Chapter Text
After saying his final goodbyes to Ned and MJ, Peter went to Happy’s apartment. He didn’t know where else to go, really. The place was completely destroyed, with rubble scattered everywhere. Just another reminder of how badly Peter had fucked up. Still, despite the damage, the alarm system was in place. He wouldn’t be welcome here for much longer. Soon enough, Happy would check his security cameras and realize there was an intruder. Because Peter was an intruder now. Not May’s nephew. Not the most important person in her life. Peter didn’t have anybody, anymore. Maybe it was a blessing May was dead, so he wouldn’t have to see the recognition leaving her eyes. As soon as Peter thought that, he felt incredibly guilty. May was a million times better than he could ever be. She was the one who deserved to be standing here, not him.
Lingering would only make all his negative emotions even worse. Peter wasn’t about to go empty handed, though. He needed memories, something to help him when he was beginning to forget the exact curves and dimples of Aunt May’s face. That meant photos, albums, really anything he could get his hands on. May and Peter had never completely finished unpacking, but there should at least be something. He scrounged through the destruction as quickly as he could, spending only a few moments shoving belongings into the bottom of his bag. The rest of the space was reserved for things like clothes and food, which he actually needed. He knew he would likely be on the street for a while before he could find lodging, and didn’t want to be completely empty handed. Still, he had left a bit of room for his mementoes. They were the only things that would keep him sane as he made it through these times. If he even did.
Peter only realized it might have been a mistake much later, when finally found the courage to look at the photos…and realized he was completely missing from them. Well, of course he was. The spell erased everything about Peter Parker. That didn’t stop the hurt that pierced through his chest so deeply he thought he must have been actually injured.
All the memories went to the bottom of his backpack, and then in a pile in the corner of his apartment. As Peter was studying for his GED, they stayed there. As he got accepted into Empire State University with a full scholarship, they remained. Then, Peter was moving into a new dorm room. He looked at the pile in the corner, and guilt filled him from head to toe. Even though it was painful, he couldn’t just throw those mementoes away. Instead, upon arriving at his new residence, Peter decided to actually sort through them. See which ones were good enough to be displayed in the limited space he had. Maybe he could even take new photos of himself, tape the cutout back into the frames. That was a pathetic idea, but Peter couldn’t help himself from thinking about it. Still, he pushed it to the back of his mind and continued.
Peter frowned as he reached the very bottom. This…wasn’t a photo. It was a letter. It was absolutely covered in dust, and the paper was peeling with age. The name Richard was written in cursive, by a hand Peter didn’t recognize. He did know the name, though. Richard was his father’s name. This letter must be addressed to his father.
The seal was unbroken. It had never been seen by any eyes, even those of the desired recipient. That just spiked Peter’s curiosity even further. He opened it, and began to read.
Dear Richard,
Oh, the love of my life. I am so sorry that I can’t bear to tell you this in person. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones. I love our baby already, but I can’t wait until he or she gets out of me! That’s beside the point, though. I’m procrastinating, like I always am. I just can’t keep it from you anymore.
Peter almost fell off his chair when he saw the first paragraph. This…was about him. It was clearly written by Mary, his mother. And, unless she had a miscarriage, the baby must be Peter. But how? Doctor Strange’s spell was supposed to erase every trace of him. This message’s existence meant something went wrong. Would the multiverse become unstable again? He needed to tell the sorcerer about this.
Although…the letter technically wasn’t about Peter. Mary wrote about her unborn child. She was clearly early in the pregnancy if she didn’t even know Peter’s gender yet. And the spell was supposed to target Peter Parker, not Mary Parker’s unborn child. Perhaps this had slipped through the cracks thanks to a technicality.
Peter was glad to have some reminder of his existence, even if he wasn’t mentioned by name. Eager to see what came next, he started again from the beginning. This time, no matter the contents, he wouldn’t stop until reaching the end.
That promise ended up being a herculean struggle. Peter’s eyes grew wider with every sentence, and a hand came to cover his mouth in shock.
Dear Richard,
Oh, the love of my life. I am so sorry that I can’t bear to tell you this in person. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones. I love our baby already, but I can’t wait until he or she gets out of me! That’s beside the point, though. I’m procrastinating, like I always am. I just can’t keep it from you anymore.
I cheated on you. I think you probably already know that, though. It’s not possible to reverse your kind of infertility, no matter how many doctors we visit. And you’re probably so excited to have a child that you can’t even stay mad at me. But you should be. Because I fucked up. Really, really badly. I can’t believe I let myself do such a thing. I don’t want to give any excuses, but I will tell you the whole story.
We met at that conference back in November 2000. Remember the one? Well, it started off as a completely casual conversation. He was interested in my work, and I was intruiged by his. Or, more accurately, him. Quite frankly, I was a bit shocked to see him there. It didn’t take that long for our casual conversation to become a bit more flirty. Then it was blatant flirting. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but he was just so charming. One thing led to another, and then I was in bed with Tony Stark. One thing led to another, and there the baby was.
I regret doing it, but I don’t regret keeping the pregnancy. Please, if something happens to me, let our child know about this. I guess they’re not really ‘our’ child, but I hope you see them as your own. Really, the whole reason I’m writing this letter is in case something goes horribly wrong and I die before I can tell you in person. Thankfully, that’s unlikely. I’m sure I’ll be able to work up the courage, someday.
I don’t want any of Stark’s money. I don’t even want him to know. He’s irresponsible and drunk all the time. He would be an absolutely horrible father. I just needed you to know, Richard. And our baby deserves the truth someday, too.
I truly hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
Love,
Mary
Peter dropped the letter to the ground. The almost imperceptible sound of it hitting seemed like a gunshot. Despite his powers, his grip just kept slipping and slipping until he couldn’t hold on any longer. That…couldn’t be true. Surely this wasn’t talking about him. Peter didn’t want to believe it. But everything fit. And who else could it be about? Even the dates lined up perfectly. Peter was too shellshocked to wipe the tears that had started falling away. Of course. Of fucking course. It was just his luck that he would find out about this several years too late.
Tony Stark was his biological father.
Tears slid down his face, leaving his cheeks damp. Peter barely even noticed. “No. That can’t be. I can’t…”
All that time spent together, and Peter had never suspected a single thing. Dozens of hours sitting next to Tony in a lab, and Peter hadn’t even known he was right by his own father. For most of his life, he assumed his parents were dead. Then Uncle Ben died, and Aunt May much too soon after. His entire family completely wiped out. But…Tony had been there, too. He could have been the one to comfort him after Ben’s death, perfectly slot himself into that newly open role of ‘father.’ He did to an extent, but not enough. And now it was too late. Tony was gone even before May was. If only Peter had discovered this letter sooner, maybe he could have spent some time with his father. But he didn’t, so he never got the chance. And he never would, now.
We won, Mr. Stark! We won…
“I can’t be his son.”
Peter didn’t deserve to be his son. Tony Stark was a true hero who saved so many lives. Who sacrificed himself to save literally half the universe, Peter included. Meanwhile, Peter Parker was a fuckup who couldn’t do anything right. Uncle Ben died because he was a coward. May died because of him. And Tony…well, he had heard the full story from Pepper. Tony could have just lived his nice life with Pepper and Morgan. Instead, he literally invented time travel. All for a chance to save Peter. Then, he died. Tony’s life for Peter’s. And what had Peter done with it? Absolutely nothing! Mysterio’s attack on London was because of Peter trusting him. The multiverse almost fell apart because he ruined Strange’s spell. All Peter could do was fail and cause pain. Everywhere he went, people were hurt. People died. Tony was worthy of a much better son than Peter.
God, Peter knew he didn’t deserve a break. He didn’t deserve anything. But couldn’t he get one singular respite?! Just when he had finally come to terms with Tony’s passing, May died too. And when he had begun to heal from that, just a little bit…this happened. Peter’s life was one shitshow after another. An endless line of tragedies that would presumably persist until his journey came to a close. Which would be sooner rather than later, at this point. If a villain didn’t kill him, Peter would do it himself. Every time he went swinging, he hesitated to shoot the next web out. Wondering what would happen if he just let himself fall.
Tony used to be a mess, but he bettered himself and got his life together. Peter wasn’t strong enough to do any of that. He couldn’t even fulfill his promise to MJ.
It would have been so much easier if Tony had remained as a father figure, not his actual father. Peter could accept that. He already had. Waking up on a battlefield, finding out he had missed five years…that was bad enough. Tony succumbing to his injuries after that felt like another slap to his heart. As the months passed and Peter tried to come to terms with it, the media still blasted him. Wondering when he would become the next Iron Man. Then Beck. Fucking Beck. He completely ruined any chance Peter had at a good life. The small comfort was that it finally allowed him to step outside of Tony’s legacy, to accept he was Spider-Man. Not Iron Man Jr.
But…this? Well, it changed everything. At least it did in Peter’s mind. Sure, Tony being his dad technically had no impact on his current life. Tony was gone, and he was never coming back. It didn’t matter that he was his father, anymore. Mentally, though? Peter was absolutely shattered. He tried to tell himself he would get past this roadblock, too. Spider-Man always got up, no matter what. At least, that was what Peter used to believe. He wasn’t so sure, anymore. It was all just so damn hard.
Peter didn’t know what was worse: having a dead father who he never got to truly know, or a father who looked at him with no spark of recognition in his expression. At least Peter was spared from that second fate. But if Tony was still alive, maybe Peter could have reached out to him. Rekindled their relationship. Or, more accurately, created a new one. If Tony was just still alive…
Damn it. Peter should have died instead of him. He should have used the Infinity Gauntlet to snap. Why did he have to live when everyone who was ever close to him died?!
Peter sobbed for hours. When he was done, he threw the letter straight into the trash can.
The years flew by, after that. Peter graduated from ESU, fought way too many villains, got a job with a boss that constantly smeared his name…and through all of that, what initially seemed so difficult became somewhat easier to process. Then much easier. Until Peter barely even thought about it anymore, just accepting it as a fact of life he couldn’t change. Tony was his father. Tony was dead. It didn’t matter.
He reached an uneasy status quo, one where he was Spider-Man much more than he was Peter Parker. He even started sleeping in the suit, occasionally. Being Spider-Man was the only thing in his life that brought him any semblance of happiness. He was beloved, as Spider-Man. On the other hand, Peter Parker was a nobody who had nothing left. His friends didn’t remember him, and he purposely pushed everybody away in college and at The Daily Bugle. After graduating, he quit that job. Then he truly had nothing, since he just wasted his degree and didn’t bother to get a new one. He had a few miscellaneous ones to earn cash, but nothing stable with sustained human interaction. That was alright. Spider-Man was more important anyways. Much more important than anything else—including a father who was already dead.
Eventually, his life started to become just a bit more bearable. Frank was an asshole, but he always brought an extra spark of light to Peter’s day. This current investigation was interesting, too. It gave him a purpose. He would find whoever was possessing people, and stop them. Just like he had stopped every other villain that came his way. Then he would move on to the next one. And the next…and the next. It never stopped. Peter would never be able to stop.
And then a bullet rammed its way straight through Peter’s chest.
He could feel Jean using her powers on him, trying to psychically pump blood through his body and oxygen through his lungs. Peter let her, although he knew it was a useless endeavor. Frank’s aim was too precise, his caliber too strong. Peter didn’t even know if he wanted to live, anyways. Maybe it was his time.
I don’t want to go, Mr. Stark. I don’t want to go.
He used to want to live so badly…had begged to live. Tony answered his prayers, in return for giving his own life. But now MJ didn’t love him, and Ned didn’t remember him. He had nothing left except Spider-Man. He had said he was both Peter and Spider-Man…but was that even true?
If there was an afterlife, at least he would be able to see his loved ones. Finally, somebody would acknowledge his existence. The spell hadn’t affected the dead. At least, Peter didn’t think it had. If even death wasn’t a reprieve from this nightmare, he didn’t know what he would do. Believing that May and Tony and all the others would remember was a comfort he needed in his final moments.
I’ll get to see my father again… Peter thought. I’m going to see Tony… It was his last thought before finally succumbing to the darkness, never to reawaken. Except…then he did.
Eleven years in the past, Peter Parker’s eyes opened.