practically new people
They had been sitting there for what seemed like hours, but were only really five minutes. Stephen Strange walked from one shelf to the other, again and again, looking for something. Anything. Whatever could tell him what he did wrong and how to fix it. Was life supposed to be all fixing things that went terribly wrong? Would peace never be a possibility? Would things never actually go right?
“The Peters” had never been so quiet, just looking at the floor as if the most interesting thing was about to happen to it. Peter-One, as previously entitled in battle, had been struggling with his feelings: happy, they didn’t forget him; anxious, he caused a multiverse crash once more. Peter-Two, the oldest of the Peters, seemed eager to go home, after all, someone was waiting for him: his own MJ, the one and only Mary Jane Watson. Well, considering the circumstances, maybe not literally “one and only”. And there was Peter-Three, fidgeting with his web-shooters and biting his lower lip.
And there was also silence. Silence filling the room and making it seem too small. Silence tensioning up the air. Silence intimidating enough that no one dares break it. If Silence was to be a person, Peter-One could picture him standing tall in the middle of the room, looking down at them with a devious smile and mocking their stupidity. He felt MJ’s hand wrapping around his, a reminder he wasn’t alone.
“Found anything yet?” Peter-Two took the lead and attracted all kinds of stare. He dared to break the unstoppable and unbeatable Silence. For what Peter-One had seen in the battlefield earlier, it was taking long enough; that Peter seemed to be one who acted, straight up into whatever it was in front of him. He sort-of wished he could be like that too. “I can help searching, if it’s useful”
“No, you aren’t touching the books. I’ve found what I needed, I just…” Strange sighed. “I can’t come to a solution now. This outcome was never what I predicted. It wasn’t in any of the possible results of the spell. I’m not going to fix it now”
The annoyance and disappointment in Peter-Two’s face said every word he didn’t. I need it fixed now. I can’t wait. Are you an actual wizard or just pretending to be one? How did this happen if it wasn’t in the possible outcomes? It didn’t take long for his expression to soften, as if he noticed it was visible to all in the room. Peter-Three finally looked up, setting the web-shooters on the table and crossing his arms. It was almost as if the engine was starting up in his head, working something out.
Observant as always, MJ tried to put all together in a list:
- Peter-Two probably had something waiting for him in his universe;
- Peter-Three was an anxious person;
- Peter-One was too quiet. Quieter than usual.
She squeezed her boyfriend’s hand, as if waiting for a response. Waiting for a reaction, a sign he was still in there. The squeeze she received back was enough for the moment, having her attention back to Strange and Wong, who eventually appeared when things sounded too serious. Both the wizards stared at each other, as if having a silent conversation no one was allowed to participate or follow up. The doctor ran his hands through his eyes, as the other wizard propped against the wall nearby.
“We are going to fix this. But for now, you have to do your best with the situation we have,” Wong said, firmly and calmly, as if sure of what he was doing. Which, just for the record, he wasn’t. “We are adapting the situation to our needs. I expect the three of you–” he looked sharply to the Peters “– understand the importance of sticking to what we agree on. The damage at risk isn’t small. You need commitment and responsibility”
Peter-One swallowed hard, his palm sweaty on MJ’s, who didn’t seem to care. Peter-Three stepped forward and all the three of them looked at each other as if they were a gang or something, nodding as if commitment and responsibility were their middle names.
“Therefore, you’ll be spending a lot of time together, to watch over one-another, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re stitched to the other two. You’ll need a name change, that’s for sure. I can’t have you calling out numbers when talking. Stark has a few apartments Mrs. Potts can get for us, so you’ll have no problem with where to stay,” Strange continued, an even speech sounding read in a handbook. “I’ll leave the name choice, room details and whatever else you need to decide in this… relationship… to yourselves. Just be sure to not cause any more damage into timelines, which means: don’t die, don’t tell people about the multiverses and don’t try any, I repeat,” he looked at Ned this time, “sort of magic to fix things. Wong and I will find a solution. That would be all for now”
Peter-Two felt like a kid again, having his teacher instructing him on how to do this and that without causing problems. It felt small. He sat together with the other Peters, MJ letting go of Peter-One’s hand and giving them some space. It felt a little invasive to stand there in a “Peter talk”, so Ned followed her steps. They had the privacy, they had the topics, they had the instructions. But doing according to all of it was harder than it looked.
Again, Peter-Two was the first to speak.
“I assume me and Peter-Three are the ones changing names, as everyone here already knows you as Peter Parker”
“I guess… I’m… I just, I’m sorry about this situation,” Peter-one blurted out. “I didn’t mean to cause all this, to keep you here and…”
“Hey man,” Peter-Three put a hand on the other Peter’s shoulder. There are so many Peters in this conversation. “It’s okay, It’s not your fault. We know that. We are Peters, remember?” His soft smile was comforting, Peter-One felt like he could get used to it. “Since we need to change names, I’m choosing mine already. I kinda have this thing for the name ‘Andrew’. I also think it suits me, you know”
“It does. You look like an Andrew. What do you think I look like?
“You are definitely… a…” his eyes ran head to toe on analyses, as a robot. “Tobey! Yes, Tobey, you are a Tobey. Do we need a last name too? Because Tobey fits with a ‘M’ last name”
Were they really having that conversation? Would things always be this easy around Peters?
“Yeah… Let me think… Mar… Mal… Mag… Magur?”
“Maguir”
“Maguire” Peter said.
“Yes! That’s perfect. Tobey Maguire. I am Tobey Maguire. I like how it sounds. What about yours, Andrew?”
He looked around, his eyes meeting a peculiar shelf.
“Oh, me?” He smiled proudly, showing a sticker on the wooden surface. “I am Andrew Garfield”
And just like that: they had new names. They were almost new people. Just a few more adjustments and they’d be ready for life. Tobey couldn’t avoid how wrong it felt, to start a new life and leave it all behind. Leave her behind. But he wasn’t leaving her, he reassured himself, the wizard said they would find a way. He’d be back to her soon. He had to.
They spent the next five hours discussing their possible life stories: where they were from, how they got here, how they met, why no one seemed to know them… It was fun and easy to spend time with the other two halves of them, conversation came and went as if it was meant to be like that. As if they had to know each other no matter what the multiverse or the timeline had to say about it.
Strange approached them later, telling he’d got a place for the three of them to crash at (considering Peter’s apartment was pretty destroyed after what happened there with the Green Goblin and the bad memories that might come from there). Tobey and Andrew insisted on helping at the Stark Industries since they would be staying at one of their apartments for free, which was unsurprisingly something Peter Parkers would do.
When all the details were finally settled, Peter sat next to a window with MJ and Ned, looking at the sunset. It was a mess and it would probably be selfish of him but he didn’t regret it. Having his friends, his people remembering him was worth anything he could ever go through. The simple thought of looking into their eyes and seeing not a slight of recognition made his heart ache and twist in different angles. He wasn’t sure he could have done it. Especially not without May.
May.
The memory of her hit him as a punch in the stomach, his throat closing and the air feeling tighter on his lungs. She was gone, truly and really. No spell could bring her back. Her parents, Stark, May. They were all gone and he was all alone. Maybe it was his fault, after all. Maybe everyone around him was doomed. MJ and Ned almost didn’t get into MIT. Happy lost the person he loved. Strange risked the universe for him. This was wrong. It felt so unfair. He didn’t deserve it. It was safer to push Strange away before his faith became the same as Stark’s. Wasn’t it?
“What is your head wandering at?” MJ laid her head on his shoulder.
“Did we just have the same day? Because I can’t find the time to focus in one thing to wander at after all that,” she chuckled, playing with his fingers a bit. Was it safer to push her away too? “I should get going with Pe-, I mean, Tobey and Andrew. It’s going to need a little getting used to it,” Peter kissed her forehead as he got up. The empty spot at his shoulder missed the weight of her head and soft hair brushing against his neck.
He looked at Ned and did their unique handshake, all the way through. Strange opened a portal to take each of them home, so he watched as they entered the red sparkling circle and waved bye to him. He took a deep breath before joining his new roommates in a chorus of repetition of the “rules” they had to follow: don’t die, don’t tell people about the multiverses and don’t try to fix things on your own.
The portal closed as soon as Tobey made in, being the last in the line they’d formed. Curious eyes lingered through the place, seeing the modern architecture around the kitchen combined with the living room. It wasn’t too big, but it wasn’t small either. Andrew found a note on the fridge:
Peter,
I’m sorry to hear about your aunt. I hope this place can feel a bit like home while you need it. If there’s anything else I can do to help, please let me know. Happy has my contact info. Stark always cared a lot about you and I don’t think it was for no reason. I make of his intentions to help my own.
Sincerely, Pepper Potts
He didn’t touch it. It wasn’t for him. So he kept walking around and looking at the fine furniture around him: black couch, wooden designed chairs, paintings, a television, a glass table, several small cushions and pillows, a carpet. It was so pretty and so comfortable. There were three doors that led to three different rooms and another one leading to a bathroom. Each of the rooms had a double bed, a writing desk, some shelves and a wardrobe. Andrew found his way into one of the rooms and watched the open wardrobe filled with some clothing. Someone bought them clothes.
It seemed like they already lived here, which gave Tobey an eerie feeling. It seemed like there was someone else living here. Although he recognized how kind this Pepper woman had been, it still felt too odd to walk into a house with other people’s clothes and belongings. He claimed one of the rooms, as he laid down and his back ached for the first time in a while. The medicine was leaving his body and now he could feel the stinging pain of the mark left by Green Goblin’s blade, stitched meticulously up by a nurse friends with the wizard guy. Apparently, he was a real doctor before going into the magic club.
He thought about Mary Jane. God, he missed her. He needed to go back to her. Soon. He made the terrible decision of taking a deep breath and felt once more the stinging in his back. He needed more medicine, but getting up from the bed sounded too painful and elaborate. And he remembered, he wasn’t the only spider-man in this house.
“Peters. Anyone. I need medicine,” he shouted, groaning when sitting up. “I have been stabbed if you don’t really remember”
“Have a familiar memory of it, yes. I’m on it,” Andrew’s footsteps were audible from the room as he made his way into the kitchen and into Tobey’s room. “How’s that wound doing?”
“Oh it’s doing great. It loves to remember me of its presence,” Tobey smiled, grabbing the medicine he was being handled. “I’m starving. Did you talk to Peter about dinner?”
“I’m giving him some time. Figured he’d need it after the day he just had. I’ll check if there’s anything in the kitchen and try to make something up,” Andrew bumped his knee. “Try to rest a bit”
He made his way out of the room, peeking at Peter staring out at the window. He approached him slowly and stood there, silently. He knew his presence was recognized, no words were needed for anything at the moment. Peter understood what Andrew was doing, he was giving him space but also showing him support. Somehow, it made him feel respected, but not lonely. It was what he needed at the moment.
“In a period of less than a year, I lost the two parental figures I had,” he said slowly, his voice hoarse and soft at the same time. “I could have avoided both of them. If I had time, if I were more prepared, if…”
“Insisting in ‘if’s isn’t going to bring them back,” softly, Andrew interrupted the infinite conditions Peter was about to name. “It happened. It hurt you. It still does and it will probably do for a while longer. But if you keep conditioning things you could have done, it’ll hurt twice as much. What’s the point of going back to what could be different if it’s not going to change? What happened was meant to happen. No matter what ‘if’s you picture”
“I wish I could have done something,” he felt like he could cry. “I wish I could have saved them”
“We can’t save everyone, Peter. That’s something you need to have in mind. I think every Peter has the urge to save everyone, but that’s impossible. The longer you keep on trying, the longer you’ll get frustrated with a loss. I know these losses mean something to you, they were close to you. But you can’t stop living to feel guilty for it. You need to find a reason to keep your head up and push through the tide,” Andrew put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You can do this”
He wiped a tear as fast as it came down his eyes. The words hurt. The thought of them hurt. It all hurt. But Andrew was right. Not everyone can be saved. It’s the hardest and most painful truth he ever heard. And all he wanted now was not to think about it, to pretend nothing of the previous events had happened. He wanted to go back to normal.
“Can we have dinner and pretend today didn’t happen?”
“Yes, we can. Tobey said he was starving too, so I guess we should… look something up over this beautiful kitchen?”
“Do you even know how to cook?”
“Well, I can try”
“Please don’t set the house on fire”
“That’s how much you trust our cooking skills? I’m offended”
“I’m a Peter. I know our cooking skills. They are nonexistent”