practical fears
“We gotta drop a house on me,” Tats Spidey announced to the group.
Everyone took the opportunity to chew on this for a second. Wade even went still with his new duck friend in his arms.
“How about not?” he offered.
“No, we gotta do it,” Tats Spidey said, hopping off the merry-go-round and taking the duck right out of his buddy’s arms. It didn’t even flap at him, if anything, it hunkered down like it had found the comfiest roost ever.
“No, we don’t,” Wade said.
“Spidey, they literally peeled you off the pavement three days ago,” Little Spidey pointed out.
“And I’m fine,” Tats Spidey huffed, petting the duck.
“You weren’t,” Wade pointed out.
“Psh. The past is the past.”
“How about we ask the real question here,” Peter interrupted magnanimously. “Why exactly do we have to drop a house on you?”
Because he is a crazy person, Peter. Don’t you see that?
“Because we’ve gotta make one of us a medium, so it might as well be me,” he said.
“You?” Peter and Gwen asked at the same time. Miles felt himself take a mental step back.
“Yeah, me. Listen. This guy we’re hearing, he’s in pain, he’s freaking out, he’s having like, the worst time of his life right now. We don’t know what else he’s got, but he’s got all that, so we’ll use it. If his upset can get across all these dimensions to other Spideys then surely someone else’s can, and that means that it can get back to him. We’ll use the fear as a medium, like a mutual way of communicating, so that we can talk to him and he can talk back to us.”
Like.
Okay.
It almost made sense when he said it like that. But still.
“Why you though?” Miles asked. Tats Spidey rounded on him with a blank face.
“Uh, because? It’s gotta be one of us Spideys and Bitsy sure as hell ain’t doin’ it, so?”
“I could do it,” Bitsy defended. “You just got out of the hospital. From a car. What makes you think you can take a house?”
Miles needed these people to understand that they were arguing over someone getting crushed by a building. He really, really, needed them to understand this.
“Well, all you’re afraid of is responsibility and disappointing people, bud, that’s not a fear we can work with practically here,” Tats Spidey told him.
Bitsy practically hissed and Miles instinctively wanted to join him. Good to know that all Mileses were fully programmed with crippling terror in the face of potential parental disappointment and social responsibility.
“But you’ve got practical fears,” Bitsy said sarcastically. Tats Spidey blinked at him, still absently petting the duck.
“Well, yeah. We all know I’ve got anxiety out the ears, and that’s not even getting started on the trauma. I got plenty of trauma, don’t I, Wade?”
Wade confiscated the duck.
“This is called ‘self harm,’ Peter,” he said seriously. “We aren’t doing that anymore, remember?”
“No.”
“Kid, sometimes I just wanna drown you, you know that?”
“Do it.”
Oh, okay. Everything made sense now. This guy was suicidal.
“I’m not suicidal. I’m just saying. I have a lot of untapped panic and a case of super mega claustrophobia, so I’m like your guy for self-induced panic.”
“And I’m saying that we’ve talked about this every week for the last year, Pete, so you’re not doing this,” Wade said. Tats Spidey pouted at him.
“Well then, what’s your solution, Mr. Answer Man?” he demanded.
Wade’s mask shifted as he raised an eyebrow under it.
“I AM DISTRESSED. I AM DISTRESSED.”
“He’s fine,” Wade promised them all.
They heard a loud, happy bubble of laughter.
“Red, won’t hurt him too bad,” Wade promised.
‘Red’ was Mr. Murdock and Mr. Murdock happened to be in New York for a trial involving Wilson Fisk, which he had allegedly been waiting ages for. He didn’t live in the city anymore in this verse, so he’d come all the way across country for this, even though he wasn’t even defending anyone at this trial; he was just going to sit in the audience and, according to the Mr. Nelson in this verse, ‘rattle in triumph’ at the sentencing.
This Mr. Nelson was just as entertaining as the one back home, but honestly, he kind of scared Miles when he first saw him. He looked really thin, and like, no Mr. Nelsons anywhere, as far as Miles was now concerned, were allowed to be anything other than healthily pudgy and soft. He also wore a beanie like he was cold, and while he was originally pretty tripped out to see double Mileses and another Peter, he’d gotten over it fast.
He seemed, if anything, almost disinterested in the whole affair now.
“Matty be nice,” he said without heat and without looking up from his phone next to Wade.
They were at an ages-old gym out in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. It was a boxing kind of place and it was insanely early. Wade had proven himself not only to be a duck-whisperer, but a Spidey tamer. When he decided that they were all gonna take a nap at his place until morning, they all took a nap.
No questions asked.
There were no other options.
As such, it was now what Tats Spidey grumpily referred to as ‘ass o’clock’ in the morning, and they’d all been joined by a guy wearing gym shorts with athletic tights under them in the gym’s hallway. He had with him a gym bag full of clothes that he and Mr. Murdock had forced Tats Spidey to put on before his torture began.
Everyone called this guy Dave even though the back of his staff shirt very clearly read ‘Ansel.’ Miles asked Bitsy why they called him Dave and he just shrugged and said that that had been decided before his time. Anyways, he explained, Dave wasn’t the team trainer or anything like that, he was the other Daredevil.
Dave was a much friendlier Daredevil.
“WADE I’M SORRY.”
Tats Spidey was maybe having the worst day of his life. But Wade said that this was better than any type of house-dropping.
“Think of it like a controlled environment,” he said.
Mr. Nelson finally brought his head up and then stared up at Wade with soulless eyes.
“It’s cute you think he’s controllable,” he said.
Wade looked back at him.
“He is when I sit on him,” he said.
“No, man. He’s just mad,” Mr. Nelson corrected.
Miles very much liked this Mr. Nelson. But not half as much as Gwen did. Gwen liked this Mr. Nelson enough to keep putting herself in front of him any time Mr. Murdock with his stunning shock of red hair and even more stunningly defined abs came anywhere near him.
Mr. Murdock didn’t seem to notice Gwen, which made sense. He was blind like the one back home and couldn’t see her furious expression and so could not fully appreciate the intensity of the vibes she was putting out around Mr. Nelson. Mr. Nelson was confused.
“Gwen? That’s my husband,” he told her after the second time Mr. Murdock came out to get other equipment from Dave and had to kind of stagger his way around Gwen to get his phone from Mr. Nelson.
Gwen went tight and guilty.
“You’re the DA in my world,” she eventually admitted, “And like, the last thing standing between that guy and control over the city.”
Mr. Nelson blinked at her and then bent double, busting a gut at the idea of Mr. Murdock being a crime lord. He needed to hold onto Wade’s arm to keep himself upright and then started calling Mr. Murdock a precious ninja kingpin when he came back out, to his enormous confusion.
“Come lie to me, my super villain,” he cooed at Mr. Murdock when he re-emerged from the room for the third time since Tats Spidey’s wailing had started up.
He was obviously conflicted here and it was disgustingly adorable. This Mr. Murdock would definitely do damn near anything for Mr. Nelson’s affection, but he also had a fun new toy suffering in the room behind him doing god knew what. He kinda jerked between the two options a bit before making a sad, distressed sound.
This made Mr. Nelson laugh even harder and made Gwen even more embarrassed.
“Fogs—what?” Mr. Murdock pleaded.
Mr. Nelson waved him off, struggling to catch his breath. Mr. Murdock turned his confusion to Wade who briefly summarized the hilarity of it all.
“I could be a kingpin,” Mr. Murdock sniffed, now offended at the general lack of faith in his deviousness.
“Red, you can’t lie to save your life; I hate to break it to you, bud, but that is step one to becoming a crime lord,” Wade pointed out.
Mr. Murdock lifted his chin up in defiance.
“I’ll practice,” he said.
“WADE, I’M IN DISTRESS. WHAT DID YOU DO?”
“Again.”
“Nooooooo.”
“Again.”
“Nooooo. No more.”
A thud. Followed by another. Then a scuffle and a shout of pain.
“Get up.”
“Someone just drop a fucking house on me, this is hell. This is hell.”
“Get up.”
“WADE.”
“I’m not sure this is working,” Peter said delicately after the second hour of poor Tats Spidey getting his ass handed to him in the ring.
Wade hummed.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said.
Mr. Nelson sniffed.
“Just call Michelle,” he said. “She scares the shit out of him.”
A thoughtful pause.
“Nah, he’ll like that.”
“Mm.”
“We’re graduating, Pete. Helmet.”
“WADE, THIS MAN IS GOING TO KILL ME.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Wade said as he demolished Mr. Nelson in a matching game on their phones.
Miles had some serious, serious concerns about these people because when the fighting started up in earnest in there, no one did anything.
“He’s sturdy,” Little Spidey informed him.
She was terrifying.
Miles was horrified, straight up, 100%, bonafide, horrified. Mr. Murdock finally let them in the room and he was a nightmare. And not the oh-how-embarrassing kind.
No.
Mr. Murdock fought like Tats Spidey was his actual enemy. His worst enemy. Like he was his last enemy on earth and Mr. Murdock was going to make it fucking count this last time. Peter had to use super-strength to keep Gwen from leaping onto him and beating the shit out of him.
Tats Spidey, to his credit, had stopped wailing once he’d realized that Wade wasn’t going to help him, and honestly? Wade was probably the only one who could help him at this point. It became very obvious, very quickly who had taught Tats Spidey how to throw down, and it became very obvious, very quickly that he had yet to overtake his teacher.
Mr. Murdock nearly broke through the floorboards with one of his punches.
He had to have broken a knuckle or two.
He did not care.
Tats Spidey did not care either. He was trying to break the guy’s other wrist. Without success unfortunately, because it is very hard to do things when you can’t breathe. And Mr. Murdock was letting him breathe only when he absolutely needed it.
Yeah.
Yeah, that was terror inducing.
“You can do better than that, kid,” Mr. Murdock sang when Tats Spidey started convulsing, trying to loosen his grip on his neck.
“C’mon kiddo, do better. BETTER.”
Christ.
Bitsy Miles didn’t seem to want to watch either.
“BETTER, PETER. COME ON.”
Tats Spidey almost passed out, but Mr. Murdock jerked him and released his neck so that he could gasp a few times and cough.
“You’re out of shape, kid,” he said disappointedly when Tats Spidey caught his breath.
“F-fuck you.”
“That’s more like it. Saved your favorite for last, Pete. Everyone’s gonna line up.”
Wait.
What?
They were part of this?
“Y’all deaf? Line up.”
Yes sir, Mr. Murdock, you monster, sir.
Everyone formed three very, very anxious lines across the width of the room.
“Lights out,” Mr. Murdock said.
“Fuck you,” Tats Spidey spat.
And Miles realized then exactly what was about to happen. Following that realization with another one: this wasn’t about Tats Spidey being scared anymore.
Mr. Murdock was going to turn each and every one of them into a medium, so help him God.
Lights out.
There was nothing more terrifying in the world than standing in a pitch black room with the windows covered over, with nothing but the knowledge that an absolute maniac was going to try to beat the shit out of your new friend in the space around you for comfort.
Ahahahahaha
He wanted to go home.
“I didn’t sign up for this,” his own voice gritted out somewhere behind him.
I feel you, Bitsy. I feel you.
Wade laughed.
He was horrible, too. All these people were the fucking worst.
He heard the sound of someone standing up behind him. The Spidey Sense went wild. He heard Peter hiss softly, ‘fuck;’ he started apologizing if he hit anyone in advance.
“What’s the matter, kiddo?” they heard Mr. Murdock goading. “Can’t see in the dark?”
The crack of a fist being blocked broke just a few feet behind Miles and it was followed by another one and then one of Peter’s frantic apologies.
“Hey, you’re not bad,” Mr. Murdock said with far too much interest.
“No, no. Actually, I’m terrible,” Peter stammered.
“You wanna play too?”
“I’d rather eat shit, if I’m honest.”
Mr. Murdock laughed again and Miles felt him move past his right hand side. He shivered. The near negligible steps next to him stopped. The Spidey Sense pulsed over and over and over in the back of his neck.
“Go on, ask,” Mr. Murdock said. That wasn’t him next to Miles. Oh god, that wasn’t him, that was Tats Spidey, waiting. Crouching.
“Where are you?” Tats Spidey asked the room.
He choked out of nowhere and went down hard and the heat and the sound and the struggle was right next to Miles. The sound of fist meeting flesh once, twice. A scramble and gasp and grunt of effort. Then nothing.
“The fuck are you?” Tats Spidey spat, furious and scrambling back up.
His Spidey Sense was so strong in the dark, Christ. It was making everything worse, it was setting off Miles’s and Peter’s and no doubt Bitsy’s and they were rippling out and tripping each others’ all over as they did so.
“I dunno,” Mr. Murdock’s voice came from farther away this time. “Ask again.”
“Where are you?”
Tats Spidey was just mad now and his fury made his voice drop and made his footsteps quieter and Mr. Murdock’s taunting just made him better. Miles didn’t even hear the creak of the wood before a hand blocked another right next to his ear.
He thought he’d had a heart attack for a second.
But then he realized that the blackness was different.
He looked down and saw nothing. Looked up and saw nothing.
He remembered this space from his dream.
He took a step and watched behind him as the colors sparked. He looked up and saw another burst of color some ways away.
“Hello?” he called.
“Hello?” someone answered him.
“Hello?” he called again, moving forward. He jolted. His feet got stuck, but after the initial jolt passed he could move again.
“Is—Is someone there?” the familiar voice, the screaming voice, called again.
Another jolt.
Wait. Those were the strikes. That was Mr. Murdock and Peter fighting around him, scaring the shit out of him. He was the medium now. He started running, before the fear in the real world wore off.
“Where are you?” he shouted. And slipped. The colors crashed out all around him.
“Right here, where are you?” the other voice yelped.
There.
Miles could just barely make it out. A little spark of gold and green in the distance. He forced himself up and started running again.
Then jolted. Froze.
Someone was shouting in pain; he couldn’t tell if it was this world or the one outside.
“H-Hello? Are you still there?” the voice called.
The pain outside didn’t matter. That was a future-Miles problem. Present-Miles had to find this voice.
He ran. Until the gold and green sparks started to look like the ripples bounding out from his own steps. The ones ahead were orange now, orange, gold, and green. Then blue, orange, gold, and green, then pink, orange, gold, and—
“Hello? Please, god—hello?”
He knew that voice. He’d know that voice from anywhere. Anytime. He’d know that voice for the rest of his life even though he’d only heard it for five minutes in total.
“PETER,” he screamed.
The sparks froze over there. Miles didn’t need the fear anymore. He had a face. He had a name. He shared a universe with this man—this was his Spiderman.
“Peter! Peter, where are you?” he cried. Scrambling forward.
There was a long pause and his heart sank and when he came to a stop, he felt lost. Couldn’t tell the direction anymore. Up and down were gone, there were no responding sparks to keep him grounded.
“Peter Parker!” he shouted. “Spiderman, where are you? I can help you! Where are you?”
“You’re like me—you’re the one like me!”
Miles couldn’t breathe. The darkness was suffocating.
“Yes,” he croaked. “Where are you?”
The voice was gone again. Peter Parker, the Peter Parker was gone. Again.
“Mr. Parker,” he shouted. “My name is Miles, you’re my Spiderman. We shared a universe. You died. But I want to help you, you have to tell me where you are.”
“I died?”
Where had that come from? It wasn’t in front of him anymore. Miles couldn’t see any sparks besides the ones he was making.
“You died,” he confirmed. “Wilson Fisk killed you. But I can still hear you—we all can still hear you. Why? Where are you?”
“No,” Peter Parker said softly, wherever he was, he was purposefully standing still now, so Miles couldn’t see the sparks he made, so he couldn’t see him. Then louder, he said “No, no, no, no. You can’t—no. Go back. Whoever you are, it’s a trap. I—I think I remember now. Go back.”
Go? Back?
“I’m not going back,” Miles said. “You were—you are my Spiderman—”
“No, Miles. You’re Spiderman now. I—I can’t—you need to go back. Please, Miles, it’s a trap. I remember now. You all need to ignore me. Just ignore me. I’m sorry, I’ll stay quiet. I can’t live here, I’ve got to die eventually again soon. Just ignore me until then, I’m just a ghost.”
A ghost?
Did ghosts scream in pain?
Did ghosts try to save others?
Did ghosts sacrifice themselves?
Miles thought not, and he wasn’t scared anymore.
“I’m going to save you,” he said. The darkness was falling away. “I think I know where you are.”
“Go—”
He opened his eyes and, without thinking, threw out his arm. He didn’t know how he’d expected the blow, but he caught the full of it on his outer forearm and it was strong. And it hurt.
But he wasn’t scared.
“I got him,” he said.