“Peter Parker is Spiderman?”
“Is this real?”
“Whoa, I know that kid!”
Shouting surrounded Peter, hurting his sensitive ears even past the filter in his new suit. Shouts of confusion, anger, threats, fear.
MJ, who had just been seen swinging through the streets with Spiderman, was bearing a lot of the interrogating questions herself. Peter looked down just in time to see her elbow someone in the nose who was getting too close, pushing them away and turning up to where Peter now stood fully upright on the pole.
“Go, Spiderman! Get out of here!”
Her voice managed to snap Peter out of his panic a bit, and he was about to take her advice and swing away to safety when he realized the extent of what was happening on the ground. No way was he leaving MJ alone to deal with this mob herself.
Flipping off the pole, Peter threw out a web, grabbing MJ by the waist and pulling her with him as he swung away; the crowd’s shouts faded into the distance physically, but Peter could still hear their angered confusion in his mind. He couldn’t avoid them forever.
MJ’s nails dug into his shoulders, her head buried in his chest as the wind whipped her hair around. Peter felt terrible; he’d just seen how much MJ hated swinging, and was now dragging her back into it. As soon as they were far enough away, he touched down carefully onto the ground, MJ stumbling beside him.
She grabbed her head, groaning. “Please, please tell me we won’t have to do that again.”
“I’m sorry,” he said shakily, pulling off his mask. “I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t want them to close in on you. Sorry. I--this--”
“I know.” She took his hands. “It’s okay. None of us expected that to happen. I’m not far from my apartment building, I can handle this.”
“MJ, you shouldn’t--”
“I can handle this, Peter,” her eyes hardened. “I don’t need you to chaperone me, I’m not a damsel in distress. Get somewhere safe, find help. I can get home fine.”
Peter could see that arguing would do nothing, she was set in stone. So he sighed, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek quickly. “Okay. Just promise you’ll text me when you’re safe. Please, MJ.”
“I promise. Now go, Peter.”
He nodded, pulling his mask back on and running. As long as he could, he avoided swinging, hopefully prolonging anyone seeing him.
The alley he’d hidden his backpack in wasn’t far, but at the same time was far enough. Every stray noise, every dog bark or faraway engine made him flinch, despite Karen’s reassurances.
“Where should I go, Karen? The tower? The compound?”
“I’m sorry, Peter,” His AI apologized. “But crowds have already formed around both buildings, including helicopters; you won’t be able to swing in. However, Mr. Stark has sent me the address to a safe house he’s already brought your aunt to. Would you like me to send for--”
“Karen, mute!” Peter hissed at the sound of voices around the corner, pressing himself against the wall.
The wall. Duh.
Silently, Peter crawled up the wall. It was a bit awkward; he was used to climbing front-ways, his face to the wall, but turning his back to the street didn’t feel all that smart this time. His spidersense was tingling as the voices got louder, and Peter continued to edge away from them.
There were four of them. None were outwardly armed, but sometimes anger and some fists did pretty well all on their own. And besides, at the very least they all had cell phones that could broadcast Peter’s location or call the police--right now, the devices were weapon enough for Peter.
Trying to make even his breathing hush, Peter climbed diagonally, going both higher and farther away at the same time. He couldn’t tell if the men had seen him yet, a fact that surprised him quite a bit--they were chasing after Spiderman and didn’t think to look up.
Not that Peter was complaining, of course.
He paused at the edge of the building’s side, stuck. He couldn’t climb around the side and into the street’s view, but here he ran the chance of being seen.
Only one way left to go, and that was up.
And that plan was going fine, until Peter reached a window.
He knew he wasn’t in a fantastic area of town, but that didn’t mean he’d been prepared for his foot to catch on a beer bottle sitting on a windowsill, the offending bottle tumbling and crashing to the ground before Peter could catch it.
All four of the guys’ heads whipped up to right where Peter crouched, frozen like some stupid deer in headlights until his spidersense screamed at him to move, and he dodged at the same second one of the men grabbed a gun from his jacket and squeezed the trigger.
Okay, so not totally unarmed.
Forgetting about subtlety, Peter gave up on climbing, flinging out a web to throw himself to the top of the building. Before he could follow through, though, another shot rang out, the bang ringing out almost as loud as his heartbeat.
He tried to dodge it again, but between his nerves and the awkwardness of starting the swing, he wasn’t quite fast enough. Peter let out a curse strong enough to make Cap have a heart attack at the searing pain that suddenly ripped through his side. It stung electrically, at least telling Peter that this was a surface wound.
Instinctively, Peter grabbed at his side in an effort to quell the pain, just as another guy pulled out an identical gun and shot again. This one hit him, too, deeper than the first one, the pain making his hand slip from the web.
Peter flipped in midair, trying to land on his feet or in a roll, only to crash into something way closer than the ground had been, glass and metal crunching under him.
“Oww,” he groaned, clutching his already-wounded sides and squeezing his eyes shut. This was so not his day.
As the ringing in his ear dimmed, he registered the car door opening--because of course he’d fallen on top of a car that had someone inside of it. Ah man, they’d probably try to sue him now.
“Spiderman?”
Peter’d been about to launch into a spiel about how sorry he was for landing on the person’s car and that he really didn’t have the money to pay for the damages right now but he’d get it as soon as possible, when it dawned on him. He knew that voice.
And it was the absolute last voice he’d expected to hear right now.
“Oh my--Peter is that really you?”
Peter’s eyes were still closed, but he could hear Liz Allen’s footsteps come closer, and his spidersense instinctively warned him when she was too close.
He flinched away from her touch, rolling off the car hood and hissing at the glass poking through his suit, not to mention the gunshot wounds. Blinking away the pain, he took a second to really look in front of him.
Liz’s hand was still out in front of her, but away from the instinctive fear Peter could register that she probably hadn’t been about to hurt him. He’d been lying bloody on her car, she’d most likely just been going to help him get off and back on his feet. Her eyes were filled with equal parts hurt and confusion, staring at Peter as if she’d never met him.
“Peter?” She said, softer, lowering her hand. “That is you, isn’t it?” He couldn’t decide if her voice was dreading, resigned or just plain sad.
Could he really deny it at this point? Her hearing his voice would probably just seal the deal anyway.
“Liz, I’m--”
“There he is!”
Both of their heads whipped back to the alley Peter had just fallen out of, Peter’s sides flaring in pain at the voices.
Not thinking, he grabbed Liz’s shoulders. “Please help me--please. I’ll tell you anything, answer any questions, just please get me out of here.”
Liz blinked, hesitating only a second before nodding. “Get in.”
Peter didn’t waste a second in ripping open the passenger door and throwing himself inside, pulling his mask off once he was in; Liz and everyone else already knew, so there wasn’t much of a point in trying to hide it now, and he could use the fresh air.
The tires screeched slightly as Liz tailed it out of the parking space, speeding onto the road and, though she was already driving recklessly, constantly glancing over at Peter’s unmasked face.
This had been a bad idea. Peter should have just swung away; this car was pretty dang noticeable at this point, what with its nearly-destroyed front window and hood. Besides, now he was getting blood all over the seats.
He winced, pulling a piece of glass out of his suit. “I’m really sorry, but do you have like, a towel in here or something?”
She glanced at him, her eyes widening in realization and cursing. “Peter! You’re bleeding! Those guys--you--did they shoot you?”
“I’ll be fine,” Peter breathed, fingering his side and wincing. “I’ll heal. Sorry about the mess. Is that a no on the towels?”
It must have been, because all Liz did was curse again. “Oh, geez, I’m so not equipped to handle this. Look, yes I have a lot of questions, but you need medical help. Like, right now. Is there somewhere you can go? What about the Avengers?”
“Not them,” Peter shook his head. “Karen said they’re dealing with crowds at the compound and tower.”
“Karen?”
“She’s . . . I’ll explain later. But she was going to send me an address Mr. Stark had of a safehouse I could hide out in while he smooths this over. Here, let me just--” He pulled the mask back on, instructing Karen to give him the address.
“Mr. Stark has had to disable communications to your suit,” Karen informed him regretfully. “He worries the government could catch the signal, and doesn’t want you to be caught. He’ll be waiting for you outside the safehouse when you get there, and he insists you keep safe.”
Peter’s eyes pricked, and he furiously blinked back any potential tears. “Thanks, Karen,” He whispered.
He committed the address to memory, giving it to Liz and pulling the mask off again.
She sighed. “That’s over an hour away.”
Peter’s chest tightened. It’d be wrong to ask her to go so out of her way, especially now with law enforcement looking for him. He didn’t want her tangled up in this.
“You don’t have to take me. I can get there myself, just promise me you won’t turn me into the police or tell them where I’m going. I know what the news said, but I didn’t try to kill all those people, Liz, I swear!”
Liz stared at him. “Well, duh. You’re Peter Parker. The guy I watched shove Flash into a wall because he’d been about to step on a beetle that you then proceeded to wrap in a paper towel and put on the windowsill. You’re not capable of hurting innocent people.”
But he nearly had. By giving Beck E.D.I.T.H, Peter had nearly hurt millions of innocent people. Not like he could tell Liz that--he wanted her to not turn him in to the police.
“Thanks,” he muttered, leaning back on the seat and pressing a hand to the worst of the gun wounds. It still hurt, but he could feel it knitting back together under his touch, his healing factor sure to have it fixed soon enough.
There were a lot of people Peter hated the thought of finding out he was Spiderman. May had been one of them, though she’d handled it better than he’d imagined. The Rogue Avengers, Flash--no, scratch that, Peter actually very much wanted to see Flash’s face right now--not to mention the people he fought as Spiderman. Realizing that the Vulture knew who he was had been one of the scariest moments of his life, his mind immediately envisioning every way Toomes could follow through with his threat to kill everyone Peter loved.
But also high on that list was Liz Allen, Toomes’ daughter. Peter’s ex-crush and Homecoming date.
Peter had put her father in jail. Had uprooted her life, took her away from Decathlon and all her friends. Probably hurt and humiliated her at Homecoming, standing her up in front of her friends when she’d been generous enough to agree to go to the dance with him in the first place, some nerdy, unpopular kid who always stuttered around her.
“So,” She brought him out of his miserable musings. “I guess you really did ‘know’ Spiderman all this time,” she smiled a bit. “Why didn’t you show it off at the party? Flash would have lost his mind.”
“Um. I kinda--got a little sidetracked. Spiderman business.”
Her smile disappeared. “It had to do with my dad, didn’t it?”
Peter’s silence was all the confirmation he had to give.
“I’m so sorry--” they said at the same time, both cutting off when they realized they’d spoken in unison, each staring in confusion at the other.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Peter said right away. “I mean, I totally get it if you’re mad about the whole thing, and at me--I mean, you probably blame Spiderman--me--for your dad going away, and you moving, and everything that--”
“Are you kidding?” Liz gaped, appalled at what she was hearing. “Peter, my dad tried to kill you. I mean, Homecoming makes total sense now--how weird you were acting around my dad, how he wanted to talk to you before we left, you leaving the dance before we even went inside. Peter, do you actually think I’m mad at you for all that?”
He shrugged. Because yeah, he had.
“Sure, I was a little bitter after you stood me up, but now--I mean, it’s not like you didn’t have a good reason, or like you were leaving to go screw one of the cheerleaders. Peter, you left to go fight someone you knew I cared about to keep him from getting his hands on dangerous weapons. Of course I’m not mad about that.”
She paused, and Peter could hear the change in her breathing as it grew heavier, more shuddering.
“I saw the pictures of that fight. It was . . .” She sniffed, and Peter glanced over in surprise to see a tear drip down onto her nose. “You could have died, he tried to kill you. If you’d . . . I never would have been able to live with that. There’s even rumors that that wasn’t the only time Spiderman and the Vulture fought . . .”
Again, Peter’s silence only confirmed her fears. He couldn’t meet her eyes as she exhaled shudderingly. Peter hadn’t expected her sadness and guilt to hurt more than if she’d just been mad at him and yelled.
“It wasn’t the only fight, was it? When you disappeared at Decathlon . . . when you left the party . . . that was all you fighting, wasn’t it?”
“I’m fine, Liz,” He whispered, even as his mind hissed liar. As if he didn’t have constant nightmares of being trapped under buildings, of falling, of drowning, of being locked up or burning to death. Of Toomes telling the world who he was and killing Peter’s family.
Peter had never fully been able to comprehend why Toomes hadn’t already revealed his identity before then, but maybe now that Beck had already done it Toomes would just say what the heck, and go through with hurting everyone Peter cared about. Even if he was in prison, maybe it wouldn’t matter.
“Peter? Peter!”
He snapped back to attention, blinking rapidly at her. He hadn’t meant to zone out so hard.
She glared at him. “Yeah, you’re just perfectly peachy. You don’t have to try to protect me from whatever my dad did to you.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything that happened, either. It won’t help, trust me. I have someone that I talk to about these things, and it won’t help you to know it all.”
Liz sighed. “Fine. Then tell me about this new guy, the Mysterio I kept seeing on the news who was in Europe. What was Spiderman doing over there?”
“Decathlon trip. It’s . . . complicated.”
Liz made a show of looking at the GPS. “Well, we’ve got like forty-five minutes before we’re at your safehouse. So spill.”
Eventually, he did. There wasn’t much of a point in keeping it from her--better she knew the truth than just Beck’s tainted version. He didn’t look at her once the whole time, between telling of meeting Quentin Beck and hearing his woven lies of elementals and the multiverse, Nick Fury hijacking his trip, fighting the fire elemental and discovering the truth, making his new suit after Beck’s first attack, and finishing it all in London, the stage for Mysterio’s final illusion as he showed Spiderman off as a murderer to the world.
At its end, Liz nudged him--careful of his wounds--a small smile playing on her lips. “I’d always kinda thought you and MJ would be cute together.”
Peter blushed. “I didn’t even tell you that we got together.”
“No, but the story made it kind of obvious.” Her voice lowered. “But seriously, Peter, that’s awful. Is Tony Stark going to be able to fix it?”
“I hope so. I trust him with my life; if anyone can fix this, it’ll be him.”
She nodded. “Speaking of Tony Stark . . .”
At the lilt in her voice, Peter looked back up, eyes widening with hope at the sight of his mentor. Indeed, Tony Stark himself was running up to the car, none of his public-media cool and arrogance on his face.
Peter immediately pushed out of the car, launching himself into Tony’s arms--only to hiss and pull back in pain at the man’s embrace.
“Pete?” Tony released him, keeping his hands lightly on Peter’s shoulders. “What happened? Oh, kid, you’re bleeding; don’t worry about a thing, I’ve got all the medical supplies we’ll need inside.” He leaned close. “Who’s in the car?”
“She’s a friend, Mr. Stark, don’t worry. She’s--she was actually supposed to be my homecoming date. Um. Her dad was actually the Vulture.”
His eyes narrowed. “She good?”
“Ease down, Mr. Stark, she’s fine. She brought me here.”
Liz climbed out of the car, doing a remarkably good job of not freaking out in front of Tony Stark, who Peter knew for a fact she was as obsessed with as he’d been.
“My name is Liz Allen, Mr. Stark. It’s nice to meet you. I know the truth of what happened with Peter, and I trust him, I promise. I won’t tell anyone where he is.”
Tony raised an eyebrow to Peter, asking for approval, and Peter nodded. “She’s telling the truth, Mr. Stark.”
“Good. Then it’s nice to meet you, too.” He glanced at her car. “You can’t ride back in that--besides how damaged it is, someone might recognize it. Take the car I brought here.”
She blinked, looking shocked at the offer, especially seeing as the car was an expensive sports model. But Peter just gave him a look that told her not to argue; he’d tried to deny Mr. Stark’s expensive gifts enough to know that there wasn’t much wiggle room to them.
“Um. Okay. Thank you, Mr. Stark.”
“Think of it as a thank you, for taking care of my kid. Don’t worry about this car, I’ll make sure it’s paid off and taken care of.”
Still shell-shocked, she nodded again. “Thank you. Good luck, both of you. You’ll figure this out.”
Peter waved goodbye to her and Tony put a careful arm around his shoulders. “She’s right. We will figure this out, you know.”
And Peter did. He was glad he’d been able to handle Liz by himself, but he was glad that he had Tony with him to fix this mess.