Chapter Text
After the incident with the Westcotts, Peter decides he'd rather starve or freeze to death on the streets of Gotham than trust the CPSG even once more. The first few weeks are the hardest. He misses school, the library too, and even though he's clearly not the only kid living in Crime Alley, he feels terribly alone. The apartment where he and his mother lived is now completely abandoned, and Peter has taken advantage of this to make it his more or less permanent home (because nothing in this life can afford to be permanent).
On the hardest days, he visits the Wayne Foundation shelters, but this always brings up a lot of questions from the volunteers. Peter hates it, when adults look at him with pity, the hesitation clearly visible on their faces, whether to call social services or let it be. Luckily for him, no volunteer has ever reported him, although it may be because he does everything he can to never stay in one place for too long. He knows the streets now, and even though he's still young, and even though he still hasn't regained his powers, the feeling of comfort he had when he was Spider-Man and moved easily around New York City sometimes resurfaces. Although without his increased agility, Peter has a much harder time, he still loves climbing up onto rooftops to admire the view. In these nostalgic moments, he likes to feel above the world, being able to see and hear everything.
He tries to work here and there, except that of course, few people are desperate enough to need a seven-and-a-half-year-old child. To survive in the long term, Peter is forced to continue 'the little jobs' to which the system has already accustomed him. As always, nothing too incriminating, because his background as Spider-Man, or simply ethics, definitely prevent him from selling drugs to poor people in distress. So he just steals what he can afford and what he knows will be useful to him. His easy knowledge of the alleys made it easy for him to disappear when he was caught stealing a few things from a convenience store, not to mention his almost supernatural ability to blend into the darkness of Gotham. Peter knows the restaurants where the employees are nice enough to give him leftovers from the service, or those where the owners are crazy enough to throw away the week's unsold food. Since living on the streets, Peter realizes that food waste is one of the worst crimes against humanity!
Currently on the roof of an apartment with his feet dangling, Peter devoured the third portion of butter chicken that a restaurant employee a few meters below had given him instead of throwing it all in the trash. His slovenly childish style and his frayed clothes always made the hearts of young workers weak, which didn't displease him. Peter had forgotten what it was like to be a little terror who took advantage of his baby cheeks to soften his victims with his puppy eyes. The streets had taught him that cunning was always necessary to survive outside, even though he was barely 3.7 feet tall, and that if he wanted to survive, all means were good.
From his perch, he can observe a good portion of Crime Alley and the Bowery, made visible by the absence of the mist that usually obscures everything at this hour. At first, too busy inhaling his meal while listening to the police sirens echoing below, Peter doesn't immediately notice the feline figure silently escaping from a building to his right. It's only once the figure abruptly leaps onto the same rooftop as him that he looks away from his meal to stare at the young woman. Peter uses all his mental strength to hide his fear and surprise behind a cold expression, as he feels his fingers tremble around the cardboard bowl that houses his meal. The thief (because given her outfit, she can only be a thief) is dressed in a black faux-leather jumpsuit that barely reflects the light, topped with a short leather jacket and accompanied by a homemade black hood that reveals the lower part of her face. The whole thing is designed to facilitate agility and quick movements, perfect for climbing, sneaking, and fighting. Peter's eyes almost too easily analyze the suit, which is meant to be functional, to survive in the city's surrounding crime.
Their eyes meet, and Peter is surprised by her tender gaze, absent of any pity. “Well... a lost kitten.” Surprised at first, he turns his head to look for any cat nearby, but her amused laughter brings him back to focus his attention on her. A soft smile graces her face, but the action seems unusual, almost like a mirage. Something forgetful vibrates in Peter's chest, and he still doesn't know if he likes the feeling or not. “I'm talking about you, kitten.” She points at him with a strangely manicured hand, gently mocking him.
“About me?” he asks, puzzled, pointing a finger at his own chest.
“Of course I’m talking about you, kitten! Who else do you see on that roof?” She slowly approaches him, but Peter freezes in her tracks. He thinks back to all those people on the street who seemed well-intentioned on the surface, but were only driven by greed. Instinctively rising, he finds himself standing on the small ledge of the roof, agonizingly close to the edge. The young woman’s hooded face contorts at the sight, making Peter’s small body tremble even more.
“Who are you and what do you want? We don't know each other, do we?” he says dryly.
She blinks for a few minutes before sighing almost in exasperation. “No, we don't know each other, for now. I'm Selina, and what's your name, little kitten?”
“Peter.”
“Peter?” she asks, even though she was the first one to reveal only her first name. “Well, Peter, it seems we're not strangers anymore, do we?”
“It seems…” he mutters, pouting, prompting another scoff from Selina, which immediately causes his entire face to blush.
Still smiling in that oddly sweet way, she extends a hand toward Peter. “How about you back away from the edge before you give me a heart attack, right kitten?” Not having noticed how close he'd come, Peter looks back at the dimly lit street, unafraid of the heights. When he turns back to her, her hand is still there, welcoming and caring; he can't help but take it.
• • •
His relationship with Selina is…odd? The word seems right, but at the same time too awkward. Are they roommates? In a way, Peter imagines that's right, given that he's been sleeping on the sofa-bed in Selina's small living room for over three weeks. However, that can't be entirely true, given that Peter doesn't contribute to any household expenses, like rent, groceries, or their regular meals at Bat Burger. Peter wishes he could say he doesn't enjoy being so dependent on someone, but he also has to admit that he hasn't trusted someone this much since… a long time… Yet when Selina kisses him on the temple after one of their many movie nights in the living room, where Peter gorges himself so much on ‘Night-Wings’ that he might die of suffocation, he must admit that the warmth in his chest does him good.
Even though it's been long and painful, Peter has to admit he trusts Selina now. She's shown him her face, her home, the countless cats she lives with, expecting nothing from him in return. Selina has a kind heart, in a way Peter can only compare to Aunt May or Mommy. It's reassuring and warm, and some days he likes to think he's actually not so different from all the stray cats she constantly takes in. She takes care of him, feeds him when he wants to, nurses him when he gets sick, and strokes his hair when he needs comforting. Selina's apartment is like a bubble to him, and he wishes he could never leave. Unfortunately for Peter, bubbles only exist to be burst.
Sometimes Selina leaves very late at night. Even later than when she goes out as Catwoman, and often in an outfit that is not very suitable for climbing or fighting. Some nights, Peter wonders where she is going so late in Gotham. Other nights, Peter prefers not to think about it... especially after finding some Drops pills in one of the drawers in the small kitchen. It's at times like these that eighteen-year-old Peter is glad to be trapped in the envelope of a seven-year-old. He's still ignorant of some of the ugly things in this world, though Gotham has already begun to ruin what little innocence he has left.
At least since he's been at Selina's he feels like he's regained the bit of normalcy he lost along with his mother. And the fact that Selina works only at night, makes it all even better than Peter could have even hoped for when he ran away from the Westcotts. Now that he's with an adult, he doesn't have to hide when he goes out on the town when all the other kids his age are supposed to be at school, even though it's still not certain if they'll run into a police officer. Yet Peter still goes out of his way to convince Selina to take him to the library, thus getting them out of the small apartment a bit. Selina doesn't seem particularly keen on reading, but at least aside from a few students it's never too crowded when they go there.
Once at the library, he finds it particularly funny to look at the subtleties between the books he remembers from his original universe, and those present in this world. Today he managed to get his hands on “Pride and Prejudice” which appears to be a slightly modified version of what Peter knew as “First Impressions”. Although he had always loved reading, Peter wasn't really a big fan of classics, preferring science fiction or fantasy, compared to Uncle Ben who literally devoured everything he could get his hands on or Aunt May who was a huge fan of Jane Austen. So he decided to borrow the book to honor his late aunt.
Once out of the aisles to find Selina, near the computer section, Peter crosses paths with a preteen who seems immediately drawn to his presence. Embarrassed by the sudden attention, he tenses slightly but calms down when he notices that the young brunette seems more interested in his book than in him. “I'm not sure that Pride and Prejudice is a novel suitable for a kid your age, kiddo…” The voice sounds familiar to Peter, but he doesn't think much of it.
“Why not?” he asks, pouting. “And who are you anyway?”
The preteen stares at Peter for a moment, as if seeing him in a new light now. “I'm Jason,” he whispers the second part of his sentence. “It's just weird seeing my mom's favorite book in the arms of a five-year-old boy.”
“Five years!? I'll make you say I'm seven and a half, you moron!!!” Peter almost yells with obvious disdain in his voice.
“Seven years?” Jason wonders. “You can’t be more than 3.5 feet tall though…”
“3.5 feet!?? I hope, you-" but the rest of his sentence dies when the noise of the library intern's wheelchair is heard nearby.
“Jason Todd. Can I ask what you’re doing here instead of being in class?” she reprimands him, staring at Jason.
The preteen tries to defend himself pitifully; only Peter is too shocked by the name he just heard. Jason. Jason Todd!! The exact same surname as Bruce Wayne's last adopted child... It's too much for Peter, who takes advantage of the fact that the two seem too absorbed in their conversation about a certain ‘Scarecrow’ newly escaped from Arkham, to find Selina. Once he arrives at the computer section, he easily finds the young woman, who seems to have immediately noticed his pale expression. She questions him about his obvious discomfort, but Peter prefers to ignore her, pretending that he found the book he searched and that he wants to go home now. Selina stares at him for a long time before grabbing his book and bringing it to the librarian at the counter. The old man and Selina exchange a few words about a supervillain who escaped from Arkham Asylum, while Peter watches with difficulty as his book is handled by the old librarian over the counter, on tiptoe.
Once outside, Peter realizes that the clouds have thickened while they were inside and that a damp smell announces the approaching rain. He and Selina navigate silently through the streets towards the nearest subway entrance, while the young woman hastily grabs his hand as the sidewalks appear strangely deserted. The atmosphere in the city is heavier than usual and Selina walks oddly fast for Peter's short legs.
“Peter, do you have your gas mask on you?” The boy freezes as Selina questions him before he steps onto the subway to head back to Crime Alley.
“No... Why?” he asks her as she takes something out of her purse. Peter notices they are two gas masks, and doesn't understand why they would need them.
Seeing the panic growing in his eyes, Selina tenderly strokes his cheek before placing the mask over his face and clumsily strapping it behind his head. “Don't worry too much, kitten. This should be enough to keep anything from happening to you.”
She puts on her own mask, and Peter doesn't dare admit that his is too big, so worried is he that she won't tell him everything. They go down to take the subway, and once again he's struck by the few people there, but also by the other people who are also wearing gas masks. Probably a common thing here in Gotham. Except for these few details, everything goes as usual. Selina taps her foot as they wait for the subway, and Peter counts the number of seconds they wait on the platform, to avoid focusing on the things that worry him. Once the subway finally arrives, the cars stay closed for two seconds too long, which leaves Peter with a bad feeling, before Selina hurriedly takes him in her arms to pull them out of the underground. He doesn't immediately understand his gesture, but once a greenish smoke completely fills his field of vision and a sour smell slips into his ill-fitting mask, an almost irrational fear creeps into his veins.
Thrown off balance by this sudden, unfounded terror, Peter tightens his grip around Selina and closes his eyes. Once his eyelids are closed, it's almost as if he's in a waking nightmare. He hears the screams of the other passengers around him, but also discerns the labored breathing of Aunt May, bleeding in his arms. Shaken, he looks away, almost glad to have buried this horrible memory deep in his mind, only to find himself faced with a lifeless vision of Mr. Stark. Peter tries hard to calm his breathing, but his breath catches in his throat, feeling the asthma attack approaching and then vanishing without explanation. In the distance, Selina speaks to him, but Peter doesn't listen, too focused on his horrified vision of Mr. Stark's body vanishing to reveal his mother's corpse a few meters away. Grief flooded his chest as he tried to free himself from the invisible arms holding him back from his mother. Fueled by adrenaline, Peter found the strength to push away the arms holding him back before running, crying, to his mother's body.
He stands there for what seems like hours, mourning his mother, as the vision fades behind his tears. Once his mind becomes a little clearer than it was a minute ago, he notices he's kneeling on the ground with Selina holding him tightly against her. When the ringing in his ears finally calms down, and he no longer hears the endless echoes of all the people he's seen die, Peter is surprised by the cacophony of noise around him. Everything seems too loud, from the screams of the people around him to the police sirens above them, to Selina's heartbeat. Unsettled and still scared, Peter tries to focus on the sound of Selina's slightly ragged breathing, before noticing a tall, dark figure close behind them. Its footsteps are getting closer, and Peter can't help but tremble from head to toe, facing the deafening sound of its toe-capped boots slapping against the asphalt of the platform.
Noticing his distress, Selina tightens her grip on his frail body, but Peter, too panicked, instinctively pushes her away with a strength he no longer knew he possessed. Frozen with fear, he stares at his shaking hands and then at Selina's face filled with incomprehension. His breath escapes him for the umpteenth time and his vision blurs again, as if he were about to fall back into one of those horrible visions.
“Peter!” Selina’s and someone else’s voice echoes in his skull as he loses consciousness in strong arms he knows don’t belong to the young woman.