Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter Parker didn’t need a mentor in his life. 

Not anymore. 

He told himself this frequently and he almost believed it. 

He was his own man now. Losing Mr. Stark had set him on that path, and then………his mind fogged with pain when he tried to think about it…that other loss… But it had sealed his fate and thrown him into the deep end of adulthood – ready or not. 

And without anyone else to lean on, the deep end was very, very deep. 

It was weirdly comforting to know that the other Peters were out there…living their own lives…facing their own struggles. They were two guys who understood him on a level that nobody else ever could. But that comfort was mingled with a sense of profound isolation. 

They were literally universes apart. 

Somehow, even alone, It had been surprisingly easy to piece together some semblance of a life.

After a few intensely anxious days of investigation, he was able to ascertain that the identity of Peter Parker did still exist on paper, and that Spider-Man’s recently deceased publicist/philanthropist had left her estate to that distant nephew. Peter enlisted the help of his Aunt’s lawyer, Mr. Murdock, in order to claim his inheritance and apply for legal emancipation. While the blind lawyer naturally had no memory of meeting Peter, he seemed a genuinely good guy and was happy to help a relative of his old friend. He’d even agreed to co-sign the lease to Peter's new apartment, at least until Peter was old enough to take full legal responsibility. 

Oh, and he was Daredevil.

Peter had strongly suspected something was up with Murdock. He didn’t know many blind people, but he was pretty darn sure superhuman reflexes didn’t come standard issue with that particular condition, so he’d shadowed the lawyer a few times between their business-related meetings and, sure enough: champion of the legally downtrodden by day, champion of the literally downtrodden by night. Matt Murdock and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen were the same guy. 

Since learning of Daredevil’s identity, Peter made a point of dropping by the Kitchen a few times a week to check in on the masked vigilante and even, occasionally, team up. The Devil had initially been somewhat resistant to the idea of working with him (Peter wasn’t sure if it was Spider-Man’s notoriety or the fact he was pretty sure Mr. Murdock could tell he was a teenager), but they had eventually developed a mutual respect and unwritten rules for working together.

They had learned about one another’s abilities as well.

Spider-Man was orders of magnitude stronger than Daredevil and could heal much faster than the vigilante, who was practically human in that regard. The Devil claimed he could use some kind of ninja meditation technique to speed healing up a little, and Peter thought that was probably BS. But Daredevil did have sharper reflexes and better enhanced senses than Spider-Man, and he’d trained extensively in a variety of martial arts so that he could take full advantage of those enhanced senses and reflexes, making him an exquisitely dangerous fighter and making Spider-Man look downright clumsy by comparison. 

He’d offered to train Spidey to fight, but Peter had refused, at least for now.

As he told himself frequently– he didn’t need a mentor in his life. 

Peter Parker didn’t need a mentor in his life.

The teenager hadn’t quite said it to Matt out loud, but everything about the young man’s guarded attitude practically screamed it.

The kid had suffered loss -a lot more of it than he was willing to talk about- and he was trying to come to terms with it and make a way for himself in the world. On his own. 

Matt wanted to help, but, being acutely familiar with the experience and mindset of orphaned-teenager-reaching-for-independence, understood that attempting to bring Peter under his wing would almost certainly result in the kid pulling up stakes and getting his legal and practical advice elsewhere. It would be a shame, both because he felt bad about not being there to help May Parker, and because Peter seemed like a genuinely good kid who was just trying to put the pieces of his life back together. 

Oh, and he was Spider-Man.

Not long after the kid had shown up at the office for legal assistance he noticed that he was being followed on his walk home by somebody moving quietly across adjacent rooftops. He’d resigned himself to yet another battle with Hand ninjas when a closer inspection revealed that his stalker was none other than Peter Parker. Matt was so shocked he almost gave himself away. Almost. 

Eventually, after due consideration, he decided to let Spider-Man ‘discover’ that he was Daredevil. He’d researched the web-crawler’s history and affiliations, learning that the young superhero had been recruited and mentored by Stark and was considered by some to be a member of the Avengers before falling from grace in some international terrorism debacle. If he ever got to know the kid, he’d have to ask him about that– carefully. But as far as anybody knew, at the moment Spider-Man was operating alone once again, and in New York. With both his superhero mentor and only parental figure recently deceased, the young man could certainly benefit from whatever support he was willing to accept, in or out of costume. Matt figured the web-crawler side of Peter Parker couldn’t resist the temptation of a superhero team-up, and he’d been right. It was…concerning… to go around beating up petty criminals with a teenager, but the kid had taken on far more dangerous opponents with far less backup, and, if anything, they quickly learned that Matt was the more vulnerable of the two. 

He was concerned at Spidey’s lack of technical fighting expertise. He hadn’t gotten an origin story out of the kid just yet, but ‘trained by ninjas’ was definitely not part of it.  

He offered to teach Peter some techniques but wasn’t surprised when the answer was, “No thanks, Mr. D. I appreciate the offer but…things to do, places to be.” 

Daredevil nodded. Matt understood.

Peter Parker didn’t need a mentor in his life.

Not now.

Chapter Text

Spider-Man and Daredevil swung through the dimly lit streets of Hell's Kitchen, tonight in hot pursuit of a car-jacker. 

Spidey had checked on the victim– he was shaken but unhurt– while Daredevil had continued after the car, which was still careening violently a few blocks away. Whatever substance the car-jacker was on, it did not lend itself to precision driving. 

Spidey caught up just in time to hear Daredevil swear under his breath, “He hit someone.” The vigilante growled. 

They rounded the corner to see the stolen station-wagon stopped in the road, a woman sprawled several meters in front of it on the ground, and a thin man staggering out of the vehicle toward the purse that had been thrown from the woman in the collision. 

“Check on the woman,” Daredevil told him, “Try to keep her from moving. I’ll take care of him.” The anger in the Devil’s voice was not well masked. He often asked Spidey to interact with those they helped. He claimed it was because Spider-Man’s image was friendly and reassuring, while his was designed to be intimidating. Peter suspected it was partly because he was satisfying the urge to enact judgment on the perpetrators. The man had willingly accepted the title of “Devil” after all. 

“Ma’am?” Peter asked, after landing lightly beside the victim. She looked almost familiar –  middle aged, medium-length brown hair. His vision fuzzed a bit at the sides. 

Behind him he heard Daredevil *thump* down onto the pavement. The man could land as silently as a feather. But he didn’t always want to. 

“Ma’am?” Peter repeated, “Are you ok?” The Karen AI in his Stark suit could have given him an immediate analysis of the woman’s status and prognosis. His own eyes were as useless as Matt’s by comparison. She could be dead, she could be fine, she could be a store mannequin, for all he was able to tell at a glance. 

He hated this part of the job. 

Behind him he heard Daredevil put the junkie out of commission with a few short, brutal blows. He was careful never to kill, and often reminded Peter of that fact. But he was very good at damage. 

Peter crouched beside the woman, touching her shoulder lightly. Unexpectedly, she rolled over– right into his arms. “Oh. Careful, ma’am. Try not to move. Ok?” His voice cracked a little, “Help is on the way.” She wore glasses and tasteful makeup and looked vaguely pretty. 

She didn’t look like May. 

She also didn’t not look like May. 

He felt his vision start to tunnel.

“I need an ambulance right away.” He heard Daredevil saying. The vigilante always kept a burner or two on him for calls like this. “Female pedestrian, hit by a car. She has internal injuries. Get an ambulance here, now.” The dispatcher asked for a precise location, and Daredevil must have turned to Peter. “Spidey, the house numbers.” When Peter didn’t reply, he tried again, “The number plate above the door to that apartment– what does it say?” He asked urgently. 

Peter couldn’t take his eyes off the flowing brown hair streaked slightly with gray, streaked more with blood...

Daredevil gave the dispatcher some street names and tossed the burner on the ground.

Soft brown eyes stared up at Peter’s masked face, wandering in confusion. “You’re that…superhero…?” she asked, voice breathy. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said, “I’m Spider-Man. You’re going to be ok, just stay still, alright?” 

Her brows furrowed slightly, eyes unfocused, “Yeah…I don’t feel…right. I…need some rest…”

Peter’s vision tunneled to a pinprick. 

It was May. He knew it wasn’t. But it was. To him– it was. His muscles tightened, his breathing accelerated to an unsustainable pace. 

NOT AGAIN. 

A distant part of him heard the cautious voice of Daredevil. “Spidey…?” 

He crouched over May. She had been alright. She had been up and talking to him. And then she wasn’t. Then she was on the ground.  She needed to rest. To rest organs that had been destroyed. There was no coming back from that rest. She couldn’t leave him. She was everything. She couldn’t leave him… again. 

“Peter.” A low voice said, and a hand touched his shoulder.

“NO!”  Peter screamed, and punched out at the source of that touch with all of his considerable might.

With the resounding *crack* of breaking armor plates, Daredevil was thrown back, slamming into the side of the stolen car, which skidded several feet back upon impact.

Peter’s head shot around, this new horror breaking him out of the prison of panic. 

His partner in crime-fighting lay unmoving, partly enfolded in the crumpled car-door, blood running out from under his mask. 

And now I’ve killed Daredevil.

Chapter Text

Matt Murdock was pretty sure his heart actually stopped for a few seconds. 

He wished it was his first time experiencing that sensation. 

It started back up again like a grumpy old car motor, and it took him several more seconds to determine that his ribcage, though fractured in multiple places, had done a decent enough job keeping the organ intact. 

He wheezed out a groan – one that quickly turned into an agonized cough. The lungs now had to contend with some differently-located ribs. God, tell me there’s not another needle aspiration in my future…

“Mr. Murdock!” He somehow heard from nearby. His helmet had performed admirably under the circumstances, but his bell had been well and truly rung, and he was having a hard time focusing on the teenager and the woman. “You’re…”

“I’m alright,” he somehow managed to utter. It was both a brazen lie and not nearly as convincing as he’d hoped, since it ended in another cough. 

“But you’re…” the boy’s voice was tremulous. Matt needed to get this situation under control – quickly.

“Put her down very–” *cough* “-carefully, and come over here.”

“But…” 

“She will be alright.” He couldn’t stop himself from pausing to cough again. She’ll be better off than me… “I need you to trust me.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Peter gingerly put the woman back on the pavement and Matt could vaguely sense him approaching. 

“Mr. Murdock, I’m SO sorry…” the boy said, voice strangled. Using real names…?  By unspoken agreement, they’d never actually acknowledged that each knew the other’s out-of-costume identities. Well, he’d breached that first, moments ago. 

“I didn’t mean– I thought– I just–” The teen crouched, hovering, just in front of Matt, having transitioned from a frozen panic to sputtering horror, “I didn’t– I didn’t know. I’m so–” 

“Focus.” Matt ground out, and Peter paused. “Close your eyes, deep…breaths, listen.”  He wasn’t entirely sure the youth was doing as instructed, but he continued. “She will be ok. The internal injuries aren’t…critical yet. The ambulance will…make it in time.” It took all of his concentration to force coherent sentences out of his battered chest. “Understand?”

He thought Peter responded, but he couldn’t be sure. “Say it.”

“I understand.” The voice sounded breathless and tense.

“Now…” he continued, “I need your help… getting out of this car.”

“Right!” The youth surged forward.

“Wait.” It came out as a pained bark and Spidey stopped almost as though he’d been slapped.

“Carefully… ok?”

“Yeah. Ok.” 

“Shoulders are trapped…and one has some car-door…stuck in it.” He only realized it as he said it. That arm would be out of commission for a while. “Get some cloth to tie it off before moving the car.”

He immediately heard some rustling and a few ripping sounds from nearby as Spidey presumably found something suitable inside the car itself. 

“Ok, pull the sides of the car apart and help me get my shoulder free.” 

“Ok Mr. Murdock. One, two, three.”

Matt nearly screamed as the kid, with barely any effort, pushed the bent pieces of car back out again. For a horrible moment His entire weight pulled down on the impaled shoulder and his consciousness threatened to wink out of existence. 

When he became aware again, he found he’d been propped up against the station-wagon’s wheel-well and Spider-Man was tying strips of gym-towel around his mangled shoulder. 

A particularly sharp yank elicited an involuntary groan from him, and he felt Spider-Man freeze. “I’m sorry…” the young man said again, almost pleading.

Matt swallowed hard. “No… tight is good.”

Something caught his attention. Either his senses were beginning to work again, or they were both screwed. “Sirens…” he wheezed out, “close. We need to go.” He made no move to rise- he couldn’t- but it only took the spiderling a split second to realize what he meant.

“Ok, I’ve got you.” Peter’s voice was still unsure as he reached for Matt. 

“Wait.” Spider-Man flinched back, but Matt was just pawing at a snap-pocket with a hand that wouldn’t obey him.

“Can I?” The youth asked, and Matt grunted an affirmative. 

Spider-Man withdrew another phone from the pocket. To Matt’s relief, it didn’t sound broken. Peter proffered it, but Matt pushed it away. “Once we’re clear…call Claire.” He said slowly, trying to avoid having to repeat himself.

“Claire.” The young vigilante repeated. “Ok, is she your…”

“She’ll help.” Matt said, by way of explanation. The sirens would be audible to regular ears by now. “Let’s go.”

“Ok.” Spider-Man reached for him. “I'm sorry.”

Matt resolved not to scream. He failed.

After the gut-wrenching scream the red-clad vigilante went still and Peter managed to thwip them up to a rooftop a couple of blocks away, hoping that that fit Daredevil's estimation of ‘clear.’

He set Matt down as gently as he could and then took out the phone. “Claire” was one of only a handful of numbers logged on in the archaic device’s address book. He dialed.

The woman on the other end picked up almost immediately. She sounded annoyed in a familiar way; annoyance covering worry. “Matt? What is it this time?” She asked.

“I’m sorry ma’am. I’m not Matt. I’m his…associate.”

“All right Matt’s associate, can I assume he’s in some kind of trouble?”

“Yes ma’am,” He said, miserably, “He’s hurt pretty badly. Passed out now.”

There was a mumble on the other end of the line that sounded like a curse in Spanish. “Alright, is he stable? Were you able to–-”

“Yes ma’am. His shoulder was bleeding and I wrapped it up tightly. The other injuries are internal…I think.”

“Hm.” She acknowledged, “Can you bring him to me or do I need to arrange a pickup?” She asked. 

“I can bring him, um…if you’re in the city.”

“Of course.” She rattled off an address and he had to fumble for his smartphone to type it in and orient himself. “Third floor fire escape. My window has green curtains.”

“Ok,” The location was surprisingly close. “We’ll be there in three minutes.”

“Ok.” The phone clicked off. Peter stowed it back in Daredevil’s pocket. 

“Let’s go.” He muttered. Then he lifted his unconscious ‘associate’ over his shoulder and webbed away. 

Chapter Text

It took maybe two minutes to get to Claire's apartment, but the fire escape was tricky to negotiate with his unconscious burden, so his time estimate ended up being accurate enough. 

Not wanting to alert any neighbors, he carefully pushed his way through the window, cradling Daredevil to his chest so as not to bump him against the window frame. 

The woman inside was a tall Latina who took in his costume and companion in a single glance and one raised eyebrow before gesturing to the couch, which she had somehow already layered with an impressive collection of old towels and blankets. 

As Peter gently deposited the unconscious Daredevil on the couch, she pulled out a professional-looking medical bag. 

“Spider-Man, is it? This time?”

This time??? He knew better than to ask out loud.

“Yes, ma’am, um…are you a doctor?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Nurse,” she said as she got to work, removing mask and armor. “Not that your type has much respect for the difference.”

Peter stared at Daredevil’s exposed face, eyes going wide under the mask. He knew that Daredevil was Matt Murdock- had known for months now- but somehow he was totally unprepared to actually see him as Daredevil. Matt Murdock was tidy and cautious, polite but surprisingly warm. He’d never really managed to square that with Daredevil’s menace and brutality. He hadn’t needed to. 

But it was now Matt Murdock laying on this stranger’s couch, blood-soaked hair hanging limply across the familiar, friendly features. 

It was so wrong… and it was so entirely his fault. 

He backed toward the window.

“Claire…” the quiet voice surprised them both. 

She briefly cupped Murdock's cheek with her hand. “Welcome back to the land of the living. You salient enough to give me a report?” 

Sightless eyes opened and then rolled aimlessly, almost as if to indicate processing. 

“In order of urgency, if you don’t mind.”

Matt let out a soft groan, but, to Peter’s surprise, began speaking quietly.

“Deep puncture wound – right shoulder.”

Peter reached the window frame. Neither of the other two seemed to have noticed. 

“Broken ribs…4…no...5.”

“Which side?”

“Half and half.”

Claire made an unhappy sound. “Internal bleeding?” 

“A lot…” He paused and seemed to struggle to concentrate. “But…I don’t think anything too critical is ruptured." 

Claire grunted. “And?”

Peter slipped out the window onto the fire escape and put his back to the wall. 

“And concussion…” Matt said.

“Of course.” She paused. “Your ‘associate’ left.” Clair noted.

“It’s ok. He had a really bad day.”

“He’s not injured, is he?” There was a careful urgency to the way she said it that made Peter feel worse.

“No…not like that, anyway.” 

Peter gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, then sighted along his wrist– preparing to swing away from the consequences of his actions.

But the conversation continued and he just…couldn’t help pausing to listen. 

“So what happened this time…?” She sounded rueful, like she almost didn’t want to know. “Was it ninjas again?” 

There was no answer.

“I have a hard time believing street-level thugs did this much damage.”

There was a grunt.

“So…?”

“It was the kid…” Matt’s voice was reluctant

“Who, Spider-Man?” She sounded disbelieving. “There’s no way…I thought he was–”

“Yeah, he’s a friend. It was an accident."

“Some accident…”

“Remember that time you found me passed out and then I came to and took a swing at you?” 

“Not something I’m likely to forget any time soon…”

“Well imagine that, but I'm ten times stronger and I don’t miss.”

“Ooof.”

“Yeah,” somehow there was a bit of a chuckle in his voice, but then it turned rueful. “I think he was reliving something. Maybe he was there when his parents died? Maybe his aunt? Not something he’d ever talk to me about, I’m sure.”

His sigh turned into a wheeze and then a groan.

“Easy,” Claire murmured, as the sound of rustling indicated continued ministrations, “Almost done.”

Matt continued quietly. “I don’t know what to do with him. He doesn’t want the help. I remember being the angsty orphan with everything to prove. I didn’t have anybody and I didn’t need anybody. The last thing I wanted was another mentor after Stick… after he left. But looking back– I sure could have used somebody in my corner…”

“Oh Matt,” the affection was evident in her voice, along with the reproof, “you never fail to take everyone’s burdens on your own shoulders– even when one of those shoulders is mangled.” 

He laugh-groaned at that.

“You are in his corner, and he knows it, alright? Give him some time and some space. He may not feel like he needs the guidance, but he knows you’re there for him– as a friend.”

A grunt was Murdock’s only audible answer.

“How are the senses?” She switched gears.

“Not great.”

“Unfortunately, I need you to stay awake.”

“Concussion, yeah, I know the drill.” 

“Want me to put on a movie?”

“Mmmm, focusing might make me queasy. Pretty sure if I vomit right now I will actually die.” 

She laughed, “I’d give you 50/50 on that.”

“Not worth it. How about some classical music?” 

“I said ‘awake’.”

“Fine.”

“There’s probably a true-crime marathon on somewhere…”

“Please, God, no…”

Claire laughed and Murdock complained and Peter, finally satisfied at last that he had not, in fact, killed his new mentor, fired off a web and swung away.

In the apartment Claire heard a creak from the open window to her fire escape.

“What was that?” She turned sharply, always ready for a horrifying surprise with these superhero types.

“The kid– he was leaving.” Matt mimed Spider-Man’s web shooting motion with his good arm. 

“He was still outside?” Claire was slightly aghast. 

Matt nodded fractionally. “Listening.” He confirmed.

“Come on, Matt…”

“He needed to hear some of that. I thought he might be more likely to trust something overheard.” He paused.  “I would…” 

Claire shook her head, marveling at Matt’s presence of mind, even when his brains had been scrambled. 

“He sounded like a teenager…” she said, instead.

“Yeah…” 

“But Spider-Man’s been active for a couple years. Worked for…”

“Stark.” 

“Ah…” Yeah, that explained a lot. 

She shook her head and gave him a pat on the good shoulder. “So you really are Spider-Man’s new mentor, is that it?” 

“No–” Matt was quick to object, “He doesn’t need…”

Claire thought he would have missed her skeptical glare, but he still paused.

“Well…" He considered. "...maybe.”