to yesterday, both in and out of costume. He was so…despondent. Even after he realized Peter wasn’t going to kill himself, he still felt like there was something deeply wrong. 

He’d seen Peter at the shelter again this morning, wolfing down his food and rushing out the door like he’d had places to be. Honestly? The sight had relieved him a little. Action suited the kid a lot more than sitting around on rooftops, and it gave Duke hope that Peter had made a plan to take care of himself.

He’d just… like to be certain that was the case.

“A couple new cases have been opened, well, a lot more than two, but that’s just Gotham.” Tim said, jerking Duke back to the world of the living. He followed Tim out of the locker room. “A couple of new metas are on our radar now, we’re trying to track them down and figure out their story. Once you sign into the Batcomputer, you should see them-”

“Automatically, I know.” Duke said wryly, rolling his eyes a little at the unnecessary reminder. Every Bat knew that when a new case or file that wasn’t marked solved right away was added to the Batcomputer, they were always pushed to the front when a new user accessed it. It was just one of the ways Bruce insisted on them remaining aware of everyone else’s cases. Just in case there ended up being overlap or someone found a clue while they were out. 

Tim smirked a little as he finished suiting up. “See you in the morning.” He said as he walked away. “Damian, you’re with me tonight.” He called across the cave. 

“Tt. If you insist.” Damian grouched, but Duke knew he didn’t imagine the smile that flickered across the younger’s face as he headed towards the Robincycle.

Cass hooked arms with Steph, who grinned back. There was a mischievous look in their eyes as they watched Tim walk to the Red Bird. Duke would bet his allowance they’d done something. Was this the start of another prank war? 

He stifled a chuckle and made his way to the computer as everyone left. 

The first case that popped up was named ‘Webs’, and it theorized about the possible presence of another meta hero in Gotham. They didn’t know much yet, other than they’d clearly been exposed to the Lazarus Pits, had enhanced strength, male biology, and were around five and a half feet going off of their costume. 

Reading the files, Duke had to ask WHY the meta’s suit had been found under a bed in the shelter. Could this new meta be homeless? Another almost victim? He added the note in, just in case everyone had gotten so caught up in who the Meta was that they forgot to ask why he was there. 

The second file caused Duke to catch his breath. Because that was PETER, a still shot taken from a library camera. The file was low priority, they didn’t know what was going on with this kid after all, but a note suggested he might be in danger or had suffered a great loss recently. Possibly both. 

Duke sighed. He’d known something had been going on with the kid, but for him to land on the Bats radar like this…

He typed in what little he knew about Peter. His name, obviously, that he’d stayed at the Martha Wayne Foundation shelter in Crime Alley last night and the night before. That sometime after the library incident, he’d found Peter on a roof halfway across town and that the New Yorker had confessed to being lost with nowhere else to go and stated that he was no longer in school but wanted to be a scientist. 

It wasn’t much, all told. But it was painting a grim picture of a meta kid who needed help. And Duke knew all about being that. 

But he couldn’t do anything right now, he needed to rest. Peter was most likely back at the shelter, Duke would just have to catch up with him tomorrow before school. After compiling the rest of his reports, he went to bed. 

~~~~~~~~

Back in Blüdhaven, Dick had just arrived at his apartment. He wasn’t staying long of course. Just long enough to get changed into his Nightwing gear and get to work. Yet as he arrived, he noticed his balcony door was cracked open. Either Kori was paying him a visit, or someone had broken in. 

Dick liked his chances either way honestly. The great thing about being a known former police officer and acroBat, was that no one was surprised when he took down a petty criminal with a little…style. 

Dick entered his apartment, still half-expecting to be attacked. Instead, he saw his kids passed out on the sofa, TV light flickering over their faces, while Kori stood by the window. She smiled as he entered. “Dick. I have been waiting for you.” 

“I can tell.” Dick smiled as he walked towards his armchair. His hand ran through his daughter’s hair, then his son’s, before he sat down. “What’s up? It’s your week to have the kids.” 

Kori nodded. “Me and the Titans are being called off-planet for a mission. I will not be able to take care of them until we are back.” 

Privately, Dick cheered. Having more time with his kids? Christmas had come early this year! Outwardly, he tried not to smile TOO broadly. He knew Kori hated losing time with them, and he didn’t want to rub it in too badly. “Any idea when you’ll be back?” He asked. 

“It is expected to take at least two weeks.” She answered. 

Dick nodded. “So don’t freak out until it’s been a month, got it.” He smiled. “I’m sure the kids will love spending some time with Alfred.” 

Kori pouted. “I do not like it. Every time you bring them to Alfred, they come home and ask me why I cannot make cookies as well as he does.” She playfully complained. 

Dick laughed. “It’s Alfred magic. No one can compete.” He joked back. 

Kori returned his smile, and for a moment, it was if things hadn’t changed between them at all. They were husband and wife, united. Then the moment passed. Dick got up and carefully plucked his children from the couch. Looked like Blüdhaven would have to go without its protector tonight, there was no way in Hell Dick would be patrolling and leaving his kids home alone. His apartment was secure, but not by THAT much. 

“I’ll take care of them.” He promised as he passed by her.

“I know.” Kori kissed his cheek, then flew out his window, light emanating from her hands and feet as hot air blasted the hair out of his face. Dick let his window remain open until she vanished into the distance, then used his foot to close it. 

“Come on little monkeys, let’s get you to bed.” Dick whispered. He nudged Jake’s bedroom open, placed his son in the crib, then he placed Mar’i in her own bed in her room. 

Dick watched Mar’i rest for a few moments, smiling. He loved his kids, adored them really. Sometimes he liked to think of how little twelve-year-old him could never imagine something like this happening. The Dick that was full of fire and vengeance, that thought he’d never have a family again. 

Sometimes…sometimes he wanted to go back in time and tell him he would. That someday he would have two of the most amazing, brightest kids in all the world. That before that, he would gain a bunch of siblings. So many he would start to tease Bruce about having an adoption instinct. That sometimes he would fail them, but sometimes…sometimes he would be the one to catch them. 

He’d tell little Dick about the brother that was almost a son. The sisters he’d never dreamed of. About train surfing with his younger brothers. About the Grandfather who always stood there with a gentle hand and a stern voice. 

But Dick, of course, could not go backwards in time. He could only go forwards. (Unless there were time travel shenanigans at play, but that didn’t count. He wasn’t even allowed to talk to his younger self when that happened!)

Dick turned the TV off and went to bed. Tomorrow, he had to make a run over to the Middle School, get that Mentorship program off the ground. And of course, he’d have to make an appearance as Nightwing at some point. He would need to find a babysitter and make sure his kids were safe while he was at work… maybe one of his siblings could spare a few days? Tim could attend board meetings remotely, couldn’t he? Or perhaps Damian would enjoy the excuse to have some time off school…

But all of that was for tomorrow. Tonight, tonight he would sleep for a change. Safe, happy, and with his family. What more could a Grayson ask for?

Chapter Text

Dick hadn’t expected to meet Barbara’s library kid at Blüdhaven Middle School, or that when he did, the kid would be in the middle of getting the crap kicked out of him by bullies, but he was pretty pleased now that he had. There hadn’t been much to go off of other than his appearance and apparent meta abilities, and his search history.

Now Dick knew that his name was Peter, and that his meta abilities definitely came with enhanced durability. That wasn’t too surprising since durability often went hand in hand with strength, but it was always good to have it confirmed.

Mostly because the kid was an awful actor, pretending to hold himself stiffly, (and yet relaxing everytime he forgot about it) and when someone bumped into his side- the same side the bullies had been kicking- the kid didn’t even gasp, or say ‘ow’. It was incredibly obvious the kid was just pretending to be in pain for his benefit. 

He knew how important it was for metas to pass below the radar, that calling him out in the middle of the school hallway would be practically serving him up to meta traffickers so he said nothing, just kept up their steady, quiet conversation as he tried to get a feel for Peter’s school life and if this was a regular occurrence. 

Peter was… vague, with his answers, and he kept trying to flip the conversation back on Dick. Unfortunately for Peter, Dick had already had a couple decades to master subtle interrogations in the guise of conversation, he knew how to stay on topic without seeming weird. 

With that, Dick got a few more details about what he just saw to use for his report, both to the school about the incident and to add to Peter’s file. He learned that Peter was new to the school and that this was the first time he’d been attacked like that, nor did he know the names of those who’d been hurting him which wasn’t… ideal. But Dick could figure it out, all he’d have to do was hack the school to see the student files and go through them one by one until he found the pictures of the bullies he saw. He’d probably even get lucky and find them soon if he started with eighth grade pictures, those kids had definitely looked big enough to be in eighth at least.

…Provided none of them were held back a grade or two…

After learning everything he could about the incident, Dick moved the conversation onto the next concerns: Peter’s parents. 

Peter froze, wide-eyed, staring at Dick with an expression of such deep hurt, as if Dick had shot him right then and there. It was grief, but there was something else to it. Dick knew grief, knew how it could eat a person alive and what it looked like in the mirror, but there was something more complicated about Peter’s grief. It was almost…longing? In a way? As if Peter was grieving something right in front of him?

Peter swallowed, he breathed, he made a conscious choice to regulate himself, and said, “My aunt May’s the best. She’s always taken care of me the best she can, even when I don’t make it easy on her.”

This, Dick could believe. It wasn’t a lie or an act, it wasn’t even the dodging Peter had done this entire time. He could see how much love Peter held for his aunt, written in his voice, on his face. 

But there were only so many reasons an aunt would be his answer when asked about his parents, none of them good.

Dick softened his voice as he answered, “It sounds like she’s a really special person in your life.” 

“She is.” Peter said, his voice cracking just slightly on the ‘is’. They were silent for a few seconds and this time, when Peter tried to change the subject, Dick allowed it. 

“So… why’d you decide to start a mentoring program?” He asked shyly. His hazel eyes were shining with something, the same something that had popped up intermittently throughout their conversation, but Dick couldn’t quite put a name to it.

That was another strange thing about Peter actually, his reaction to Dick. From the moment he’d shown up, Peter had looked… up to him? Almost? But not in a fan worship way, Dick wasn’t sure how else to put it. He didn’t get the sense that Peter was starry-eyed, blind to all his faults, as if he’d been watching Dick from afar. No, he didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t that. There was a distance to that sort of thing that Peter just didn’t have.

He would’ve thought the kid was just grateful for his intervention, except it was pretty obvious the kid was barely thinking of it beyond trying to pretend to be hurt by those bullies.

He kept looking at Dick’s face, eyes traveling all over like he was searching for something. And when he didn’t find it… there’d be a crack. Something like the grief he saw in the library video, that complicated grief that had struck when Dick had asked about his parents, would play over his face before it disappeared, and then he would look away, eyes back to his shoes. At least until the process started all over again.

Dick didn’t know what the kid was looking for in him, why it broke Peter’s heart when he didn’t find it, but he wanted to know. He wanted to find out what was going on, help this kid somehow. Find out what was hurting him and put a stop to it.

“Well, I’ve always thought that there needed to be more resources available to at-risk kids. It was one of the first thoughts I had when I started working a beat here. I figured making sure they had someone to call whose advice wouldn’t be: join a gang, might be a good start to that.” Dick said, a bit more flippantly than he’d like, but in keeping with the ‘Richie’ Wayne persona. 

“Crime prevention.” Peter nodded. “A friend of mine, she was really into that.”

“Was?” Dick asked.

Peter flinched and Dick cursed himself as he watched Peter curl away, shoulders rising to his ears. “Was.” He repeated blankly. “She and I… well-”

Despite the fact that this could be another piece of the puzzle, Dick couldn’t stand to let Peter suffer for it. “Kid, you don’t have to explain.” Dick said, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter leaned in like he hadn’t been touched in days. “Little piece of advice? You ARE allowed to say ‘it’s not your business’ to people poking their noses in.”

Peter blushed. “That- that seems rude!”

“Maybe, but it’s pretty rude for them to be poking too.” Dick returned his hand to his side, noticing something regretful in Peter’s eyes at the absence.

“Well- uh- maybe. I guess.” He answered, rubbing the back of his head. 

Dick tilted his head to the side. “Do you want to hear a few more details? About the mentorship program?” 

Peter nodded, clearly grateful that Dick wasn’t pressing.

“The way I see it working, is that kids will be paired up with community leaders. Some volunteers from the center, a few officers, there’s even a martial arts teacher involved.” Dick summed up. “We’re hoping to start with an even 1:1, with each kid getting their own mentor, but if this takes off that’ll probably change later. Hopefully though, if more kids start volunteering, other adults will too. Maybe parents who want to get involved. For older kids, I’m hoping to set up some internship and apprentice opportunities with things like mechanic shops. Something that can give kids useful skills. Stuff that can help them even if they don’t become mechanics.”

“That sounds pretty cool.” Peter offered. “How do you figure kids will volunteer though?”

“Easiest solution is best: bribery. The Martha Wayne Foundation’s given the program funding, every meeting a kid has with their mentor comes with a free meal.” Dick said. 

There was undeniable interest on Peter’s face when he said that. Going off a gut feeling, he added, “Maybe you’d be interested in signing up?” 

Peter blinked, opened and closed his mouth. He looked conflicted.

“But no pressure.” Dick said, clapping Peter on the shoulder. “It could be good for you though, for everyone, and we really do need some kids willing to take the leap on this.” He said in a soft tone, remembering how reluctant Peter had been to walk with him until Dick had made it about helping. “So think about it, okay?” 

Peter nodded and looked away. “Here’s the office.” He offered, and it was only then that Dick realized they hadn’t walked a step further for some time now. “I hope it all works out for you.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t be afraid to sign up, okay? Hope I see you around sometime.” Dick said, offering a hand for the kid to shake. Peter accepted it then backed away. 

“Alright, well- uh, guess I should- go see the nurse or something. Thanks Mister Richard for the- uh, the conversation. And the offer!” Peter nodded his head like a bobblehead.

“Dick, please. I insist.” Dick laughed. 

Peter shook his head. “Mister Richard. Bye.” And then he walked away in the opposite direction from the nurse’s office. 

Dick chuckled, a little fondly. “Such a bad liar.” He whispered before turning around and entering the office. Inside, Dick quickly chatted up the secretary, asked her about Peter, and he learned a few new things.

Thanks to the secretary, he knew this was Peter’s literally first day of school, that they had him down as a last minute transfer from homeschooling in New York. It made sense, given the accent, but one thing about the story still didn’t add up. It didn’t explain what Peter was doing in Gotham’s library looking like the world had fallen out from under his feet and unintentionally breaking the bathroom.

Now technically, this was Barbara’s case. Peter showed up on her doorstep after all. First see, first dibs and whatnot. But, well, she wouldn’t mind TOO badly if he looked into it… probably. Maybe. After all, Peter lived in Blüdhaven now. Blüdhaven cases belonged to him. 

Yeeeeah, that wouldn’t get Barbara pissed at him at allllll… But possibly worth it? Dick was inclined to think yes. If only because case ownership was a concept and Peter was a person.

He hoped Peter accepted his offer. The kid really looked like he needed some help, and not just with learning how to hide his meta abilities better.

Chapter Text

Waking up in his blanket nest hadn’t been the most comfortable. Not to mention how badly he slept in general. If caffeine wasn’t a WRECK to his system, Peter would probably be guzzling it to recover. But it was, so he could only think longingly of the days when he’d have an energy drink just because.

It was better to think of that than to think of yesterday. 

It was a lot less painful to miss caffeine than to miss his dad.

Peter’s second day of school was both better and worse than the first day. He did NOT see his da-Richa-Dick-a CERTAIN adult, so that was disappointing. On the other hand, no one tried to beat him up again so he didn’t have to fake injuries or anything. Small favors. 

He let his head rest against the wall behind him as he rubbed it. He had a bad headache right now, a consequence of not eating he knew. He had free lunches at least, but every other meal he was still scrambling to come up with something. It seemed Blüdhaven didn’t have anywhere near the same infrastructure Gotham had for its homeless population. He’d yet to find even a food pantry, though he hadn’t had much time to search for one. 

Hopefully, the community center would have ads for that. Something to direct him at least. But he knew he couldn’t hold his breath. He needed to find a job or something, some way to reliably get money despite being thirteen. He’d also prefer to stay out of the foster care system while he was at it. Peter’d never heard a single good thing about it before and he doubted this dimension would be much different. No. Thanks.

Peter started walking towards his home. It was a bit of a walk from the school, but he preferred it that way. Busses had a way of driving his spider-sense crazy. Something about the movement of the cars, the drone of people right next to him. The sidewalks were almost relaxing in comparison.

As Peter walked through the streets, he felt a slight presence coming up from behind him. It was just the slightest ping on his senses, it wasn’t even registering as a threat. He wanted to ignore it at first, especially since with his sense going off at everything, it was hard to tell when something was an ACTUAL threat unless they were actively attacking. 

But then he realized that the presence was following him, that the pinging wouldn’t go away. That was dangerous. Unknown intentions, stranger danger, etc. 

What had little Peter Parker done to get followed so quickly?

He turned right and cut into an alley. He knew he had seconds before the presence caught up to him, so he jumped into the air and stuck himself to the wall. He waited. 

Spiders after all, were ambush predators. 

He half-expected some gangster to rush into the alley. Some obvious thug looking to make a quick buck. Instead, he saw a kid not much younger-well, older now. They were about fifteen years old and their clothes were filthy and ripped. Perhaps they were a pickpocket? But then why target Peter? He wasn’t exactly better off here. He only had the one pair of clothes on him, and they were getting rank from how often he’d been wearing them in a row.

“Ah shit, lost ‘im.” The kid cursed. He looked two seconds from tearing down the alley, which was just curious enough that Peter had to learn more. 

Peter silently dropped behind the kid and casually leaned against the wall. “Lost who?” He asked innocently. 

The kid jumped and whirled around. “YOU!” 

Peter tilted his head. “Me?” 

“How’dja do that?! I SAW you come in here and you weren’t here when I was looking just now!” The kid said. 

“I have no idea what you mean. Maybe you just missed me. I’m small like that.” Peter suggested flippantly. 

The kid opened and closed his mouth several times before scowling. “Well whatever. You need to come with me.” He said sternly. 

“My aunt says I’m not supposed to follow strangers.” Peter informed him. Inside though, his mind was starting to whir. What was this about? Some kind of scam? A lure? Seemed to be a strange lure in his opinion…

“You do everythin’ your aunt tells you?” The kid rolled their eyes. 

“Yes.” Peter said. Then he hesitated. “Well, okay, no, but that’s beside the point!” 

The kid huffed. “Look, kid, you need to come wit’ me, okay? I promise, it’ll be worth your while.” 

“You’re not trying to recruit me into a gang or something, are you?” Peter prodded. “ ‘Cause you should know, I’ve already had to run from traffickers once, I really don’t want to have to add gangs to the list.” 

The kid stared. “No. I ain’t tryin’ to recruit you. You’re too little, pipsqueak.” 

“I’m not-!” Peter cut himself off with a scowl as he remembered that he was, in fact, a pipsqueak now. And at least two years off from his real growth spurt. And he didn’t WANT to be recruited into a gang anyways so therefore, it was NOT an insult to be thought too small for that.

It wasn’t.

The kid smirked. “The name’s Marcus, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Marcus? I still don’t want to be trafficked. I hear kids sell for a lot.” Peter said. 

“Then you should come wit’ me.” Marcus said, hand coming down in a chopping motion as if that somehow settled everything. Seeing the skeptical look on Peter’s face, he sighed, eyes lifting to the sky for a moment before he started talking again. “Look, I promise, this is legit okay? We ain’t tryin’ to get you to run drugs or steal stuff, there ain’t any adults there hopin’ to take advantage of squirts like you. We’re like…an alliance. Just a bunch of kids takin’ care of each other. We exchange info, keep tabs on each other. If someone disappears, we notice. Even if no one else does.” 

Peter didn’t respond at first. He looked Marcus up and down, carefully weighing his spider sense. It had gone down to normal levels now that he’d identified the presence, so…no hostile intent for now? Peter chewed on his lip, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll go with you. But if you’re lying to me, just know, it won’t end well for anyone.” Not even me, he thought a little bitterly. 

“Well good, ‘cause I ain’t lyin’.” Marcus smirked. “C’mon, it’s this way.” 

Peter made sure to carefully monitor his Spider-Sense as he followed Marcus, but it never once twinged at him because of Marcus. Twinged at various adults and alleys along the way? Absolutely. But Marcus didn’t register anymore. 

Eventually, Marcus led him to another part of town he hadn’t made it to yet. It was…older than the rest of the city was. Full of tilting buildings, shattered windows, and broken walls. 

“What happened here?” Peter asked. 

Marcus looked back at him. “You don’t know? The whole city got bombed a few years back. That’s why the hills are so large here, they built the new city on top of the crater from it. This is the edge part they ain’t knocked down and rebuilt yet.” 

“BOMBED?!” Peter stared at Marcus as he tried to wrap his head around it. An entire city, destroyed? Just like that? Why? They rebuilt the city in a CRATER?

“Yeah, some villain or other. I don’t remember it too well, I was jus’ a kid.” Marcus shrugged. “ ‘T’s all I’ve ever known really.” 

Peter hummed in response, but didn’t say anything else. He was too busy noticing things. Like how they weren’t the only kids here. A large number of them scurried around, like mice, hiding themselves in the shadow of walls and slipping between houses like some boogeyman was going to lunge out and grab them if they didn’t. For all he knew, one would. Now that he was paying attention, he saw that Marcus was taking them along a similar route, staying close to the buildings, pausing before the streets to carefully look up and down them. At one point, he even doubled back after seeing something he didn’t like. Peter didn’t see what, but considering how his spider-sense twinged at their approach, he was inclined to agree with the decision. 

All told, by the time Marcus stopped outside a broken-down house and opened the door, it was almost evening and Peter was starving. 

“Where’s the boss?” Marcus asked a little girl, who couldn’t have been much older than seven or eight, as they entered. 

“Upstai’s.” The girl said, the slightest of lisps in her voice. “She’s expewimenting again.” 

“Thanks Ro.” Marcus tipped his head and led Peter up the stairs. 

“Boss?” Peter asked, about halfway up. 

“Uh-huh. She’s in charge of makin’ sure everyone eats and stuff. So we do what she says.” Marcus answered. “It’s been working out so far.”

On the first floor landing, Peter could see a closed door with lights flashing from the cracks. Marcus knocked on it. “Boss, I found someone that matches your description. Didn’t even know about the bombing.” 

The strange lights stopped. “Come in.” A familiar voice called out. 

Peter wasn’t sure WHY it was familiar, especially given that he was in another dimension. Then Marcus opened the door and all thoughts fled from his mind at the sheer, unbelievable sight in front of him. 

“You-!”

“Thank you Marcus, you can go now. I have a feeling our new friend has a few questions for me.” The boss grinned. 

Peter blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. He couldn’t believe his eyes. 

There was just no way Princess Shuri of Wakanda would be HERE of all places, staring at him with a Cheshire grin.

Chapter Text

Bruce stayed absolutely still as he stared down other members of the Justice League. Not all of them of course. Clark was behaving himself, sitting to his side and projecting calm. Diana, of course, was never a problem. She was sitting to his other side and wearing her diplomat smile. 

Fifteen minutes after the meeting was set to begin, John Constantine walked in the door and took his own seat. Briefly, Bruce had to wonder if the world was ending. What universe had he ended up in where Constantine wasn’t thirty minutes or even an hour late? 

“Where’s Aquaman?” Barry asked, spinning in his chair. “I thought you wanted everyone here?” 

“Aquaman is already aware of what this meeting is about and is taking proactive steps to handle it in his own kingdom.” Bruce answered. 

“That does not sound good for the rest of us chumps.” Barry frowned, stilling his chair for a moment.

“Alright then Bats, now that everyone’s FINALLY here-” Hal rolled his eyes at Constantine. “-Can you tell us why you’ve dragged us all out of our beds at ass-o-clock in the morning?” 

“Because some of us have work to do.” Bruce growled back, looking pointedly at the Lantern. “Including you.” 

Hal frowned. “Yeah, I’ve been getting calls ALL day long, I was looking forward to actually SLEEPING.” 

Bruce stood up and turned on the projector. A satellite image of Earth came up on the screen. “Four days ago, satellite imagery was able to capture this-” He pressed another button, playing the footage. It showed the Earth as it suddenly broadcast a great beam of light for a single second. Not a beam like a laser, but more like a blanket. It covered the entire globe for that second before disappearing. “-At the same time, a massive energy surge was recorded by multiple scientific agencies, including those in Russia, the United States, China, and England.” 

Hal sat up straight. “Four days- what time did this happen?” He asked. 

“About four-thirty Eastern Standard Time.” Bruce answered. 

Hal blinked a few times as he did the mental math. Then he frowned. “Wait a minute, that’s the same time as- well, when the Lantern Corps suddenly went to hell in a handbasket.” 

“And the reason why you’ve been busy and unreachable I believe.” Bruce said dryly. “Yes, I gathered.” 

“Bats, whatever this is, it didn’t JUST affect Earth.” Hal said with some frustration curling his fists. “It hit the entire GALAXY at the LEAST.” 

“I believe you.” Bruce said simply. “Tell me, what have you observed since the event in question?” 

“Massive rises in gang activity for one.” Hal said. “Beings we don’t know about suddenly appeared too, aliens that don’t exist in the known universe. An uptick in riots and looting.” 

“Have you talked to any of them?” 

“What we could. A large number of them speak completely different languages, but there’s been some overlap.” Hal sighed. “The problem is, they can’t report much that’s useful. They said they felt a tingling sensation, blinked, and found themselves here. It’s like some asswipe decided to teleport a bunch of people without rhyme or reason.” 

“I think you’re right. But it gets worse.” Bruce said grimly. 

He clicked the button and another slide appeared, this one full of charts and data. “This is the number of people recorded at homeless shelters before the event.” He pointed to a lower column on a bar chart. “And these are the numbers afterwards.” 

Diana caught her breath. “It has almost doubled in size.” She frowned. 

“Exactly. Other cities don’t keep as careful track of these numbers as Gotham does, but I expect if they did, they would find the same problem. What we can conclude from this, is that these people weren’t just teleported randomly from across America. If that was all, they’d be using their cash to check into hotels, call home and ask for help getting a plane ticket.” 

“But none of these people are doing that.” Clark said slowly. “Because they can’t? They’re going to homeless shelters instead because… their money, I.D., or connections aren’t available anymore?” 

“I believe these people have been teleported here from another dimension or alternate timeline.” Bruce concluded. 

“What the shit.” Barry stared at the charts. “How is that even possible? A few people at a time, sure, but teleporting this many people? At once? That kind of energy output should be impossible!” 

“I don’t know. But we need to decide how we are going to handle this. We have a refugee crisis on our hands now. An entire population full of people who have suddenly lost everything they need to survive. Moreover, this is a population we have no way to keep track of. None of them will have functioning I.D.’s, limited cash if any, none of their fingerprints or D.N.A. will be any system. I’m not even going into doppelgangers right now, multi-dimensional copies, and how THAT will complicate things.” Bruce said. 

“Can’t we just send the wankers back?” Constantine asked. “Pretty sure everyone’s done multi-versal travel before. Some of us on PURPOSE.” 

“Not feasible at this time.” Bruce said. “We’d have to track them all down and do it individually, one by one, to have even a CHANCE at getting them back to their home dimension. There’s just too many and we don’t have the energy resources to make it happen.” 

“Fuuuuuuuuck us.” Barry whispered, his head in his hands. 

“Human traffickers are going to have a field day when they find out about this.” Clark said as he stared at the charts. “An entire population of people no one is keeping track of? Who have no one to call attention to them when they disappear?” 

“It gets worse.” Bruce said grimly. 

“HOW? HOW can it get WORSE?!” Barry looked up.

“Most of these people will have been good, law-abiding citizens who never even considered committing a crime above a misdemeanor. But these people are going to get very desperate, very quickly. Without proof of existence, they can’t get jobs. Without a credit history, who would rent to them?” 

Horror began to dawn on everyone’s faces as they followed his train of thought. 

“We’re already seeing strain in the systems we’ve set up to handle these sorts of things.” Bruce clicked to the next slide. “There’s been an uptick in children taken in by the system as well. Children who insist that not only do they have parents, but that they were with them until they ‘got lost’. When attempting to call the numbers they give, the addresses they tell, their parents do not answer. Some of the addresses don’t even exist.” 

Captain Marvel was staring at the slide, his normal smile nowhere in sight. It was replaced by white-knuckled horror. “There’s not even enough fosters for the system we HAVE, let alone decent ones.” His voice was raspy. “These kids are going to get killed.”

“What the HELL?!” Hal shot to his feet, glaring at the screen. “What kinda psychopath drops children into another dimension ALONE?!” 

Next slide. “Hospitals, police stations, and fire stations are reporting a lot of babies being found outside them as well. It went from once or twice a week to finding up to eight on their doorstep in one night.” 

“Holy shit B, how- how do we even TRY to help all of these people?” Barry asked. “Like, I want to, I really do, but this…this is HUGE. This isn’t, find asshole and punch them lots. This is…” He trailed off and shook his head. 

“If the event was smaller and more localized, I would suggest keeping it under wraps, and quietly finding places for the displaced. Unfortunately, this is too wide a scale and we’re not the only ones with access to this data. Sooner or later, someone will figure out what’s happening.” Bruce turned to the next slide, a cost analysis of what he was about to suggest. “We’ll need to start by alerting the U.N. unfortunately. Get the papers on this.” He nodded to Clark. “A database, preferably international, will need to be set up to track these refugees. Get names down, see if we can reconnect anyone. The sooner these people can exist on paper, the better. We’re going to need massive infrastructure changes as well, more homeless shelters and food pantries need to be opened. World wide.”

“Will that be enough?” Diana asked, but Bruce got the feeling she already knew his answer. 

“Probably not. But it’s a start.”

Chapter Text

Marcus left the room and Peter didn’t waste a second. He was vibrating with excitement, the knowledge that he wasn’t alone lighting up his eyes and bringing hope in where he’d had none.

“How are you-”

“Here? The same as any of the other transfers I suppose. In one blink, I was in a Wakandan lab, fighting an alien invasion, and in the next I was here in Blüdhaven.” Princess(!) Shuri spread her arms to indicate the room around her. 

Peter blinked. “Other transfers?” 

She laughed. “Did you think you were the only one to find themself in a new world between blinks?” 

Kind of, yeah. Peter thought, the words choking in his throat as he rapidly blinked. The thrill of not being alone was swept away by his relief, the kind that made his legs wobble and his eyes tear.

She tilted her head, observing his reactions without comment. “No, there were many other transfers. I have been attempting to track as many of them down as I can these past few days.” She said, voice just a touch less frank than it was earlier.

Peter’s eyes widened with excitement, just the knowledge that someone had been searching, that someone had cared, made him want to jump for joy.

It was a weird rollercoaster of emotions he was on right now. “How?” 

“Several ways. Marcus and a few others have lived here their whole lives, they are very good at spotting strangers, particularly young ones like yourself.” The Princess nodded to him as she picked up a clipboard. “I have also been monitoring hacking attempts in the nearby area. Metropolis, Gotham, and Blüdhaven to be specific. I could extend the range, but I don’t currently have the resources to offer aid to people who are further away.”

Understanding flashed through Peter. “So when I hacked into the school to enroll-”

“I detected it, yes.” The Princess, Princess Shuri? Peter was standing in front of a real live princess, one of the smartest people in the WORLD, in clothes he’s worn twice in a row- “Now it is my turn.” She settled back into her chair to stare intently at Peter. 

“What? Oh, yeah, sure.” He nodded in a way that painfully resembled a bobblehead.

“First off, is your name really Peter Parker?” She asked. Peter nodded and she grinned. “How old were you before the transfer?” 

“I was-well, I was seventeen.” It threw Peter for a second. He’d almost forgotten again that he’d shrunk.

She scribbled on her clipboard. “How old do you believe you look now?” 

“Thirteen.” 

“Hm. So only a four year loss.” She murmured. “Interesting.”

“...why? How many years did you lose?” Peter asked. He hadn’t planned on saying anything, his aunt told him to never comment on a girl’s age after all, but she looked younger than he remembered seeing her be on TV.

“Five. How are you so confident that you’re thirteen?”

“What?” Peter blinked.

“You answered without hesitation, used no qualifiers such as ‘about’ or ‘around’. Most people don’t have such concrete awareness of what they looked like when they were younger. So why do you?”

Oh well, I have super powers that give me an incredible sense of where I am in relation to my body, so I’ve been hyper-aware of what my body has looked and felt like ever since I got them.

“No real reason. I’ve just been saying that a lot.” Partially true. A lot of kids at school had been asking him how old he was.

“Hm. Are you a mutant, mutate, or neither?” 

“Wha-well of course-I mean why would you think-I don’t have-!” Peter could feel his face growing hot with the lie.

Princess Shuri laughed. “You are a bad liar Peter. You should not do it more often.” She checked something on her clipboard. “Now, where were you before the transfer?”

Peter shut up and shook his head. He couldn’t…He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, could he? That he was in space, on an actual alien planet? He was pretty sure normal people didn’t end up in space.

Princess Shuri ticked her head to the side. “Interesting. You are the first to not answer that you know.” 

“I…don’t want to talk about it.” Peter mumbled, eyes drifting towards his shoes.

“Were you doing something illegal perhaps?” The Princess asked. 

Peter’s head jerked up, offense rushing through him. “What? No! Of course not, I was-” He shut up again, forcing his mouth closed before he accidentally admitted to being Spider-Man. 

That would just be embarrassing. Almost as much as Aunt May finding out because he forgot to close his bedroom door.

Aunt May…oh God- what if she-

Princess Shuri smirked a little bit. “Very interesting.” There was a gleam in her eyes and Peter suddenly wondered how long his secret identity would be safe from her. He got the same feeling from her that he got from MJ sometimes, like he was being examined, lights flashing through his closet, trying to dig out all of his secrets. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hide them for long.

Why didn’t I just say New York and pass by it? Because I’m an idiot. Peter cleared his throat. “So what’s with the questions about my age and stuff?” He not-so-subtly changed the subject.

The Princess allowed it and put her clipboard down. “I have been trying to understand the rules of this transfer.” She answered, leaning back in her chair, head tilted towards the ceiling as her eyes closed. “What determines the number of lost years? Why did I appear here and not in the equivalent African country?”

Peter tilted his head. Those were really good questions actually, why HAD he appeared in Gotham when he’d started in space? “What answers have the others given?” He asked.

“Several New York’s, some from surrounding towns, a few people who ACTUALLY lived in New Jersey.” The Princess recited off the top of her head. “That is the majority at least. There’s a small minority who come from farther afield, though none were transferred as far as me.”

Except me. “So most people only experienced a small displacement.” Peter murmured. “Man, I wish we could talk to someone who got transferred to Europe or something…sample size is way too small to actually get an overall picture of what happened.” 

Princess Shuri opened her eyes to look at Peter. “That is exactly what I have been thinking. It is quite frustrating to have only a small sample to consider. I haven’t even reached thirty answers yet.” 

Peter winced with sympathy. “Central Limit Theorem.” He muttered. “What you have can’t show a normal distribution yet because you don’t know if the population has been normally distributed. And your samples are even biased towards street kids and hackers, there’s probably a bunch of people who don’t fit either that aren’t present.”

Princess Shuri tilted her head to the side, a Cheshire smile coming back to her face. “Peter, I suspect you and I are going to get along fantastically.”

“I-uh, you think so ma’am? Your highness? Uh-”

“Shuri. Just call me Shuri.” She grinned.

“Shuri.” Peter repeated. It felt a bit…wrong, to be calling a princess by her name like that, especially when they’d only just met, but he couldn’t quite find it in him to deny her either. You weren’t supposed to tell princesses no right? That was a rule wasn’t it? 

“Peter.” 

“What?” Peter blinked, jerking back to the present. It took him a few seconds before he remembered that he was in the middle of a conversation. “Oh-sorry-I didn’t mean to zone out like that-I just-”

Shuri laughed at him. “It’s okay!” Her eyes glittered and she jumped to her feet. “Come, let me show you what I’ve been working on.” She walked across the room and for the first time, Peter actually looked around himself. 

The room he stood in was filled with machinery, broken and scavenged bits of metal, some of it half-deconstructed and others reconstructed for unknown purposes. The place had one chair, the one Shuri had been using, and multiple card tables, folding tables, every kind of table holding the electronics. But right now Shuri was walking towards what was very obviously a computer setup. 

“Well?” She turned back. “Are you coming?” 

Peter followed her across the room. “Is this what you’ve been using to monitor hacking in the area?” He asked. 

“That’s one of its jobs, yes.” Shuri moved the mouse and all three monitors lit up. The first one was probably the hacking monitor, it had multiple notifications running down the side, and a search function was happening in a minimized window. After observing it for a few seconds, Peter realized it was matching hacker identities to real life people. When a match was found, a notification would flash red then disappear. When no identities were found, it flashed green and was added to a slowly growing list. 

His mouth went dry. “If I…If I give you some names to look for, do you think this could find them?” He didn’t know if he wanted Aunt May to be in this dimension or not. He didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to be separated from his aunt for the rest of his life. But if May was here… then she wouldn’t be safe. She’d be like him when he got here, alone, no cash, no home, she could be in danger-

Peter flinched and unclenched his hands. There were three little crescent-moon cuts in the thick of his palm, next to his thumb. He gripped his pant leg instead, allowing the tiny cuts a minute to heal.

“I could look.” Shuri said carefully. “But it would only work if they have created a digital footprint. By hacking, getting arrested, or perhaps making a social media account. I would need more details to do a more thorough search.”

Peter swallowed and slowly nodded. “Yeah…yeah, that makes sense.” He mumbled. He shook his head and looked at the other two monitors. 

The middle monitor seemed to be information gathering. Newspaper articles kept flashing across the screen, information briefly highlighting before adding itself to a folder. In just a few seconds of watching, he saw folders for ‘Celebrities’, ‘Local news’, ‘Heroes’, ‘Business’, and ‘Technology’.

The final monitor was…hacking into government databases. Or trying to at least. Every once in a while, the screen would flash Warning! and kick...whatever program was being run, out. 

Shuri inspected this monitor and hummed. “This world’s cyber security is quite strong, considering its technological and engineering weaknesses. I could probably break in if I sat down to work myself instead of using scripts, but it is interesting to see, isn’t it?”

Peter nodded. “Hacking isn’t really my area of expertise, that’s-” He stuttered and stopped for a second, his mind finishing the thought with a quiet Ned. “My best friend.” He mumbled. He cleared his throat and tried to move on. “I know enough to get by but I couldn’t crack it at all when I was working on my identity.”

Shuri pulled her chair over. “Would you like me to show you a few tricks?”

“Yes please!” 

Shuri was halfway through shoring up Peter’s identity (she was, in fact, correct when she said she could probably break through the government’s firewalls if she did it herself) when the door opened. 

“Yo princess, so the guys were talking and-PENIS PARKER?!”

“FLASH?!”

“Oh good, you know each other already.”

Chapter Text

Peter stared at his old bully, looking a few years younger than when Peter had last seen him, and felt a certain amount of resignation fill him. Of course, OF COURSE, Parker Luck would kick in and somehow, someway, his old bully would find him here, but not anyone he actually wanted to see.

…Although that still might be better for them at least.

While Peter had been staring, Flash started talking. “Yeah, Penis Par-”

“Eugene.” Shuri rolled her eyes and Peter was treated to the sight of Flash immediately shutting up in response. “I do not have time to put up with childish name-calling. If you are going to be mean, at least be clever about it.” 

Flash deflated like a popped balloon, sullenly glaring at Peter as if this was somehow his fault. “Yes ma’am.”

Peter was too busy looking at Shuri with stars in his eyes to really be bothered. “He told you his real name? You use it?” 

“Of course he did and I do.” Shuri said, a little smug.

“He calls you ma’am?” Peter said, utterly baffled as he turned his eyes to his long-time bully. 

“Uh, duh. What, are you stupid or something all of a sudden, Pe-Parker?” Flash quickly corrected himself with a sidelong glance at Shuri. 

Peter scowled and bit his tongue. Just ignore him, just ignore him- He chanted to himself. Remember stealing and crashing his car at homecoming? The memory was enough to get him to smile, just briefly. 

Flash didn’t see it, he’d already looked back at Shuri, thinking he’d won.

“So you interrupted our conversation for what exactly?” Shuri prompted.

“Oh-shit, yeah, right. So me and the guys were talking-”

“Always a dangerous pursuit.” Shuri said dryly.

Flash blushed, but ‘bravely’ kept talking. “They were telling me about some hide-outs they’ve had around here, places no one’s touched since the place blew up, and I was just thinking that some of them might be a better place to set up base, you know. More secure, with some work.” 

“Hm, and I suppose you are volunteering to do it?” Shuri asked with a little head tilt. 

“Oh- well- I mean- I was thinking someone has to manage that, but- well, we all have to do our part right?” Flash mumbled his way through the sentence, clearly trying to backtrack without losing ground. An impossible task. 

“Indeed we do.” Shuri said in such a way that Peter suddenly desperately wished he was there for their first meeting, because it was increasingly obvious that she not only had his number but a very short leash on his bully. She hummed. “I’ll have one of them show me some of these places and make my decision soon.” She decided. “You can go now.”

Flash practically jumped half a foot in his rush to stand. “Yes ma’am! I’ll- I’ll go let them know.” He cast an envious look at Peter, who had not been dismissed so quickly, “Later Parker.” He said and left. 

“Wow.” Peter was holding back laughter as he turned away from the door. “Just… wow.” He knew Flash tended to bow down to authority, the way he was always kissing up to their teachers told him more than enough about that, but it still shocked him to see Flash so…obedient. Chastised even, just by one comment from Shuri.

Shuri seemed to have already dismissed the encounter from her mind, turning back to the computer and continuing to add more details to his story. Just another day in the life of a displaced princess. 

The encounter reminded Peter of Marcus calling her the ‘boss’ earlier. “How’d you get in charge of everything so quickly?” He asked. “Did you just… arrive and decide to start a gang?” 

“Of course not, that would have been an inefficient use of my time and it would have made gathering resources much harder.” Shuri said matter-of-factly. “No, I joined one that was being poorly managed and deposed the leader. I believe he’s set to have his arraignment hearing in two weeks now?” 

“You-you- what?” Peter sputtered. “How-you showed up in another dimension with no I.D. or anything and just took over a gang?”

“What? Like it’s hard?” Shuri grinned.

“DO YOU KNOW MEMES?!” Peter nearly screeched, his mind record-scratching on the Legally Blonde reference.

Shuri burst into laughter that nearly sent her cackling to the floor, and went on just long enough that Peter’s brain rebooted and he realized how ridiculous that question was. Of course she knew memes, the internet was very specifically a ‘not just America’ thing. 

It just hadn’t occurred to him that the princess of another country would be looking up vines.

He was blushing fire-engine red by the time Shuri stopped laughing, though she still had a large grin on her face. “Yes.”

Peter plopped his head in his hands. “Can we just- pretend I didn’t say that?” He asked weakly. 

“I am constantly recording what happens here.” Shuri informed him. “There will be no forgetting.”

Peter dug his head a little deeper into his hands and groaned. Shuri laughed again as she spun around back to the computers. Rapid clicking and keyboard clacking sounded off again. Peter didn’t dare look, a little terrified she was pulling the footage up just to rewatch, so for a few minutes neither spoke, until:

“So, why did you come to Bludhaven?” Shuri asked. “It would have been easier to stay in Gotham. They have a better infrastructure to handle their homeless population after all.”

In all the chaos, Peter had almost forgotten about yesterday, but Shuri’s words brought the encounter back to the front of his mind in full-force. For a moment, he was frozen, eyes wide and semi-glassy as his grief and longing hit him again. “I-it’s just-” He curled his arms around himself a little helplessly.

Shuri stopped typing, the grin fading from her face as she turned to face him. She didn’t say anything, just watched Peter as he struggled to put words in his own mouth. 

He remembered what his dad- Richard had said yesterday about telling people no, about not telling people everything just because they asked.

If it was anyone else asking, Peter probably would have tried to do it. 

But Shuri was the first person from home that he’d met here, she’d already helped him so much by shoring up his identity, by showing him that he wasn’t alone here. She gave him hope that maybe things could still get better. 

He owed her this much, didn’t he?

“My dad’s alive here.” He whispered. 

Grief flashed across Shuri’s own face, and he was abruptly reminded that she’d lost her father too. Very publicly in fact.

The two of them sat there in Shuri’s makeshift lab, sitting in creaky, lopsided chairs that pinched their sides, the both of them churning with complicated emotions. Two strangers mourning the same thing. 

Peter trained his eyes on his shoes, glaring hard at them as if that would stop the tears that once again threatened him. 

“What’s his name?” Shuri asked quietly. 

“Richard Grayson.” Peter answered, voice rasping.

There was a noise as Shuri spun her chair back around, then keyboard clacking. An awful lot actually just for someone to look up-

“What are you doing?” Peter frowned. 

“I’ve got to edit your birth certificate.” Shuri said matter-of-factly. 

“What? Why?!”

“I can’t list Richard Parker as your father if Richard Grayson is, now can I?” 

“What- that’s not! Stop!” Peter jumped up, hands flinching back and forth as he tried to figure out what he should do. “Look- it doesn’t matter, okay? Just because they- have the same DNA or whatever, that doesn’t make him my dad! He has his own life here, kids and everything! I can’t ruin that!” 

Shuri’s fingers stopped. “Was your father a mean-spirited man?” She asked.

“No!” 

She started again. “Then why would you ruin anything?”

“Because-! Because-!” How could Peter explain his curse to her? He’d lost his parents, his uncle, his entire world now because he couldn’t keep a hold of one stupid glove. The one common factor was him. He ruined everything.

If he got involved in Richard’s life, he’d probably ruin it too. 

Shuri side-eyed him and sighed. “Relax. I’m not listing your father as Richard Grayson.”

“You’re not?” Peter blinked.

“That would be too obvious. No, I’m making it that your mother simply never listed a father. Your aunt and uncle will have to be related to you on your mothers side instead.” Shuri explained.

“Why would you do that?!” Peter protested, hand darting forward to steal the mouse from the computer. 

Shuri smacked his hand before he could manage it. “Because.”

“That’s no reason!”

Shuri left the federal website. “It’s done.” She said with a stubborn glare.

Peter stared at her, open-mouthed with shock and anger because- just like that? She’d rewritten half of his identity, deleted the other half, all that effort to make both his parents and family legitimate people gone-and for what? 

To make a place for a Richard that probably wasn’t even thinking about him anymore? Just because he said his dad-

Oh.

Peter looked at her, really looked, and this time he saw more than the stubborn glare she was fixing him with. It was stubborn, that was for sure, but… there was more on her face than just that, and Peter knew because he used to see it all the time in the mirror.

Peter sat back down in his chair, suddenly tired. “I’m sorry.” He said. 

Shuri looked away. Peter wasn’t a mind-reader, he didn’t know what she was thinking, but he kind of felt like he did. As if she’d screamed it at him when he’d asked instead of shutting down.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, and he held out his hand. 

Shuri didn’t say anything for at least a minute… but she accepted his hand.

Chapter Text

The night shift had already ended by the time Bruce finally left the Justice League meeting. This was… good, because it meant his children had made it safe through the night without him there. It also meant they were getting the sleep they needed. 

This was bad because he really needed to tell them what was going on before he got lectured on ‘keeping secrets’ and ‘not trusting them’, and now that would have to wait. Bruce wasn’t about to wake them up for something they couldn’t even handle right away after all. 

His kids worked so hard all the time, they needed to get whatever sleep they could.

Technically, Bruce ought to go to sleep too, it was even a good time for it as he wasn’t in the middle of any projects. If Alfred was down here, he would definitely make him go to bed. 

…But Alfred wasn’t here, so Bruce sat down and started forming a plan for how to confront this displacement in Gotham. How long he worked, he wasn’t absolutely certain. Suffice to say that at some point, Alfred came down to the Cave and made Bruce leave before he ‘turned to stone and became a permanent fixture’.

Things kind of hm… snow-balled, after that. After Bruce left the Cave, he had to go to work at WE, then he had to suit up, and by the time he came back from THAT, he’d been up for over 24 hours and Alfred was suspiciously standing in front of the Med-Bay and staring directly at Bruce. 

Message received, he went to bed as soon as his reports were done.

When he woke up, he had to run out the door for more WE work, he’d BARELY had the time to wish Damian a good day at school! One thing just kept leading to another and now here he was, two days after the meeting and he’d still not told the kids about what was happening. 

Any of them. 

Bruce was going to catch so much flak for this. He was already catching it from Timothy, who’d been acting very passive-aggressively at work for the entire day. Tim must have hacked the minutes and told him something.

Bruce was, perhaps, a little bit too pathetically pleased that Tim hadn’t told anyone else yet, but he also knew it was only a matter of time. Tim had already been dropping hints about having a family meeting soon, which told him that if he didn’t tell the others, Tim would. 

That conversation would go so much worse if Tim was the one who dropped the bomb.

Bruce was contemplating just how he was going to explain the two-day delay pre-emptively when his personal phone rang. It was personalized ringtone 18- his long-time social worker Miranda- but why would she be calling him now? Bruce picked up the phone.

“Miranda! Haven’t talked to you in a bit. How’s Charlene doing?” He asked in his boisterous ‘Brucie’ tone of voice. 

Charlene. He really did miss her even though she’d only been at the Manor for two months. Her new foster-soon to be adoptive- parents were treating her quite well though and the girl was thriving by all appearances. Charlene had even made it onto her school choir. Cass had already put her first performance on the calendar.

He had to ask anyway though because Brucie wouldn’t know that for sure.

“She’s doing great, Bruce. I’m calling-”

“And Jake? He’s almost four now, how is he handling the change?” Bruce asked. 

Jake had only been a few days old when Bruce had gotten him, he’d likely always be worried about the cold, little baby he’d held in his arms- even if only for a week. Unfortunately, his last set of foster parents had proven to be untrustworthy and Jake had had to be moved again. The new ones seemed good, but changing parents like that on a child so young could easily have proven to be detrimental to his sense of security.

“Rough at first, but he’s settling now.” Miranda said, voice a tad impatient. 

“And-”

“They’re all fine, Bruce please.” Miranda said. “I’m not calling about any of your previous fosters.”

Bruce paused. “Then why are you calling?” He asked, even though he was already beginning to suspect the truth. Brucie wouldn’t know about the current explosion of kids in the foster system after all.

Miranda sighed. “It’s hard to explain- I don’t know how or why it happened, but the kids in our system just-doubled in size. Overnight. I know you requested a brief leave from emergency foster care, but there’s not enough parents and you have so much room-”

“I’ll do it.” Bruce said automatically.

“You-” Miranda laughed. “I don’t know what I was expecting.” She said. “But are you sure? If you let me put you back on the active list, I probably won’t be sending you just one.”

“I’m fine with that. I might be busy for a few days, but I can always hire extra help around here if I need to.” Bruce said as he quickly sent Alfred a text alerting him to the new guests. 

Now he really would have to tell his kids about what was going on…

Damn. They’d think he was only telling them because his hand was forced by the situation. They’d never believe that he’d been planning on doing so all along.

Miranda sniffled, a sound just loud enough to have Bruce freezing in place. He’d known Miranda for years now, she’d been the social worker for Jason, Tim, Duke, and Cassandra, had usually been the one to bring each of his emergency fosters to the house. He couldn’t recall ever hearing her so close to tears though.

“Sorry.” She apologized. “It’s just- you have no idea how relieving that is to hear you say yes. I was already psyching myself up for a no and- there’s so many Bruce. So many.” She sniffled again, a pause as she probably wiped her eyes, and then said. “Listen, I know the limit is three unrelated children, but things are really dire right now Bruce. You’ve always done good work with every kid I’ve given you, I know I can trust you with them. Just- do you think you can handle a bit more than the usual limit? I’m sure your lawyers can have the paperwork filled out within the hour, and of course we can compensate-”

“I’ll take as many as you’re willing to give me.” Bruce interrupted. “You could fill my home with children if you wanted.” He added lightly, though he knew Miranda wasn’t about to do that. 

Miranda laughed again. “I’m pretty sure a judge would have something to say about that if I tried. Unless you started advertising yourself as a boarding school.” She joked. 

“Hmm…”

“Bruce!”

“Okay, okay!” Bruce laughed, even as the mental thought didn’t QUITE go away… “How many are you thinking?” 

“Four for now, but I’ll probably send another one or two later if I get too many more no’s.” Miranda sighed. 

“You’ve been calling pretty much everyone, haven’t you?” Bruce said with some pity in his voice.

“Everyone who’s ever fostered a kid in the history of Gotham who’s still alive and wasn’t actively abusing their fosters.” Miranda sighed. 

Bruce decided he rather despised how the word ‘actively’ was being used here, because it implied some level of neglectfulness was being accepted here in order to find houses for all of these kids. He’d have to do something about that…

“Listen, Bruce, could you come down to the station to pick them up? I know normally I’d deliver them myself, but I’m literally swamped here.”

Bruce had a board meeting in about ten minutes. “Sure, my schedule’s free.” 

“Thanks. I’ll stop by sometime this week to check on you all when I can.” Miranda said. They exchanged a few more details, Bruce hacked into the database to see what information was available on the kids he’d be fostering (only one of the children had a comprehensive file that dated to before the incident), sent what little he had to Alfred so the butler would be prepared, and then he’d left. 

Thankfully, he hadn’t driven any of his flashier vehicles to work today. There was enough room for all four children, though the oldest of them (an estimated 15-17, her notes said she’d refused to say a word since they’d brought her in) would have to sit up front in the passenger seat. 

Bruce headed for the police station. At this time of day, traffic was minimal, but this was still Gotham city. He was frequently forced to sit in place, engine idling as he waited for traffic to move. 

It gave him plenty of time to wish he’d told his kids about what was happening before it’d come to this.

Chapter Text

Bruce arrived at the police station, parking and sweeping inside with a quick and business-like stride. Normally he’d make this a dramatic moment, be full Brucie and everything these officers expected. 

Normally, he wasn’t here to collect four traumatized children, three of whom had been undoubtedly displaced from their homes with no warning, rhyme, or reason by a mysterious event. He didn’t want ‘Brucie’ to be their first impression of him, and damn the potential identity leak that could happen from the break. 

“They’re holed up in the soft interrogation room, 14.” The receptionist told him and pointed down the hall. 

“Thank you.” Bruce followed her directions until he came to a room with a ‘14’ on it. He knocked, waited a few seconds as he heard the sound of scuffling, then opened the door. 

The soft interrogation room was exactly that: soft. It held a comfy couch that was well-worn from years of use, but still had enough fabric to hold texture. A furry, green rug on the floor was laid over the carpet and held little yellow Robin symbols scattered over it. A toy chest on the far side held multiple stuffed animals and a box of fidget toys rested next to that. A cushioned rocking chair rested in the corner, next to the door, and a small table held art supplies like crayons and paper. The room was painted yellow. 

The four children were scattered around the room, not huddled together like he might have thought they would be. 

One had curled up in the rocking chair and was watching Bruce with wary eyes. He had light brown hair and eyes, his face completely smudged up from a hard life on the streets. His thread-bare clothes had holes in them, and Bruce itched to offer him the coat off his back. This was undoubtedly Martin, the only one of these children who had always lived in this dimension’s Gotham and had a complete record, including four counts of running away and a brief stint in a juvenile correction facility after being caught shoplifting bread. He was only twelve years old, like Jason had been, but something about his face looked older, harder. The crime of growing up too soon was clearly felt.

He was just glad Martin wasn’t as skinny as Jason had been. It meant his efforts to make sure all children in Gotham had places they could go for food, even if they were homeless, were working.

A little African-American girl was sitting on the carpet, a rabbit toy clutched between her two hands. Her file, next to Martin’s, had been the most comprehensive. She hadn’t held anything back in her conversation with a social worker. She’d said her name was Grace, that she was six years old, and she’d described in full detail the life she held with her family that included many aunts, uncles, and cousins. None of whom could be verified to actually exist despite the many phone numbers she’d given, memorized in case she got lost. Her little dress was dirty, which made sense considering how long it had been since she was brought here, but beneath that he could see how well-cared for it had been. The material was of a solid quality and was covered with hand-stitched images of kittens. 

Someone had loved this child to pieces. He wondered what had happened to them, what they were thinking and feeling. Had they known their little girl was coming here? Perhaps some disaster had struck and this had been the only solution to save them all. Perhaps something worse had happened, and no one knew where little Grace had disappeared to. Perhaps, even now, her entire family was panicking and searching in the wrong dimension for their little girl. 

Next to Grace was another boy, a little older than her, but not as old as Martin. He was sitting at the table, staring at the crayons in his hands, but otherwise not speaking. There were half-hearted scribbles on a piece of paper, but they looked like they’d been abandoned half-way through his efforts. Shock or dissociation, his file had diagnosed. There’d been a few moments of clarity where he’d told them his name was Leo, a phone number to call, and that he lived alone with his dad, but otherwise he hadn’t spoken. They’d had to call a translator as he’d spoken primarily in Spanish the few times he had spoken, though he’d completely understood directions given in English. Bruce suspected he was completely bilingual, that it was his condition that had the boy reverting to his first language in his stress.

This brought him to the fourth child, a red-haired girl with dark eyes, the oldest there, who sat on the couch and stubbornly faced forward, as if denying his existence in the same room as her. No one had suggested shock or dissociation in her file, she was so very purposeful in manner that no one could make the mistake. She’d responded to direct orders, but hadn’t said a word, not even her name, since she’d been brought to the station, merely glared. 

All of these observations took Bruce only a few seconds to clock. Then he was crouching, making himself smaller as he softened his voice. 

“Hello everyone.” He said softly. 

“Hi. Can I go home yet?” Grace asked bluntly. “I really want my mommy now.” Her little hands squeezed her rabbit tighter.

Bruce carefully kept himself still, swallowing the heartbreak that reared its head in response. “I’m sorry sweetheart, they still haven’t found her.”

Grace buried her face in her rabbit. “Did you even look?” She whined, the words slightly muffled. “Mommy’s at home where she always is! I told the officer that!”

“They’re trying really hard to find her, I promise.” Bruce said. “But in the meanwhile, the police are going to send you all home with me so you won’t have to sit in this stuffy, old station anymore.”

The red-haired girl laughed, bitterly, sharply, sarcastically, but didn’t speak. 

“They called YOU?” Martin piped in, eyes narrowed as he peeked over the rocking chair’s arm to glare down at Bruce. “Bruce fuckin’ Wayne? The billionaire?” He demanded.
“Millioniare.” Bruce corrected mildly, though he knew that didn’t help much. Still, it’d taken so much effort to get rid of enough money to be able to say that. 

Martin snorted. “That don’t make a difference.” He muttered. “You’re still richer than God. Why’d they call YOU?”

“I’ve fostered many kids over the years.” Bruce said, still speaking calmly and neutrally. Jason always responded best to him at this age when he spoke like that, he hoped Martin would feel the same. “Many of my children are adopted.” He added. 

Martin scowled, but considering the rather public knowledge of these adoptions, didn’t argue further. Bruce made a mental note to watch out for runaway attempts. It would likely take a long time to show Martin that he was safe with him.

“You’re not supposed to curse.” Grace informed Martin. “Mommy says cursing is bad.” 

Martin’s face twisted and Bruce braced himself to have to intervene, but Martin only said, “She ain’t MY mommy.”

Grace frowned, her eyebrows furrowing as she considered the merit of Martin’s argument. 

Bruce turned to Leo and said in Spanish, “Hello Leo.” He waited until the boy dragged his gaze away from the crayons to look at him. “My name is Bruce Wayne. I’m going to take care of you for a little while.” He continued. 

Leo blinked, nodded, and his eyes trailed away again. Figuring that was the best he was going to get for now, at least until he could get the boy warm and feeling safe again, Bruce slowly stood up and shuffled to stand in front of the red-haired girl, forcing her to acknowledge him. 

She glared up at Bruce, holding a burning sort of anger inside her that made her fingers tremble. Bruce suddenly had the feeling that she could have left at any time, that there was nothing he could do to hold her if she didn’t want to be held. 

He’d thought Martin would remind him the most of Jason, what with their similar backgrounds and attitudes, but without speaking a single word he knew this girl and Jason were a lot more alike. They both had that same fury shaking them. 

Jason’s fury was fueled by his death and rebirth, by going through some of the worst experiences this world had to offer, being forced to claw his way into the light with bloody fingers and gritted teeth. He was fueled by that fury and loss, an unfathomable grief that few could hope to understand or even imagine.

Whatever life this girl had held before coming here, it had not been soft. It had not been easy. Bruce could imagine, all too clearly, how her life had been torn apart and how this was just the cherry on top. 

She would not be placated by a few words and a soft disposition.

He didn’t crouch down to face her. Didn’t step forward to loom over her. He faced her head on. “My name is Bruce. What’s yours?” He asked, without even the faintest hint of a performance.

The girl stared at him, taking his measure. Bruce had a funny feeling, there was just something so perceptive in her gaze, as if she was reading him and everything he was, as if she could read his mind and knew it all. The grief and fury that drove him to become Batman, the empathy he held for the people who suffered everyday, the love for his kids that saved him everyday-  everything.

“Wanda.” She finally said, the words short and clipped, still heavy with anger and something so-very-familiar. “My name is Wanda.”

Bruce knew over a hundred languages, had painstakingly trained his ear to be able to identify accents of all kinds.

He didn’t recognize this one.

Chapter Text

Eventually, Shuri let go of Peter, standing up and crossing the space as if to physically shake off the grief that had briefly connected them. “It is late. I should check and see how our dinner stores are coming along.” Shuri said.

“Dinner?” Peter repeated, perking up. He might be getting food at school now, but it wasn’t anywhere nearly enough for his appetite. His mouth was salivating at the idea of food being available.

Shuri turned around, a smile coming back to her face. “Yes, dinner. Would you like to have some with us?” 

“Yes!” Peter jumped up, and Shuri laughed. 

She opened the door and led him deeper inside the building. She pointed out a few rooms to him as they walked down the hall. Some were bedrooms with as many as six kids inside, another room was filled with clothes that came in all sizes. Then she led him to the final door, and here she opened it to show a huge stockpile of food. 

“How did you get all this?” Peter asked in amazement. 

“Some of this was here already.” Shuri said. “But I took one of the younger children with me to the food bank and told them our parents were at work. Over the course of the week, I sent similar pairs over with various excuses, and…a few other such projects.”

“Projects?” Peter repeated. 

“Not strictly legal projects, perhaps, but a victimless crime I believe.” Shuri said, and then she turned around to look at Peter, her gaze defiant, as if daring Peter to question her further. 

A part of him thought he should. He’d learned the last time he was thirteen that he should never stand by, that he should always step forward and do the right thing. 

But there were so many heartbeats in this building alone, and not one of them sounded like the solid beat of an adult. He thought of little ‘Ro’ on the front steps when they entered, how skinny Marcus was, how Shuri had been dropped in another dimension with no resources, no identification, and had immediately taken responsibility for others. 

What had he done since getting here? Terrified a mugger and joined a school apparently.

The ‘right thing’ didn’t seem as straight-forward to him as it had always been before. 

Peter didn’t think anyone benefited from a bunch of kids starving.

“Okay.” He said softly, heart unsettled but unwilling to push further.

Shuri nodded and turned around, her shoulders softening with Peter’s lack of resistance. After that, she led him to the kitchen where an older kid who introduced themself as ‘Avery’ was running the kitchen and making a giant pot of chili. 

“Should all be ready in ‘bout twenty minutes.” They said. 

“Excellent, I’ll let the others know. It will be a good chance to show Peter around.” Shuri said.

And show him she did. The house was fairly large, but not large enough to easily house everyone who lived there. Shuri must have introduced him to at least twenty other kids as she showed him the various ‘bedrooms’ in the place. A rough half of them were natives to this dimension, the other half were transplants like him. 

As they walked from room to room, Peter tried not to think about who they might find here, who might yet still be found. It was hard not to though, MJ and Ned’s fate hovered in the back of his mind as they existed in that nebulous place of ‘perfectly fine’ and ‘in real trouble’.

“What do they think is happening with us?” Peter asked when they ended up back at her lab. “Did you…tell them…?”

“Yes.” Shuri said. “They were quite skeptical at first, but the more children we brought in, the more of them started to believe me. After all,” And here, a wry expression came onto her face. “There are aliens flying through the sky everyday and a man dresses up like a bat to beat people up. Why shouldn’t alternate dimensions exist too?” Peter got the sense she was quoting someone there.

“I want to say this dimension is so weird, but… ours really isn’t that much better, is it?” Peter asked reluctantly. 

Shuri laughed. “Not at all.” She agreed. 

“Hey! Chili’s done if you brats wanna eat!” Avery shouted, their words immediately answered by a stampede of rushing feet. 

Peter didn’t waste another second, not even waiting to be excused as he ran back to the kitchen. Even then, he found himself behind a majority of the kids, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for the line to move. 

Shuri was the last to enter the room, a slow and purposeful sense to her every step. Peter glanced back, briefly meeting her eyes, and he understood.

This too, was part of her responsibilities. To be the last one fed even when there was plenty.

Peter felt a flicker of guilt- how selfish could he be? There were other kids in line, what if there wasn’t enough because he took a bowl even though he didn’t belong here-

“Eat up.” Avery said as they put a generous helping of chili in his cracked bowl. “Ya look like you ain’t eat’n in days kid.”

Peter hesitated, his mouth dry, but Avery had already turned away, dismissing him. They smiled as they put another helping of chili in another kid’s bowl. “Everyone eats. No exceptions.” They said.

Peter slowly stepped out of line, carefully holding his cracked bowl as if it was the most precious thing on the planet. Maybe it was. 

“Heyyy kid, ya wanna sit with us?” Marcus called out.

Peter glanced over and saw Marcus sitting on a moth-eaten couch with three others. One of them was little Ro from earlier, the youngest by far, but the other two were unfamiliar faces. They were also so squished together, Peter wasn’t sure where he was supposed to sit.

Still, it was better than standing around in the middle of the room and staring at everyone, so Peter walked over until he was standing by the couch instead. “My name’s Peter.” He said. “Not kid.”

Marcus smirked. “Kay Percy. Well, ya already know my name. This is ‘Rora, but everyone calls her Ro.”

“Hi.” The girl said before diving straight back into her chili. 

“This her older brother Josh-” Josh waved a hand, but didn’t even look up from his food. “ ‘N’ her older sister Mary.”

“Nice to meet you Peter. Sorry these two are animals.” Mary grinned and elbowed Josh in the side, who retaliated by kicking her ankle. He still didn’t look up from the food.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” Peter said, and he had to admit that he felt a little better at the introductions. He was pretty sure he’d seen them all earlier during Shuri’s tour, but most of the names had blended together in his mind. “So-uh. Are you all…?”

“From here?” Marcus quirked an eyebrow up. “Yeah, pretty much. Most of the people who are-eh, new in town we’ll say, kinda group up together, but you weren’t really drifting towards anyone so I figure we can make an exception.”

“Awww, Marcus has a heart. How sweet.” Josh said just as the last bite of chili disappeared from his bowl.

A look of annoyance crossed Marcus’s face as he glared. “Shut up.” Peter got the feeling that he would have retaliated more physically if it wasn’t for Rora sitting between them.

Josh snickered, but finally looked at Peter. “Oh, he’s a baby.”

Peter bristled. “I am not! I’m 13!”

Marcus and Josh looked at each other. “Baby.” They both declared at the same time.

Mary shoved Josh with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t listen to them.” She advised. “They grew up in a barn.”

“If I had a barn, what did you have?” Josh shot back. “The woods?”

“Where did you think we found you?”

Marcus snickered and then patted the arm of the couch. “Stop standin’ ‘round kid, sit.”

Peter sat, a little awkwardly, a little uncomfortably, but he sat. As the kids around him kept bantering, little jostles and jabs tossed around with the easy affection that came from knowing each other for a long time, he found himself relaxing. 

This wasn’t his world. These people weren’t Ned and MJ. But for a moment, he could pretend and that was almost enough.

He could convince himself it was, at least for a short while.

At some point though, he looked around and saw Shuri was missing. The dream shattered and he stood back up. “Anyone see where Shuri went?” He asked.

“Probably back to her office.” Marcus shrugged. “Boss never sticks around for long.”

Peter was tempted to move on, keep talking to his tentative new friends, but the thought of Shuri quietly stepping away, working alone while everyone else relaxed here…It left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“See you around.” He said as he quickly excused himself and returned to the lab.

Sure enough, Shuri was there. She was bent over a computer, working on what looked like someone else’s identity.

“Hey.” Peter said, hovering in the door frame.

Shuri looked up. “Peter, hello. Is something wrong?”

Peter hesitated, but shook his head and stepped closer, sitting down in the same chair he’d occupied earlier. “You left.” He managed to say.

Shuri blinked. “Well, yes. I have a lot of work to do, taking care of 23 children.”

Peter frowned, doing the math in his head. “There’s only 22 down there.”

“Yes.” Shuri agreed. “You came upstairs.”

The implication sank into Peter’s head- that Shuri considered him someone to be cared for too. The thought made him jump to his feet. “I-no, you don’t need to- 

“You can stay here too, if you wish. We have space.” Shuri offered. “Not much, and you will be expected to share, but some.”

“Oh-well-uh-“ Peter wanted to say yes. The prospect of living with someone else, of not having to be alone and deal with everything by himself…that there could be someone he could just-talk to. Explain about the green that edged his anger, talk about the troubles of being a teenage super-hero. The idea that he didn’t have to be alone anymore… It was a heady thought, but he couldn’t do it. He’d never be able to keep being Spider-Man a secret if he was sharing a room with someone else, would never have the privacy needed for bandaging wounds if someone was seeing him, worse, paying attention to him, every day. 

He shook his head. “I have school.” He said instead of any of that.

Shuri frowned. “You can go to school from here.” She pointed out.

“It’d be a longer commute though and-and I have my own place and everything.” Peter said, a little desperately.

“That is stupid. We are stronger together.” Shuri squinted at Peter. “Did you damage your brain in the transfer perhaps?”

“I-look, I just- I can’t stay here, okay? I’m sorry.” Peter stepped back, hands curling around himself. “I just can’t do it.” Please stop asking me, please- just drop it, let me go-

Shuri pursed her lips and stood up. “Fine. I can’t keep you here.”

Peter’s shoulders drooped. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She warned, crossing the room to her table of gadgets. She tossed something small and black to him. “Keep that on you. Check in everyday. If you don’t, I’m going to track you down, and I will not be happy at you for blowing me off.”

Peter blushed, but dutifully tucked the small device into his pocket. “Yes ma’am.” He muttered. “I understand.”

“Good. Now get out of here, I have work to do.” Shuri waved him off and turned around.

Peter rushed out of the room, not wanting to wait around in case she changed her mind. 

Running down the stairs, he paused at the front door. He could still hear the laughter and chatter of children echoing through the house. 

A part of his instincts even now yelled at him to turn around, to join them. He wanted to, the want gnawed at his bones, made his feet itch.

Spider-Man. You have a responsibility. Peter stiffened his spine and left, gently closing the door behind him.