The Reset
“You know you can’t take this back?” Strange asked, his voice solemn for the young hero's decision. The choice was selfless, even if he had put himself in this situation. There was silence as a response, the seconds ticked on before it was finally broken.
“You say that like I have anyone left.” Peter responded, his voice tired from the previous fight and overall week he had. He knew there were other universes, other chances. Why not take it? He would miss what little he had left, MJ, Ned, even Happy. But they would be better off without him. Ned and MJ would get into MIT and be able to live on, safe, happy, better without him. He knew it was the truth. What right did he have to curse them with his rotten Parker luck. He lost so much ever since he got the powers and even before that. His parents, uncle Ben, Tony, and now May. Losing his friends wasn’t an option. No matter what he faced, he wouldn’t let anyone else get hurt because of him.
“I have no way of knowing where you will be sent, Peter. I won’t be able to contact you later. I would remember you, you won’t even be in this world. Where you go… will have no Spiderman, will have no Peter Parker.” Strange tried to reason between the choices.
“I can just have them forget you, leaving doesn’t have to be-” Strange started before he was cut off.
“Please? I can’t stay here. They deserve better.” Peter pleaded as he looked up at Strange, his eyes tired and full of grief. It was a bitter sight for the man. Maybe it could have been different. Maybe it could.
“Fine. Do you want to take anything? I can try-”
“Just do it.” Peter couldn’t risk another minute. They both knew it.
Sirens. Beeping horns. Yelling and chatter.
Those were the first things Peter heard.
Rotting garbage. Wet mildew.
The first things he smelt, an unpleasant sensation that caused his sensory ridden brain to awaken and open his eyes.
Bright- to bright.
Rising to his feet, he blanched and caught himself on a brick wall, his hands sticking to the rough surface.
Opening his eyes as they slowly adjusted to the swimming light of his vision he came to realize something was… wrong.
Was he always this short? He had grown quite a bit, so it didn’t feel right.
Where was he?
What had happened?
Oh.
MIT, Strange, the Goblin, May, his alternate selves.
May.
The feeling of overwhelming pressure on his chest resurfaces as the grief hits him like a bus. Peter stumbles to his feet, tired and dreary as he carries his to small body out of the alley. Even through the fog he can realize his height line is a good half a foot or so shorter than he should be, it's wrong. Everything is wrong and yet he agreed to it. Dread pools in his gut as he realizes the weight of his actions, his choice, his fate. Death and loss weren’t new to him, hell he’d died before with the snap. Did this universe have the snap? Or was it free from the horrors that Thanos brought with him? Maybe in this universe the snap was never reversed. Maybe in this universe Tony Stark was still alive, not having given it all yet. Was there even Thanos? Was there even Tony Stark?
Peter’s head ached, a deep seated pain that would last for days from the whiplash of events that had led him here. Finally, he made his way out of the alley and into the streets of… New York? No, it wasn’t possible. But he couldn't mistake the crowded city streets, the smells of trash and street vendors that filled the airs of a bustling city day. Peter rushed forward onto the side walking, eyes wide and heart racing as he assessed the situation. Among the crowded street he managed to stumble his way over tp a newspaper box, it was a fifty cent fee, but through the locked plastic and metal box, he could see the papers' date. May 12th 2014. How did this happen? Was he brought back? In 2014, how old was he? 14? 14. Maybe that explained his smaller size, although he hadn’t taken a good look at himself yet.
Glancing up, Peter stared at himself in the window of the convenience store the papers were in front of. He was definitely onto something with his previous thought process, he was younger. Probably 14 if his perception wasn’t too off, and it wasn’t. Even if he was a year before his spider bite, he certainly still had his powers if his sight and lack of glasses was anything to go by. He was around 5;5, relatively scrawny with underlying muscle. His brown hair was messy, if not a bit matted, and he was wearing a sweater and jeans that were too big for him, even the converse he had on were tied up on his ankles to keep them on. He was very different from the scrawny asthma ridden teenager he was in his past life… past universe? He didn’t have the patience to think about all the prospects right now, currently he should focus on getting information and not the detriments his situation would shine on philosophical studies. Or psychological, cause frankly he wasn’t sure if he was going insane.
“No, okay- just… maybe May is in this universe?... Maybe Ben is still alive Maybe I can change things.” Peter mumbled to himself, which received a concerned side eye from the vagrant sitting outside of the convenience store nursing a coffee and pre packaged muffin he had gotten from inside.
Quickly leaving, Peter decided to simply walk to his and May’s old apartment since he didn’t have a suit or anything to disguise his appearance at the moment. Making quick work of the familiar streets, the streets were familiar, thats a good sign. Same signs, same names, same city. Hopefully Aunt May would be another similar factor among the worlds. Maybe even Uncle Ben! That thought put a rush in his step as he weaved his way around and through the strangers around him, no one sparking a glance at the disheveled teenager. Peter knew people were distant to the world around them, and for once he was grateful no one cared. If not a bit concerned. But right now, he was Peter Parker, 14 year old Peter Parker, not Spiderman. Besides, Aunt May would care.
Reaching the apartment steps, he ran up, taking two steps at a time until he reached their floor. Finally, standing before the apartment door, he knocked. Giddy with excitement and practically bursting with hope before- an older man opened the door, his face unfamiliar to Peter. Now, caught off guard, Peter stumbled over his words, biting back tears as he realized the implications.
“Ah- I…. does… May Parker live here?” He stuttered out, managing a meager glance at the apartment number to confirm, right apartment, wrong person.
“May… Who? No, no one lives here. Do you need me to call someone for you or-” The man cast Peter a concerned and weary glance, taking stock of the teens appearance.
Immediately Peter began his escape.
“Oh- Wrong Address, it's the floor below. I’m so sorry-” he stuttered out, his breathing shaky as he took a step back, offering a nervous smile before he ran off from the scene, jumping down the stairwell and stumbling over his feet as he ran out of the apartment building.
Doctor Strange's words rang fresh in his mind as he ran out of the stairwell and into the street, aimlessly running as far as his feet could carry him. No Peter Parker, no Spiderman, No Peter Parker. He didn’t exist, he never existed. So even if May was somewhere, even if his family was somewhere, they wouldn’t know him. Maybe he could look for MJ and Ned, but the repercussions and fears of bringing on the future he had experienced in the past. He couldn’t risk it, he couldn’t risk them. No, he was alone. All alone-
His running stopped as he realized where he had gone in his panic. Stark… no, Avengers Tower. The classic A and iconic shape mocking him as he stared up at it, horror over taking his features. He was in the past, but a past he knew nothing about. A past where he was and would forever be Spiderman, not Peter Parker. A past where the Avengers were still together and the possible horrors of the accords, the Avengers splitting up, and the eventuality of Thanos would arise. Everything and everyone could die again, at least those he had memories of. Were they even the same? Why of all possibilities, did Strange have to send him here?
Peter hadn’t even realized his breathing was heavy, uneven and panicked, tears spilling from his eyes as he stared up at the tower as it cast a shadow across the city around him. Cold, dark. Like when he was a kid hiding under the covers, like when he got shoved in a locker, like when he had a building crashing down on him, like when he got snapped, like when Mr. Stark died. Like when he woke up. Over and over, everything was suddenly too loud, too bright, too dark, too itchy, too many people, too many memories, too much of everything. He wanted nothing- this hurt everything hurt. He couldn’t focus. He needed to get-
Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, leaning over his fallen body. When had he gotten to the ground? Why were his arms over his ears? Was that blood? His head hurt. Peter needed to get away, the man's voice was too much, everything was too much. He didn’t even notice as he used force to tear his body away and stand up on shaky legs, his instincts guiding him as he suddenly ran as fast as he could away. Away from the tower, from everything.