Chapter Text
When Fates Collide
~I~
It was almost funny, one might say, how his life was so twisted and fucked up that it became an ironic joke; he himself would agree wholeheartedly, if only it didn't hurt so much...
And oh boy... how much did it hurt...
...
In the aftermath of his last great battle, Peter had never felt so alone in his entire life. His aunt was dead... His best friend and his girlfriend didn’t remember him, everything he had before was gone, and any prospects for the future he might once have had had also vanished into the void.
He started from scratch... a homemade suit, a small and almost empty rented apartment, a simple job as a photographer at the same newspaper that once didn’t hesitate to rip him apart in the media, putting up with J. Jonah Jameson everyday as his boss. And even if the old guy didn’t remember him either, it still sucks.
No high tech equipment, no super villains, no late night in the laboratories, no having fun with his friend and girlfriend, and no arriving home to warm hugs and maternal good night kisses.
Adulthood fell heavily on his shoulders because the memories remained, and every night after he lay in bed they came back to haunt him, reminding him of happier days that never existed in that reality, but that still existed in his heart and it was worse than if he had never lived them at all.
Every day he woke up to the same routine: his landlord’s complaints about the overdue rent, seeing Ned’s and MJ’s blank stares at the coffee shop, hearing Jameson’s screams that his photos were horrible and that he would only pay three times less what they were actually worth of, and trying to get his head back together while patrolling the city’s neighborhoods at night until he was so tired he couldn’t think about anything else anymore.
But at night the memories still kept coming back...
He once considered seek out Dr. Strange and ask for help, but besides the jerk who caused all this in the first place didn’t remember him either, Peter found out that, in the end, he didn’t have the courage to érase from himself his friends laughter, his aunt’s smile or the shining, lively eyes of his mentor and father figure...
So he endured day after day as best as he could.
His decision to stay down in his city didn’t stop Spider-Man from being noticed, and months later, somehow he still got stuck with Dr. Strange and a couple of superheroes to fight another goddamn psycho that wished to conquer/destroy their world.
It just took all hell breaking loose, a few ring spins, a big dose of magic and a good punch on his face for Peter to get caught in the middle of the multiverse's whirlwind and slam his ass down in an entitelly different reality, with not a single idea of when Strange would realize their spider was missing and appear from nowhere to pick him up.
...
The Sorcerer Supreme had explained to him the complexity of the formation of worlds and the fragile lines that gave shape to the multiverse; to him it all seemed madness, but the truth was that it made even less sense the deeper he delved and became involved by it.
...
Peter struggled along the narrow, difficult passage up the mountainside, hugging the thick coat he had borrowed earlier in an attempt to keep himself warm while mentally cursing the heavy snowfall that seemed endless and Strange for throwing him away so far from home.
Why the hell did he fell near a village in Tibet and not in New York, London, or anywhere else that wasn't frozen and in the middle of nowhere?
Without options and not knowing when his sorcerer supreme would finally show up, he forced himself to buy warm clothes with the last money still left in his pants pocket to hide his suit from view, and after some advice from the villagers he started to climb up the mountain, remembering that somewhere around there the monk's monasteries were hidden and that through them he could contact the Dr. Strange of that new universe.
Annoyed and muttering darkly under his breath, imagining various ways he might strangle a certain sorcerer with his web as soon as he saw him again, the young man absentmindedly misstepped and his feet suddenly sank into the snow trapped under a rock; with a shout of surprise, Peter fell forward and sprawled himself on the ground, his face sinking into the thick white layer of ice.
With the last of his body's heat gone and feeling completely frozen from head to toe, Peter sat up and cursed aloud, his brown eyes glared back at the crap he'd stumbled upon, only to widen in astonishment.
Partially covered by the snow, almost unrecognizable, was a human body.
His reaction kicked in and the next second he was kneeling beside the man.
“H-Hey! Sir! Sir!”
His trembling, cold hands shook the other, but he remained motionless and unresponsive. Perplexed, Peter's fingers fumbled clumsily around the man's clothes until they touched his neck and found a tiny, weak pulse.
How did that guy ended up unconcious in that backwater in the middle of a snowstorm? He highly doubted it was the work of random wizards like himself, but given the situation, it was a miracle the man was even still alive.
The stranger was covered in snow and thick, high-quality clothing, a cap hiding part of his face. Peter adjusted them tighter to try to preserve his body heat and scooped the guy up. With his super strength, he easily placed him on his back, pinning his arms around his shoulders and securing his legs to his waist. Without wasting any more time, the young superhero hurried up the mountainside, racing through the narrow passage, his sense of urgency weighing even more heavily on him.
There was no telling how long the guy had been out in the snow, and weakened, his life might be hanging by a thread; he needed to find the monasteries as soon as possible.
Peter ran without stopping, pushing himself as hard as he could. The man on his shoulders was heavy, and if it were not for his superhuman strength, Peter doubted he would have been able to carry him while going up the mountain through the blizzard without slowing down.
Soon the passage gave way to great walls, steep and high, and Peter had to cling to the rock with his bare hands and climb with all the care in the world to prevent the ice from blocking the contact of his skin on the smooth surface and sending them both tumbling down the precipice. Only after several tense minutes did he manage to find a safer route, allowing him to continue again on foot.
Peter could barely see ahead, but he proceeded quickly and cautiously; the day was fading and the night was descending upon them as the cold also seemed to grow stronger.
He didn't even think again of his irritation with Dr. Strange throughout the entire journey, his concern remained faithful only to his current mission, and his fingers constantly searched for the man's neck or wrist to ensure his pulse was still there, weak but always steady, refusing to give up, and Peter pushed himself harder, also refusing to give in to the exhaustion that was gradually taking over his being.
He didn't know how many hours had passed until, mercifully, his blurred vision glimpsed the monks' monastery in the distance, but he thanked the heavens when, upon knocking heavily on the door, they answered promptely, rushing them inside and relieving him of his precious burden.
The next few minutes passed quickly in a blur; the monks checked him up and offered him a hot drink and food, and soon the young man passed out on a soft, comfortable bed, completely overcome by exhaustion.
...
The multiverse offered trillions upon trillions of possibilities and outcomes... a single decision, a single choice could change the fate of generations to come. Life or death, to do or not to do, different and unexpected pair of hands offering help, and even a single answer to a marriage proposal... this simple difference is enough to fragment the timeline into two distinct and opposing strands.
In his universe, a very distant ancestor had said 'yes'; in this one, the answer was 'no'. Generations later, while his universe's strand gave rise to the family named 'Stark', in this one, it was known as 'Von Doom'.
...
Peter stirred, drowsy, but feeling better than he had in a very long time... the monks had definitely drugged his tea.
He opened his eyes suddenly; it all rushed back to him.
The battle against the invaders, the superheroes' assemble, Dr. Strange's intervention and the opening of the multiverse gate; himself being dragged into it and getting lost somewhere in Tibet; the mountain and the unconscious man in the snow...
Peter stood, found new warm clothes beside his bed and put them on, keeping his suit hidden underneath not wanting to let it show at first. When he left the room and walked through the corridors lit by the daylight streaming through the windows, the soft scent of incense permeating the place, it wasn't long before he encountered someone else.
The monk smiled and bowed with his hands in the traditional Buddhist greeting, and Peter awkwardly imitated the gesture quickly.
"It's nice to see you well and recovered, young man; I imagine your journey has been difficult and tiring." He spoke in heavily accented English.
"Thank you very much once again for having me." The young superhero repeated sincerely.
"You don't need too thank, it is our mission and nature to assist and care for the life that exists in this world and all the creatures that inhabit it in peace. My name is Tenzin Nyima, and I am the master of this sacred monastery..."
"My name is Peter, sir." The younger man introduced himself at the other's silent invitation.
"And what could the Tibetan monks help you with in your search, young Peter?" Tenzin asked, inviting him to join him on a short walk and Peter stood beside him. They both walked slowly down the corridor.
"I truly came seeking help," the young man confirmed sheepishly. "I urgently need to speak with the Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange; only he can help me."
Tenzin stopped abruptly and stared at the young man with evident surprise and curiosity, and Peter began to feel an uncomfortable sinking feeling.
"I'm sorry, but I regret to inform you that I don't know a Sorcerer Supreme named Stephen Strange, and your question with that specific name is strange indeed. There is only one Sorcerer Supreme who has been the guardian of our teachings for centuries: the Ancient One."
Peter paled. The cold water was so strong it made him nauseous, and his discomfort was so evident that the monk stated looking at him with sympathy and concern.
"T-that's... that's impossible... Mr. Tenzin... he's the one who brought me here; only he knows who I am and can take me home! If I can't talk to him, I'll be trapped here!"
The young man was speaking strangely, but the desperation in his voice was genuine, and Tenzin sympathized.
"I don't understand the circumstances that brought you to us, but I'm sure the Ancient One will be able to help you. I'll send a message informing of your arrival and request, and I'll let you know as soon as I get a response."
Peter thanked him again without much enthusiasm, observing the snow-capped mountains in the distance and the desolate landscape, which seemed to reflect his current state of spirit. It had never crossed his mind that he might fall into a universe where Dr. Strange wasn't the Sorcerer Supreme... did he even exist in that reality?
Was he really trapped there? What would he do if the Ancient One wasn't able to help him? How could he make they believe he is from another universe?
Tenzin placed a hand on his shoulder, interrupting his mental breakdown.
"For now, you should rest and regain your strength. This monastery will be your shelter for as long as you need it." Changing the subject, the monk added, "The man you brought with you yesterday is ill. It will take a few days for him to fully recover, but he's been awake since early this morning, and we informed him that you saved his life."
Peter looked at the monk relieved and Tenzin encouraged him.
"If you wish, you may go see him."
The young superhero agreed, and the monk began to walk again, guiding him to another part of the monastery.
At least something good had happened amidst all that chaos; that guy hadn't died on him and it helped to ease his inconsolable discouragement.
Tenzin stopped in front of a room, knocked briefly and entered, greeting its occupant; before Peter could follow him inside, the other man's voice made him freeze in the doorway, deeply in shock.
The familiar, longing, undeniable voice he thought he would never hear again in his entire life.
"What do you want now, monk?"
"The young man who saved your life wants to see how you are; when we mentioned what happened to you earlier, you expressed the desire to meet him, so I brought him here."
Tenzin returned to the door and touched the younger man's arm, pulling him, encouraging him inside.
"Come, come, you may enter."
With slow, numb steps, Peter allowed himself to be led; wide eyes and perplexed, he openly stared hard at the seated form of the man who raised his head to meet him. The right half of his face was covered with bandages, concealing a wound, but the rest of what was visible was unmistakably his.
Peter felt his throat close and the air suffocate in his lungs, and he completely forgot about everything else. He took a staggering step forward.
"T... Tony... M-Mr. Stark... How... How..."
He could hardly believe his own eyes, he could hardly think straight... his mentor and father figure was alive... he was alive! How was that possible?!
Laughing and crying hysterically, to the astonishment of the other two, the younger threw himself at the foot of the bed and embraced the man tightly as if his very life depended on it, crying heavily into his shoulder.
"Mr. Stark! You're alive! Oh my god! You're alive! I'm so glad! I'm so happy to see you again, sir!"
The man grunted in pain, and even weakened, he managed for a moment to overcome the younger man's iron grip and shoved him away. Peter fell on his ass at the floor, stunned.
"That's enough, stop it," he said coldly.
"Do you two know each other?" Tenzin asked, confused.
"I've never seen him before in my life," his older guest replied before Peter could even retort.
The young man's eyes met his with open hurt and rejection.
"But... but sir... Mr. Stark... it's me..." Peter's voice trailed off until it faded completely, and the cold, ironic truth reminded him again that he was no longer in his reality where everyone had forgotten him, but was now lost in a universe where no one knew him.
He felt like a complete fool, but his slumped form must have been so genuine and pathetic that it made the man speak directly to him once more, this time his tone mild.
"I don't know any Stark either, kid. I don't know who you're mistaking me with, but I'm not that person. My name is Victor von Doom."
...
It was a cruel and ironic joke... and it hurt so much... they had the same face, the same voice... they were the same man and at the same time they weren't... In the last time he had looked into those brown eyes, they were warm had stared back at him full of emotion... now, those same brown eyes watched him back with only indifference.