Epilogue
This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.
Daredevil wasn’t even supposed to be out tonight. Matt was recovering from a concussion. It was a slow night in Queens. Neither of them should have been out tonight.
Peter sobbed as he held a bloody shirt against Matt’s stomach. Blood gushed from between his fingers and mixed with the rain soaking them both. Peter let out another broken sob. He could hear the muted clink of blades around them, but he could only look at Matt, face pale and skin cold. They were going to die, and Peter couldn’t do anything about it.
* * * * *
Five hours earlier
“You are sucking so hard tonight,” Ned commented as Kirby got KO’d by Samus for the third time in two minutes. Peter slid the Switch controllers over his webslingers and off his wrists.
“Yeah, I’m just not into it tonight I guess,” he said, looking toward Ned’s window before he could help himself.
“I thought you weren’t going out,” said Ned. “It’s so gross outside that not even the criminals are out.” Peter stood up from the floor, stretched and made his way over to the window. Ned was right; it was rainy and colder than usual for October. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass.
“The heart wants what it wants,” Peter sang under his breath. Ned threw a pillow at him at the same time as a tinny voice came through his phone.
“Or else it does not care.”
“Pretty sure that’s not Selena Gomez,” said Ned.
“Pretty sure she wasn’t taking about Spider-Manning anymore than Emily Dickinson either.” Peter could almost hear MJ rolling her eyes. She was already in a mood, stuck at home watching her sister on a Friday. “But Ned’s right. The weather sucks and you said Daredevil won’t be out anyway.”
“And you shouldn’t be out alone if there are ninjas,” Ned added. Peter cringed.
“Ninjas?” MJ questioned. Her voice had an edge to it that Peter didn’t appreciate. Peter darted across the room and cut his phone off speaker.
“Give me thirty seconds to explain!” Peter burst out before MJ could say anything. He stuck his tongue out at Ned for ratting him out. Ned did not look sorry. “It’s nothing, Red is taking care of it. He’s keeping me out of it, you know Wade would murder him if he let me do anything fun. I swear, I’m not being an idiot.” MJ exhaled, and Peter could hear her disapproval. “Michellllllle,” he whined.
“No ninjas?” Worry crept into her usually even tone.
“I promise, baby,” Peter said, flipping off Ned at the same time that he rolled his eyes. A few more “I know, I know” and Peter hung up the phone. “You and Betty call each other the dumbest shit I have ever had the displeasure of experiencing.”
“Peter,” Ned said, grabbing him by the elbows for emphasis. “That is all true, but I would like to posit that it’s not the “baby” thing and is more that she lets you say it and you still have balls.” Peter dodged out of the way as Ned attempted to poke him in the stomach.
“It’s probably the abs.”
“You can fuck off. My personality is amazing.”
“Idiot vigilante is a personality type?” Ned teased. Peter frowned and turned away from Ned. He laid down on the bed and stared at the popcorn ceiling. Crawling across that texture was unpleasant. He was glad he was down here instead. The mattress shifted as Ned sat down next to him, laying two fingers softly on his pulse point. Peter didn’t pull away, and Ned wrapped his hand around his wrist.
“What just happened?” he asked. What did happen? Peter felt ill, or guilty, deep down. It wasn’t easy to describe.
“I don’t know,” Peter said. “You hurt my feelings.” He rolled onto his side and curled around Ned. He was so warm. “Why am I always so cold?” Peter mumbled into Ned’s back.
“Spider DNA? PTSD? You’re going to go out in spandex in the rain and get into trouble with Daredevil even though it’s fucking cold?”
“Not spandex,” Peter mumbled, still leeching body heat off Ned.
“That’s your takeaway from all that?” Ned shook his head disapprovingly but wrapped an arm around Peter and rubbed his back anyway. There was a lot of that lately, the lingering disapproval with physical comfort. Peter tried not to dwell on it. All the touching grounded him. The disapproval was, well, not the best feeling in the world but he knew everyone was thinking it even without the sighs and concerned glances. Peter dragged himself away from Ned and stretched, his spine cracking.
“I’m going out,” he said, ignoring the still-disapproving look from Ned. “Minimal Spider-Man-ing, promise.” He offered Ned a pinky and pouted for extra sympathy. Ned rolled his eyes and accepted his pinky swear.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he said as Peter climbed out the window. Peter grinned back at Ned and jumped.
And immediately webbed to Hell’s Kitchen. He was just going to check on Matt; that wasn’t exactly against the pinky promise, right?
Peter landed quietly on Matt’s roof and padded over to the Daredevil roof access. He was about to open the door when a hand closed on his shoulder.
“Fucking hell!” he swore, quickly pinning his assailant. He blinked down at the black mask under him. “Oh Matt! I’m, oh my god I’m so sorry!” He jumped up and offered Matt a hand. He accepted and stood up, rubbing the back of his head.
“Oh my god, your head!” Peter started to panic. “You aren’t even supposed to be - why are you out here? You have a CONCUSSION, Matt!”
“If you use my name in the mask again, I’m going to regret what I do next,” Matt said dryly. Peter slapped his hands over his mouth. Well, his mask.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He felt like crying. Matt’s identity had legal implications that Peter couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Daredevil’s identity getting out could send Foggy to prison.
“Are you having a panic attack?” Matt touched his wrist lightly. Peter shook his head, and Matt tilted his head slightly, considering him. He squeezed Peter’s wrist before he let go.
“It’s fine,” he said, his tone final. Peter nodded. “We have a ninja problem,” Matt continued.
“But your head?” Peter questioned.
“It’s also fine,” Matt said. And that tone was really final. Peter hesitated, wanting to argue, and Matt tensed. Peter suppressed his anxiety about Matt giving himself brain damage. They had five more seconds of stare down for good measure.
“Alright, lets go.”
As they jumped from rooftop to fire escape to
alleyway to rooftop, Matt explained that The Hand was back in Hell’s Kitchen and honestly, Peter could not follow all of the strands that ran through that mess of a situation, but ninjas = bad is all he really needed to take away from the lengthy mythology Matt was explaining.
They were in a particularly grimy alleyway when Matt suddenly halted and looked up.
“No...” Matt whispered under his breath. That and a belated buzz from his spidey sense was the only warning Peter got before they were surrounded by figures dressed in black.
“Matthew,” said a man who stepped out from the group. “You know what we want.”
“Let the kid go,” Matt said quickly. “Do whatever you want with me.” The man chuckled darkly.
“No.” The spidey sense buzzed as blades from either side of Peter sliced at his web shooters, somehow managing to jam them. Peter looked at Matt in panic, but he was focused on the man in front of him. Suddenly, Matt darted forward and all hell broke loose. They - ninjas, Peter’s panicked brain helpfully supplied - were so fast and quiet that Peter had trouble fighting them in the shadows between buildings.
Peter connected with a body and heard ribs snap and a groan as they hit the brick building. Without his web shooters and outmatched in finesse, Peter couldn’t risk holding his strength back too much, but he still felt a twinge of guilt. It was quickly apparent that he was being deliberately separated from Matt. Peter tried to focus his senses, but the rain and fighting from every direction and the loud clang of blades disoriented him. Eventually, he was knocked to the ground. The scent of blood was overwhelming. He crawled toward the direction he sense Matt last and bumped into a dark mass on the ground. Matt was unconscious and cold, and Peter tried frantically to staunch the blood. He was only vaguely aware that they weren’t being attacked until he heard a voice boom through the rain.
“Everyone is ALWAYS surprised that ninjas are made of meat. I know, I know, I was expecting you to be tougher, too.”
A katana flew through the air and sliced through the head of ninja inches away from Peter. Blood showered him, and Peter felt his stomach lurch.
“This, here,” said Deadpool, gesturing to a knife in his leg, “Is my least favorite thing. It is not raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens.” The knife that was in Deadpool’s leg was now buried in the chest of the last standing ninja. She fell to the ground.
The alley was covered with bodies and blood mixing with the rain. Deadpool stood in the middle, katanas in hand, somehow wild-eyed even with the mask on. He looked over at Peter and Matt and immediately dropped his aggressive stance.
“Peter!” Wade ran over, his weapons dropped and forgotten. He replaced Peter’s hands that were pressing on Matt’s wounds with his own. “You need to call for help. Use your AI to call for help.”
Peter blinked. His suit’s eyes blinked.
“Peter, honey, you’re in shock but you need to snap out of it, just for a little,” Wade pleaded, one hand reaching out for Peter. He jumped back as if burned. Deadpool had massacred everyone in the alley. Peter was kneeling in their blood.
“You killed everyone,” he whispered. Hurt flashed across Wade’s face before he quickly schooled his expression, but his eyes were bright. Peter didn’t even know when he’d take off the mask.
A familiar buzzing sound made Peter’s heart skip a beat. He didn’t forget Tony was dead, but it rubbed against the grief that always ached in his chest as the blue armored suit landed heavily on the pavement.
Pepper spent exactly three seconds taking in the situation before she was cauterizing the wound in Matt’s stomach with a tool from somewhere inside the Rescue armor.
“Shit, Matt,” she swore. “FRIDAY, is the med bay ready?” Her voice was tinny through the suit. She flipped up the faceplate and looked directly at Wade. “I can only carry him. Can you get Peter to the Tower?”
“I, uh, am not sure if I am the best choice...” Peter stared unblinkingly at Wade, who chewed his lip nervously. Peter felt empty.
“You are the only choice,” Pepper said, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. Peter’s heart sped up with her agitation. His gaze bounced back and forth between Pepper and Wade.
“Yeah, okay, of course,” Wade said. Pepper nodded and gathered Matt up into her arms, and then he was alone with Wade in an alley full of dead bodies. Peter was still kneeling on the wet - blood-soaked - ground. Wade reached for him tentatively, and Peter let himself be pulled to his feet. He looked up at Wade and felt nothing. Somehow, they ended up in a sports car, Wade driving recklessly. Peter watched the world speed by through the tinted windows.
“You can take off the mask, hon,” Wade said softly. Peter did and sucked in a deep breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The panic of earlier rushed back and his chest tightened. His hands scrabbled helplessly at his chest, his suit suddenly too constricting and literally dripping with bad memories.
“Breathe, baby boy,” Wade soothed. Peter closed his eyes, breathed, concentrated on Wade’s voice and tried to ignore the contradiction of his sleeping spidey sense with the vivid picture of Deadpool slaughtering his adversaries. “They would’ve killed you both,” Wade said, as though he’d read Peter’s mind.
“I know,” Peter said, refusing to meet Wade’s eyes. He was being unfair. Evil ninjas. This is a world with evil ninjas and maybe not killing anyone should have wiggle room. Maybe the middle ground is Daredevil, but he wouldn’t kill them either, not on purpose anyway. Peter’s mind raced with intrusive questions that he tried to shove into a box to be dealt with later. Always later. His stomach ached and his skin crawled with anxiety. “I’m being unreasonable,” Peter said instead of letting everything out to Wade. “I just - I just need some time.”
“Take all the time you need, Petey.” Wade, somehow the adult in this (and many) situations, but Peter wasn’t naive. He hurt Wade’s feelings after he’d saved his life. Peter tucked himself into a little ball and hid his face in his knees. He felt like crying.
“Hon, we’re here,” Wade said, his voice hesitant like Peter would crack at the wrong tone. He probably would. Peter blinked as he took in his surroundings, the dimly lit parking garage under the Tower. It was mostly empty. Peter had only been in here a couple times with Tony. Deep breath. Don’t think about people dying. Don’t think about Matt dying. Wade’s hand gripped his upper arm. Don’t think about ninjas dying.
Peter isn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself in the brightly lit hallway of the med bay with a vague memory of Pepper telling him that Matt was in surgery but it looked like he would be okay. Foggy had rushed in at the end of the explanation but had disappeared since.
A few yards away, Pepper was texting with one hand and gesturing animatedly with the other to Wade, who looked miserable and considerably worse for wear under the fluorescent lights. Did Peter look that bad? He glanced down at the mask in his hand and noted that he too was wearing a suit that was cut to hell and covered in blood. Peter swayed on his feet a little and was steadied by a gentle hand on his back. He hadn’t even noticed footsteps behind him.
Peter looked up into concerned green eyes. Tony’s funeral had been a blur, but he’d been briefly introduced to Harley Keener. Why he was here at the Tower was a mystery that Peter’s brain skipped over. He glanced over at Pepper and Wade again, Pepper agitated and Wade looking absolutely gutted. Peter exhaled shakily, but it came out as a sob.
Harley took Peter’s breakdown in stride.
“Sweetheart, I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”