Rule #1
The sound of the blade slicing through flesh is the first thing Peter hears when the rage and adrenaline stop ringing in his ears. Glancing down, he can see the other end of the pointed metal jutting out at an upward angle from the older Spider-Man’s chest. There’s pain in Peter 2’s eyes, but the shock overshadows it. He lists to one side and then goes down hard.
Peter should catch him. Should do something. Should’ve done something. But he’s frozen - until he isn’t. Until Goblin is standing up with that sick smile slicing across his face and all that fire and fury washes right back over Peter like a violent tide.
“She was there because of you, just like he was,” he taunts, teeth showing as he grins down at man bleeding out at their feet.
Peter takes a breath, facing him with narrowed eyes. There’s a scream building somewhere deep within him, rising with the tide of grief and rage.
“I may have struck the blow. But you,” Goblin’s laugh is grating, “you are the one that killed them.”
Peter feels the other Spider-Man land behind him, senses the throw before it happens. He is catching the cure before he can think. He is reacting on spider sense and instinct because if he pauses, if he thinks, feels - the angry tide will pull him under and bring Norman Osborne drowning down with him.
He almost wants that.
He hopes it hurts when he jabs the cure into the Goblin’s neck. He hopes that somewhere inside Norman, the villain is shrieking and crying and bleeding and begging. Being spared a physical death is more of a mercy than the murderer deserves. The desire, the need to kill him had only been amplified but his attack on the other Spider-Man, but it is because of him, because of May, that he chooses the cure. He won’t let their deaths be in vain. Peter 2 had been right there in front of him, stopping him. Killing Goblin now would be like spitting in his face as he dies.
Osborne staggers, collapsing back on his haunches. The man is mumbling, words and expressions of shock and confusion and regret but Peter can’t listen to any of it because there’s an older version of himself from another universe dying on the ground in front of him.
“ - you?” Peter 2 is looking up at Peter 3 who is already there, faster than Peter, at the older man’s side.
“Nice catch,” Peter 3 nods to him and there is so so much behind that.
Good job. You did the right thing. Proud of you. Thank you for not killing him even though I know you wanted to and I know it hurts right now but you did what Spider-Man does. You saved him.
“Nice throw,” is all Peter can say back.
Thank you for being here. Thank you both for not letting me become something else. I’ve missed being on a team. I love you guys too.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I -
“I’m sorry,” he finally croaks it out, rough and raw.
The man smiles and it’s soft and there is so much understanding and empathy and pain in his eyes. Peter 3 is already webbing up the wound, putting pressure over the makeshift bandaging with his hands.
“This isn’t your fault, Peter,” he breathes. “Not me. Not your aunt. Not Ben for me,” he turns to Peter 2, “not Gwen.” He coughs and looks back at the youngest among them. “You make choices. And you have to live with those choices. And some of them, are mistakes. But - you can’t change what happened. The only thing you can change, is you.”
A wet cough shook him then, his chest seizing. Osborn crawls to the man’s side then, mumbling apologies and one of them mentions someone named Harry but Peter is deaf to it.
But then the sky is purple and cracking.
“Is that - is that really happening?” The dying Spider-Man blinks up at it all. “Or am I already dead?
He’s a Spider-Man. A Peter Parker. Of course he is making a joke when he’s - when he’s -
“No,” the other one responds, staring up in shock, “that is really happening.”
Peter finds the sorcerer at the top of the torch, trembling from the strain of holding - whatever is happening - at bay. More and more silhouettes appear through the cracks and Peter thinks he understands.
“I - I gotta go,” his voice is so quiet and strained but of course the others hear him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter 3 swallows, “I got it.”
Peter glances back at the eldest Spider-Man. There’s nothing more to say. The man gives one short nod at the boy.
It’s okay. I understand. It’s our job. You can do this. It’s okay.
It’s okay.
It’s not but they’re running out of time and Peter sends a web and gets to the top of the torch before he can think about it for too long.
“What’s happening?”
“They’re starting to come through,” Dr. Strange explains, strained, “and I can’t stop them!”
“There’s gotta be something we can do! Can’t you just cast the spell again? But the original way, before I screwed it up.”
“We’re too late for that,” Strange shakes his head. “They’re here! They’re here because of you.”
It takes Peter a beat and then -
“What if everyone forgot who I was?”
“What?!”
“They’re coming here because of me, right?” Peter pants. “So cast a new spell, but this time make everyone forget who Peter Parker is. Make everyone forget,” he swallows, “me.”
Dr. Strange pauses.
“No.”
“But it would work, right?” Peter argues.
“Yeah, it would work,” Strange relents, reluctant, “but you got to understand that would mean that everyone who knows and loves you, we,” his voice catches, “we’d have no memory of you. It would be as though you never existed.”
“I know,” Peter schools his features, resolved. “Do it.”
It takes a second of hesitation but then Dr. Strange nods, the heartbreak painted openly on his face.
Peter takes it in, realizes what is about to happen, and then - feels… something . He looks down. The eldest Spider-Man is motionless on the ground, the other bent forward and head bowed, hand splayed against Peter 2’s forehead. They’re so far down below, Peter can hardly make it out but he knows.
Spider-Man is dead.
He doesn’t hesitate with this decision.
“Wait,” Peter lifts a hand toward the doctor, “before the spell finishes, can you send me somewhere?”
Dr. Strange narrows his eyes in confusion.
“To his universe, the other Peter’s,” he gestures down to the other Spider-Men.
“What?”
“This universe, it has the Avengers, you, everyone else. His doesn’t. It’s just him - was - just him. And now, he’s gone. Because of me. I can go there. Be their Spider-Man. This world isn’t even going to know who I am anymore.”
“I can’t -“
“Please, Dr. St -“
“I can’t,” Strange interrupts, “because the spell requires all my focus. But he can,” the man glances down toward where his friends are straining to see them.
Peter nods, and then again, convincing himself.
“It has to be now, before the cracks all disappear,” Strange explains, “while there is still a sort of, gateway, into the other universes. I don’t even know if it’ll work or if it would ever be able to be done again.” He pauses, softening. “If you do this, you might not be able to ever come back.”
Peter stares down at his friends, his city.
“I know.” Peter steals himself. “But it’s my responsibility.”
Dr. Strange’s smile reminds Peter of the eldest Spider-Man’s. Sad and proud.
“Your aunt,” Stephen begins, softly, “Tony, everyone. Would be proud of you,” he pauses and grins again, “Spider-Man.”
They share a silent look and it suddenly strikes Peter how similar the doctor is to his old mentor.
“You better go and say your goodbyes.” Strange breaks the moment as tenderly as he can. “You don’t have long.”
And so the two say their own words of parting and Dr. Strange tells him to call him Stephen and it’s something, more than something, to have earned back the sorcerer’s trust, despite everything that has and is about to happen.
He lands next to the pair of Peters, Peter 3 rising to meet him next to the body of their fallen Parker. Peter glances back and forth between them.
“He’s gone,” there are fresh tears in his eyes and the man doesn’t have to say it for Peter to know, to have already known, but what can either of them say really?
“I, uh, I think - this is it. You’re about to go home.” Peter stares down at the ground, definitely not avoiding the body lying next to where his gaze is pointed. “I - I don’t - I didn’t mean - I didn’t want -”
“Hey,” the other Peter places a soft hand on his shoulder, but then squeezes. “I know. He knew too. Okay?”
Peter doesn’t look him in the eye but nods, choking off the tears that are clogging his dry throat.
“Um, look, I, uh - thank you. I just want to - I want you - I wanted to tell you both that - I really don’t know how to say this -“
“Peter -”
“I want you to know that I’m -”
“You know.” The other Peter smiles, squeezing again. “It’s what we do.”
“Yeah,” Peter’s returned smile is warm, but weak.
“You’re about to do something, aren’t you?” The other Peter cocks his head to the side, squinting.
“Yeah,” Peter bobs his head after a long moment, “but it’s okay. It’s what we do.”
Peter goes to leave him there, but then quickly turns back around, hugging him and thanking him. Finally, he pulls back before he’s overwhelmed with the grief.
“I guess - I’ll see you.”
“Same,” he nods.
They share a last, lingering smile before Peter turns, hurrying off to find his friends.
To say goodbye.
Peter swings over to MJ and Ned, MJ releasing a relieved and long sigh.
“You’re okay!”
The trio embrace, Peter pulling away first, just looking at them, taking them in.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’re okay,” MJ replies.
Peter finds the cut on her forehead.
“Oh my God, you’re bleeding.”
He holds her face in his hands, inspecting the cut and trying not to think about how this might be the last time he ever holds her like this.
“No, I’m fine,” MJ assures him. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine. I promise.”
“Okay, okay,” Peter relents.
“Um,” MJ glances around them, “we should go, right?”
Peter looks between the two most important people left in his life as thunder echoes above. He should explain what is about to happen, warn them that they’ll forget. Maybe he could, would - if he was going to be here to find them again. Remind them.
“I have to go,” he says instead. “Ned, I need - I need you to make a portal to a different world. His world.”
The friends follow Peter’s gaze toward the fallen hero.
“What?” Ned fumbles the words. “I don’t - how -“
“He said you could,” Peter takes the boy’s shoulders, “Dr. Strange said you could do it.”
“He did?” And Ned is suddenly wide-eyed and beaming until realization settles in and his face just, drops.
“Why?” MJ shakes her head.
And Peter explains, how he had explained it to himself, to Dr. Strange.
“I - I’ll come with you,” MJ says after he’s finished without skipping a beat.
“No,” Peter responds, raspy, “your family, friends, college - your life is here.”
“But you won’t be.”
“We can both go,” Ned nods. “Trip to another universe? Sounds awesome.”
“You can’t,” Peter is firm, “neither of you.”
The pair look like they are about to argue further but something about their friend’s face gives them pause.
“How will you get back?” Ned suddenly asks, panicked. “I can get you there, sure, maybe, possibly, if it works. But how will you come back?”
“I’ll figure it out,” Peter lies.
“That’s not good enough,” MJ grabs his hand.
“You can come get me,” the words tumble out before Peter has thought through the flimsy response. “You - or Dr. Strange or Wong - someone here can come get me. I just need some time, to tell his family what happened. To help fix things. Make sure his city, his world, is safe.”
“I’ll give you until winter break ends,” it’s Ned’s turn to be firm. “You’re graduating with us, dude. And hey, with my new powers, I can just, you know, portal you, or us ,” he says with a hint of hope, “to that world anytime you want to check on it or say hi to anyone you meet while you’re there - not that you’ll, like, make new friends, definitely don’t make new friends. I can’t handle the competition.”
“Dude,” Peter slaps Ned’s arm, “there’s no competition with you.”
“What if this doesn’t work?” MJ cuts in and there is panic lacing her voice. “What if - what if Ned coming to get you or whatever doesn’t work? What if you’re stuck there? I don’t want you to do this. I don’t - I don’t want -”
“I know, MJ.” Peter interlocks their fingers, “I know.” He looks to both of them. “I have to do this.”
Peter turns to Ned and the pair execute their secret handshake and even if Ned doesn’t know it, the boy is somber like a part of him senses that this is the last time they will do it. Before he can dwell on it, Peter yanks Ned into a hug.
“I’ll come find you,” Ned reassures Peter, or maybe himself.
“I know you will.”
They pull apart and Peter moves toward MJ.
“You better come back,” she threatens weakly. “If you don’t, I’m just gonna figure out how to get there myself.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Peter smiles.
“I really hate magic,” she pouts.
Peter laughs, a small, knowing grin.
“Yeah, me too.”
She looks at him then, really looks at him and Peter doesn’t know what to make of it, doesn’t know what to say -
“I love you.”
It’s a gut punch and an embrace at the same time, healing and hurtful and it suddenly makes all of this so much harder and easier at the same time.
“I love -”
“Just wait,” MJ interrupts. “Wait and tell me when you see me again.”
Peter has to hide it. Has to stop it from spilling out. The agony. The truth.
He won’t see her again.
“Sure.”
The sky rumbles as the new spell starts to take effect. He looks from the sky to where the two other Peter Parker’s have disappeared to the girl he once thought hated him and pulls MJ into a kiss. When they part, what feels like seconds and eternities all at once later, he looks to Ned.
“Now,” he nods. “Strange says it has to be before the cracks close.”
Ned shakes his arms loose, mumbling some sort of affirmations to himself. It takes a few tries, for Ned to pause and clench his fists and wiggle his fingers and start over, but then the sparks fly and the portal opens and it could be anywhere in their own universe or anywhere else’s on the other side but Peter trusts Ned with everything in him. The three share a long look as Peter steps back toward the opening. He glances up at the torch where Dr. Strange, his new spell nearly complete, nods his own goodbye. Peter looks back at MJ. The spell she doesn’t even know is coming is about to hit her, but she manages to mouth one last “I love you”. He shoots a web through the portal and swings through it before the light of the completed spell washes over them.
And just like that, the memory, and the man, is gone.