Peter hears a dirge wherever he goes these days. It hums like a bee underneath all the quips, the conversations, the day-to-day activities. It is quite difficult to pinpoint and needs to be concentrated on. He does not regret his distance from others, to make sure they do not get tangled in his webs of misery. He is already hanging by a loose thread, relieving his last moments, when Fate covertly throws someone in his way.
He had been trying to test his new suit, further enhanced and his web shooters, when he met them. It was not sudden like it happens in movies, where one of the leads looks at the other in surprise. Peter had anticipated them coming, from the shadows, silent, judging, and carefully measured steps.
He hadn’t the wave of slight understanding, that a 'Red Hood' would capture his interest for the span of the next three months.
He has been trying to understand, why he ended up in this universe, why Strange had not given up on him like everyone else. Staying attached to someone like him would mean that their death is near.
Strange had been persistently adamant (when is he not ?) , talking about some protective feeling he did not understand-
‘Spider-man, do not argue with me. I will continue to help you, this is something I feel I should do. There are some very unexplained matters in this universe, none that evades my memory in such close perspectives. Yet, I feel that might be so here.’
Strange was too quick for his own good. No wonder he had caught onto something being wrong. The rest of the residing heroes, not so much.Being wiped out from others’ memory feels like death, in a close way. To know you are standing and people look at you as if you don’t exist. As if you are a ghost.
That is what being ‘dead’ is. Death surrounds Peter like a miasma, a leech who intends to suck the life out of him, to bring him to his knees, to pray for forgiveness to someone he didn’t anger.
Or did he?
Angel of death, peeks, and snickers from his shoulders.
He knows that, better than anyone else. He understands the extent of the futility he has to endure, to make sure people stay 10 kilometres away from him. Maybe he should just wear a ‘Don’t Come Near Me’ poster, along with pesticide spray. Because that’s what people feel like, nowadays. But, then they come up and his entire world stops revolving around the same sun.
He had been trying to outrun the vigilantes of this universe and making sure they did not follow him to his hideout. A big problem. All the vigilantes are stubborn kids who apparently found a kindred spirit in his own stubbornness, and now that he is here, they want to help him.
That never ends well for Peter and the others.
He knows that. He knows that. He knows that. Repeating like a mantra, he tries to swat away the Teen Titans and Young Justice. Even the Justice League.
God, Peter wishes he could catch a break. This brings him back to this meeting, where he is forced to attend and answer questions.
Somedays he is grateful for Karen, who entertains him enough, to make him go through the absence of Ned and MJ.He is naïve, in these ways. Pining after affection, when affection dare not look at him or even glance at him.
The meeting has this universe’s heroes, the major ones, especially the Bat, and his merry band of Robins. The robins who grew up and left their mother’s nest. Nightwing, Red Robin, Spoiler, Signal, Batgirl or Black Bat, and the current Robin.
He detests this parental affection they have between all of them. He detests it, and he wishes to bask in the same affection, have someone look at him the way the Bat looks at his children. Because that is what they are. His children. It does not require a lot of time for Peter to realize Bruce Wayne is Batman.
He has hacked into the database with a consistent effort which should make Ned proud, taking time to break down the firewalls. Peter knows paranoia better than anyone else. He knows the importance of secret identities and family. So, he keeps his mouth shut. Locks up this knowledge. After all, knowledge is power, and Peter has paid for this heavily the last time he went for a duel.
Although Batman seems to be more cunning than Quentin. That is there as well. There is a naturally strategic mind, in those sharp eyes. He discerns more than he lets on. Black Widow would like him a lot. They might even be buddy-buddy sipping coffee, planning stake-outs, like friendly dates.
He meets Red Hood at last.
The man comes striding in, making himself known like some Shakespearean hero.
Why that comparison came into Peter’s mind he won’t be able to tell.
It feels like a good joke to share with the vigilante later on. If, Peter would be there.
The meeting feels like a grand performance for Peter. To throw on another mask and pretend he is a normal vigilante. Not a traumatized teenager with anger issues, who dropped into this universe because he was on a mission, to understand some energy waves, decidedly extra-terrestrial of origin, starting in New York. Strange and Wong had accompanied him. They told him a large number of such waves opening up after the multiverse experience, was not a good sign. It meant a channel had opened up, wherein there was a focal point of these paths. Something was out of place and was triggering the collapse, or possible incursion of universes.
Peter quite pointedly avoided their direct glances at him. He knew this was the universe’s way of saying you hit the Unlucky Hero bingo, where the rows were marked down with him falling into another universe, like a normal Tuesday. Two business days are not enough for this problem to be fixed. Strange said ‘ We will be quick’ meaning in multiversal travel – ‘Expect two months at least’.
They communicate in dreams, which sounds creepy and not the way he wants to wake up, dreaming of wizards in beards.
The last message he had received, while giving them updates was just yesterday. There was another presence this time. A woman who had a really good and creative headband(props to her marketing team), ears, and eye make-up was done in a glossy sort of manner. He had once seen one of the girls in his high school do that.
The woman had looked at him in interest and said something that would haunt him a lot.
‘Someone used to tell me, that grief is love with no place to go.’
Regardless, Peter had woken up with tears streaming down his face.
An added bonus in his dreams.
- Post dream crying? Check
- Mental health down the drain? Check.
“We have inferred no hostile intentions from you, for now. However, we would like to prepare for contingencies for this unexpected dimensional travelling, to ensure that you do not turn out to be otherwise ,,” Batsy said.
‘Good thinking, I am a live bomb ready to self-detonate anytime.’
“I assure you, having a grandiose villainous career would have been my starting plan, if I had known the pay for this job was so bad. Not to mention the cons overweigh the pros.”
No one had been expecting this, because almost a lot of people laughed or snorted hearing that. Batman, on the other hand, his eyebrow twitched.
The Robins giggled as well, except the kid who according to Peter, looked like he walked out of Assassin’s Creed. He frowned and his eyebrow twitched like Batsy’s.
“There would be routine patrols and checkups in the place you are staying in, which would be provided by the League. If needed the Titans or the Young Justice would help you with any adjustment. We wouldn’t force you to share your identity or any details, confidentiality is considered an accepted practice here. There would be no attempt of blackmailing or likewise any kind of breach of privacy, using your personal life, the League guarantees you that.”
Peter looked at the two groups of Titans and Young Justice. The latter looked to be around his age group, which in hindsight said enough about this world’s crime rates. The international organizations surely have a field day.
‘Caring for me? Yeah, that never goes well,’ he wanted to say.
“And finally, Spider-man, a question we have been intending to ask, quite an important one -does your webs come out of your anywhere else except your wrists ?”
“….”
“No, only my wrists”
Now, Peter never expected that he would get a repeat of what he said to his other alternate self. Guess, everything has its first.
----
He was being followed. Again. He could tell, it was someone who had an imposing figure like Bruce. Or even Superman.
But, they were good at trailing, in a predatory way.
It felt like a hunt wherein, Peter was the lowly spider, who was hunted by a leopard or a tiger.
Spiders are supposed to be natural hunters, yet here he is, struggling to out-swing them.
Talk about failure as his spirit animal.
‘Running from problems Parker? This should be your official motto,’ His inner voice taunted.
They both entered into an alley, unconscious of the directions both took.
He could see them now.
Red Hood.
The anti-hero, of the lot.
He was in the most precise of terms, a collection of weaponry stuck to one body, who had not skipped out on any gym day.
“Spider-man, this is Red Hood. I am the one they have assigned to you today.”
“This feels like a babysitting process.”
“Trust me, I know. I had to literally stop myself from throwing a large punch at whoever made the schedule.”
“I thought you worked alone ?” Peter inquired curiously.
“I do. And sometimes I have a team. This is an unconventional situation. That’s why Batman requested the assistance of everyone. Zatanna said anomalies occurring means a sign there is a collapse of system or order. He does not want you out of sight to cause any more issues."
‘Wow, the trust issues of this guy. Coming from me, that sounds hypocritically invalid.’
“Ah, a helicopter mom. I get that.”
Red Hood seemed to chuckle and smirk.
He can do this.
Pretend to be normal and then leave when Strange comes.
---
He was wrong.
Red Hood or Jason is quite close to his age. He died and was resurrected because of some Lazarus Pit. He suffered from homicidal rage and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, all effects of the Pit.
They share stories when they meet up, which seems to be a lot, and one story brings up Jason’s flashback episode. Peter had long since made his own face reveal ( he had nothing to lose), Jason following soon after. The latter never reports back to the headquarters, what he and Peter share. That is their secret, hidden for their eyes to see, in that moment, for eternity.
Peter had never met anyone who saw Death as closely as Jason. To breathe in that soil and wake up clawing from one’s own grave. It sounds like a deathly match.
‘Hah, a pun’ thought Peter.
But, Death can never touch the goodness of the heart. Cannot kill that in any way.
Jason stands as an example of that. He is smart, capable, and kind-hearted in the ways most people would not see him. He makes fun jokes and his love for classical literature astounds Peter. Jason talks of how he was labelled as a crime lord and a ‘gangster’, for the entirety of his regained life. He felt unseen by everyone, and declined any help or support, especially from his family.
“I struggled with acceptance, there was this rage inside of me, that threatened to burst forth and I got scared of myself. It was like looking in the mirror, praying for a known face to see. My adoptive father and I had this strained relationship. But, we are better now, surprisingly.”
Violence and love often serve as the precipice of each other. Jason has visited both the lands. He is existing in the middle. Yet, he shines brilliantly, to Peter. He is hopeful and makes Peter hope. Hope for something he can believe in.
Maybe, a wish to be closer in mind and soul. Not in the heart. Not when Peter’s own heart rots like a dead rat and his hands stink of anger. He cannot bargain such a nasty object for Jason’s, which is alive.
So, he longs for what would have been. He does that a lot these days.
An incident occurs while they are patrolling. There is a report of drugs being shipped to nearby cities, through some dealers who traffick kids too. When he gets the report, Peter can feel his anger slipping through, jaw tensed ready to take it out on a poor piece of paper. As if the numbers can atone for the actions of the dealers. He tries to control his breathing, in and out, in and out, like Aunty May taught him. It does not get better.
Red Hood, who was briefing him on the details with Batman, looks at him questioningly.
‘That’s right,’ Peter thought ‘they have not seen the monster under this mask’.
The dealing was happening at Gotham Docks, located at the mouth of the Miller Harbor in Cape Carmine, apparently located on the southern peninsula of the infamous East End district.
They were waiting for half an hour, he and Red Hood were behind one of the crates, left abandoned, observing the warehouse, from where the goods are taken to the loading shipping container. There seems to be some inside authority, make sure there is no lawful interference.
Peter zoned in at a spot suddenly illuminated by the speck of a flashlight. It was midnight. Average human sight needed better tech and senses to understand that. Thankfully he had both. Karen, zoomed in easily, using night vision. Jason, had his own night vision goggles, however this universe did not have a Tony Stark and nanobots. Karen was the best part of his suit definitely. She was almost lost due to the multiverse fiasco, had Peter not made sure to add in additional backups regarding identity, because of his paranoid ass. He had to give credit to Tony for that.
“ -and that’s why you should not be left on stake-outs alone,” continued Jason with the frown of a disappointed teacher. Peter, tried to trace back their conversation.
He could not remember it at all. Well, fuck.
“I can handle it on my own. Before I had been doing this with my own hands. For a long time ,” he bit back with a defensive edge.
“A long time eh ?”
The thing is Peter never came clean on what happened to him, why he was like this, broken, angry. It was no use. He would go back and therefore, just shared what was the basic details, like his uncle dying, not Tony dying because of him or May.
He left out, the unnecessary parts. There was a sudden gravel leaden voice and Batman spoke out a list of orders. Seems like Batsy got to see the target too.
“Approach the target carefully and do not engage on your own.”
Peter was built for this. He readied himself and silently tailed the first target, the one he saw, slithering in the shadows. Jason was right behind him, on the tail of another target he had focused on.
The guy who was in his mid-twenties, looked scraggly, wore clothes that seemed to dwarf on him, and was shouting orders at the second target. Before, he could say another word, Peter who had been itching to jump and subdue, stilled completely.
There was another heartbeat. And a panicked breathing.
There was a loud cry and sobbing, two hurried steps, when a child appeared, no older than fourteen. He had brown hair, and freckles and was malnourished, like he was starved of food for the past two months.
The first guy had a gun, he was pointing it toward the child, with cruel body language, intending to shoot.
A flash of random thoughts and images passed by.
Then the guy was on the ground, and Peter’s knuckles were bloodied. The ‘Scraggly Guy’, had a broken nose, and teeth, and his face looked to be going on to become the contender for the ‘Best Human Pancake’.
Red Hood was trying to stop him and Batman, had a stun gun pointed in his direction. Finally, Peter could hear the voices.
“Spider-man stop !! You are going to fatally injure the guy,” Batman’s voice rang loud and clear.
Peter, dropped him and looked at his hands. He should pull his punches, why did he do that? He could barely face the other two.
“He pulled out a gun first,” Peter croaked, realising he had been shouting.
He fled away, shame overcoming his entire reasoning. Blind fury was not normal for Peter. When they ask him to report at the Watchtower, he does not get questions or admonitions. Peter, kinda wished he did.
-------
Strange finally comes and opens a portal.
He rushes towards Peter and says the same words Peter had been imagining-
“It’s good to see you again kid”.
Peter wakes up and stares blankly at the ceiling. It’s a nice dream.
He does this a lot as well.
Peter knows when he is being accepted into a family. He helps them with the understanding of the alien technology, Bruce did a lot but, Stark tech was years ahead.
Enhances the suits of the heroes, Donna, Nightwing, and all. They give him good hugs and fist bumps. He feels the start of the family bonding. Parker luck never allows him to have such a good fate. He knows the sacrifice. He has a bit of happiness- the universe takes away some paternal figure.
‘He has seen this story before and he definitely disliked the ending’.
Jason seems to want something more of him. He looks at him in that way.
If the gaze could talk about a love unspoken in words, he has been mastering that, for a long time.
One day while they are having burgers, he brings it up, the root cause of Peter’s sudden distance.
“I feel you have become an important part of my life,” he says while smiling bashfully.
Peter who was about to eat, freezes and looks at his hands.
Yes, he can still see the blood and misery on both of them.
He smiles and returns the glance with a few choice words in his heart.
‘I wish life allowed me more of you, in every way’
------
There is a gala, where the heroes are celebrating some occasion. He thinks they do not need a reason to party. They all seem happy and content in their shared memories of being in this ungrateful vocation. Peter’s sickness must not spread to them. It is contagious. He hopes it does not.
There is a toast and before Peter even knows ( did he dissociate ?) he looks at all of the expectant eyes, he has been holding a flute of champagne and they want a speech.
Peter clears his throat, no words should be stuck.
He puts forward a few words here and there for all.
“To be with you all here is a joy for me as well. I can never forget how I was definitely not handcuffed at first sight and thrown in a dungeon; it is always better to defy assumptions. Jokes aside, I genuinely feel that this hospitability, warmth of a new fa- team that you gave me, the bonds that I made would be a part of me, even when I leave .”
Peter tasted the word ‘Family’, he almost did use that word, unconsciously.
He could feel the memories rushing in – late-night hacking, discussing Star Wars, watching movies with MJ on feminism, arguing with Happy, almost burning, or cooking with May and eating cheeseburgers with Tony. He had felt his life ending a lot of times, every time it did, one part of his soul got wrenched away as well. He had no wish to talk to anyone about this.
He shouldn’t say anything, it was all his fault after all. Peter never wanted to suffer. However, suffering rarely comes with a welcome sign. He talked in his speech, feeling like he had lost control over his mouth, the words were not his own.
Once started it seemed like a dam had been broken down.
“ I had …. lost a lot. It was not my fault, but it was not theirs either. It begs the question of how much did you have to lose before you could realise that maybe your presence might not be at fault but the disease that clings onto people, it accumulates and takes their lives .” ‘Stop it, Parker, stop spiralling’ he looked at the ceiling, tearsnotearsplease ringing in his mouth, “I wish people just let me be when I say they do not know how much this hand has murdered, to feel this anger. It comes down to how much I have to give before it stops. The funny thing is the answer seems to be something I have been dreading to acknowledge.”
He stops short of breath and can feel the pity in their gazes. It drips down and announces ‘How pathetic of you Spider-man’ . That’s right, he is in his suit ( he forced his identity to be kept a secret), no one can see his face, and his mask is on, who does he have to fear?
The nanosuit itches a bit, asking him to allow his tears to fall freely.
There is a sharp draw of breath and before anyone can ask him, he runs away.
Like he usually does from everything.
When he enters the room given to him, forced down by Batman and even Wonder Woman, he sees the notebook where he drew the formulas for the webs and suits.
He storms over and tears down the pages, destroys the notebook.
Peter screams to silence the ghosts living inside of him, he screams for the first time since Ben, Tony, and May’s death. Since his death. That day after two hours Peter Parker lies down on the floor, mirror broken, shards piercing some parts of his wrist, and healing powers kicking in, fixing those wounds.
There are no marks or scars on his wrists. No marks for the claws of Death.
The next day Jason comes over and knocks at his door. Peter who has given up on his own sorry state, opens the door and smiles awkwardly.
The latter shrugs and enters, furrowed brows making his good-looking face seem weird.
‘Not weird, just Daddy Dom Cool coming to lecture me’ Peter thinks amused.
“And you call me dramatic. Literally running away, after giving everyone secondhand trauma.”
“I have said enough several times, the foundation of selling this superhero schtick is to make myself dramatic. Do you think I go in there and read out a few lines from Richard III? No, I make jokes about my own tragic life .”
If people could be incredulous while concerned, Jason nailed that look.
He wanted to ask something Peter could tell. He wished this did not make him look like a petty, immature person. It would look exactly like that in hindsight which Peter was way past confirming.
“I think everything is fine and you need to leave”.
Jason who had brought tacos for Peter ( he could understand that with his enhanced sense of smell), looked at him seriously this time. The brunt of the words falling onto him.
“I hope that you are joking. Because if you are not, I need you to come back to your senses.”
“This is not a joke. I do not wish to hurt you, Jason. This is a ‘me’ problem, and I am barely keeping myself on the edge of sanity. Do not lengthen my impatience.”
Peter looked down. He was a bad liar, never able to look anyone in the eye while lying. That being said, he was feeling guilty as well. It was unfair to the only person who showed him the last dredge of kindness. If he could rewind back time, then maybe it would not have come down to this moment. One less of a heart to tear.
He could hear movements across the floor, and two combat boots stood across his bare-clad feet.
“Do you really wish me to leave? Or is it the anger inside of you pushing people out?”
Silence, Peter had learned, was a beautiful and deadly language. Today, he will make Jason feel either one side of it.
“I have been there and done that. Whatever you are doing right now, I have covered all the steps. Why are you so intent on self-sabotaging yourself? It is painful Peter, I feel to a certain extent, the guilt you carry. It fucking breaks you apart. But, either you grow around grief or let grief grow around you. You have to choose Peter. Does what we have, mean nothing to you ?”
It always comes down to choosing .
Peter thinks back to the warmth he felt, to the happiness and drinks in all of it, for one last time. He will destroy this garden on his own after all. The garden he grew, nurtured, and loved.
“I believe you have a patrol to finish Red Hood.”
There is a tense moment of heartbeats fighting against ribcages, and Peter dares not to look up. When he does, the shutters have closed down, winter sets in those eyes, and he sees exile.
Jason’s eyes are the prettiest. There is truly no mirror that can speak more than the eyes of a kind soul.
“You are the most selfish creature I have ever had the unfortunate happenstance of meeting”
‘He used difficult words with me. Fuck, this might be it.’
“I am glad you got to know the real me,” Peter sighs with an indifferent shrug.
He leaves, and the food is left there, cold, forgotten. But, he forgets to give back the heart he carries with himself.
The days go on and on.
Strange finally appears and apologises for the delay. The strange lady is with her, she is looking at him in a different light.
Peter feels weary and tired. Like he has been pretending for far too long.
So, he leans down and begs them to take him home.
He leaves. Not before sending his own version of goodbye cards.
He asks Karen to send all the heroes a holographic version of him giving out a speech. In that speech, he apologises for the scene he made, he informs them of the help that has dropped by and he shows his gratitude for it. He does it while being in his suit, trying to make it professional, to compartmentalize, yet failing. Lastly, he sends a special message out to Red Hood, a personal one, to make up for the pain he caused.
He looks at the room he made his home and chuckles in shame. Peter once again remembers May’s attempts at cooking, Tony’s hug, and Happy’s chiding. He decides home for him was a wasteland long back. He can only pretend it to be one not stinking of death, but, rather one of hope, sunshine, and daisies.
Peter steps back and leaves again.
—--
Jason had been in the worst mood for the last three days. The slump had made him more angry and bitter which was seen in his post Lazarus Days. Something he had been proud of pulling himself back together. He had been making progress, silently reconciling with the other members, trying to be the ‘Big bro’ for Damian and maybe even Tim. They had an uncomfortable talk. Yes, it does not get better, but , there is a bit of peace, nowadays when they are in the same room. Much to the gratitude of Duke, Dick and Stephanie.
Things were happening smoothly when he came over.
He came like a hurricane and up-ended his seemingly stable world. Now, Jason knew some stuff about a world where you cannot keep your foot on, he had been part of that quicksand, he had grown from there, gone to stable ground. With Peter, he was not sure anymore. There was this mess of complicated feelings.
He was building his castle of dreams, obliviousness costing him the only one he wanted.
The incident with Peter made him want to throw things, rage around and shout.
He could see the pain in Peter, but he never tried to truly understand him. That was his fault.
It had been one day since Peter left. He got the message from Dickwing.
‘Heard your lover boy left. He sent us a holographic video message apologizing for what happened at the gala. You should check it out.’
Jason saw the video. He could feel the superficiality of Peter’s words from his posture and body movement. There was a rigidity and sadness in him.
The video ended with a half-assed goodbye.
‘Anti-climactic bastard, pulling this on everyone’
While going through his phone, he saw an unknown number sending a message, received in his chat box. He had forgotten to charge his phone while patrolling and had left it in his safehouse. The comms worked enough.
He opened it, curiously wondering who would send him a message and how they would get his number. Considering hacking and other potential routes, he forwards the number to Barbara and opens the chat box cautiously.
‘Well, the only thing they got to hack would be downloaded ebooks of romance novels’.
It was a one-line statement.
Something simple and direct.
When Jason first met Peter Parker he should have known the guy had a thing for dramatics. He should have known and understood the anger at one’s own self, which he did too. The pain he mostly felt at shoving Jason away. But, the thing is Jason had always been a child with attachment issues. That’s why he came back from the dead. He refused to let go of this person. They were not planets orbiting different paths, if needed to be Jason would create a new orbit for their meeting. Cosmic soulmate shit or whatever.
He was remarkably blind to Peter’s stupidity, but not anymore.
Pocketing his phone, he mutters some curses and takes out his helmet.
It was time to visit a dear friend of his. Maybe, make a request.
He has a damsel to save and win over.
The message on his phone read :
If I loved you less, I might be able to speak about it more.