I don't own anything except any original character and/or any original plot.

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Chapter Twenty-Six: Baby Monitor Protocol

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An hour and a half had passed.

My exhaustion was through the roof. I could tell Peter was the same way. Harry was harder to tell because of his mask. But he had run out of bombs thirty minutes before and resorted to flying high and swooping down. Similarly, according to Misty and her constant communication with Karen, Peter was almost out of webs.

We should have finished the fight twenty minutes after the Starbucks explosion, but we were failing as heroes. The reason? Harry was our friend.

I was always against the idea that love made you weak. More than once, it was my loved ones that allowed me to be a good hero. But god, it felt impossible to hurt someone I loved so much. Someone who had so much good in them, who was just lost. And for that, Peter and I were paying the price.

"We need to end this," I mumbled, knowing Peter would hear it through the com, "I'm going to bloodbend him like I should have an hour ago. We'll take him straight to Xavier's and wait for Jean or the Professor if we have to. Ready?"

"Ready."

"Three... two..."

Thud!

"One?"

Harry's body laid limp on the ground. Cautiously approaching, we pulled off his mask. Breathing. Pale, sweaty, but breathing.

I apologize for my tardiness, but Jean was having trouble getting through to me. Kurt should be arriving soon to take you to the school.

Bamph

"Oh, this looks awful," Kurt mused, observing the glass formed from the heat of the explosions that'd been set off, "Let's get you to the school."

Each of us put a hand on Kurt's shoulders, while he held onto Harry. We teleported away from the battle site, all of our hard work amounting to nothing with a simple thought from the Professor's mind.

Upon arriving at the school, we were crowded by kids. All of them screamed our names, or rather, they screamed "Mr. Parker, Miss. (Y/n)!" They remembered us. Even aged back, we still looked like their old teachers. The teachers all of them loved and related to more than any others, because we were them.

"Hi!" We greeted out former students with as much cheer as our tired bodies could muster. The age similarity between us all was strange, especially with the oldest kids, but that didn't change the foundations of our relationship with them.

A gentle hand landed on my shoulder, "(Y/n)." It was Jean, just as tired as we were, still in uniform, "Come on."

Up the stairs, and through the school. When walking through the hall, I paused when a tiny hand wrapped around my wrist. Despite her unassuming stature, my heart stopped when I saw Mina staring up at me with her classic wide eyes. She'd been the sweetest little girl when we were teaching, but I would never forget her prophecy. I looked at her and saw Tony, the man who deserved to live more than any of the people he brought back, dying for us all.

"Mina?" I breathed out.

"The battle will be won and the mind shall heal. Your journey shall not end nor will you tire. Bells and songs shall ring true. Forever mortal, never forgotten."

With that, she moved on, and I rushed to catch up with Peter and Jean to go down to the X-Men base. There, Jean, who'd been carrying Harry using her telekinesis, laid him down on the table in the medical room. Once he was settled, Jean sighed, running a hand through her mussed hair.

"I'm sorry. It seems like every time you need us, we aren't there. We say that you'll be fine on your own, but the X-Men work as a team. It's hypocritical. We should be there for you, no matter what."

"It's okay, Jean."

"No, it's not. But that's why I'm here now, to show you that you can count on us. So what's wrong with your friend?"

"His dad died while fighting against me. Harry blames me for it."

"We think there's probably some underlying problems, too. Schizophrenia or psychosis most likely," I added, thinking of all the times Harry had seen his father since he'd been buried.

Placing a hand on either side of his head, Jean hummed in concentration. When she seemed to find what she was looking for, she spoke again.

"Mental illnesses are focused more on brain structure and chemical compounds than the actual thought process. Because of that, I can't do much. However, I can mess around with his perception of what happened. It's much less dangerous than locking away his memories. If anything, this is the safest way to do things. Locking away his memories would be too much of a risk."

"What do you need?"

"Do you have any footage of what happened? Some context would be nice before I mess around with what he thinks he's seen."

"I had cameras in my suit, but Norman tore off my mask... Karen, what do you mean the cameras aren't in the mask? What do you mean there's footage of what actually happened? The Baby Monitor Protocol is a priority function? You- you never showed me because I never asked?" Peter was silent for a few seconds, "You're definitely one of Tony's AI's."

From the spider of Peter's suit came a projection of what actually happened the night that Norman Osborn died. It was brutal, even if I couldn't see Peter I knew he was severely injured by his breathing. When Peter jumped over the hoverboard, I winced and turned away. Peter had to bear witness to Norman's death, I didn't want to do the same.

"Good. Just give me a minute," Jean placed a hand on either side of Harry's head, eyes closing in concentration as she did her work.

"Please work," I whispered, refusing to acknowledge what we'd have to do if it didn't, what we'd have to do to contain Harry and make sure he never harmed anyone again- what he'd have to do in order to pay for what he did, and what he'd continue to want to do.

After a few egregiously painful minutes, Jean stepped back and Harry opened his eyes. Both Peter and I jumped to assume defensive positions. He didn't move. He blinked blearily, his eyes taking time to focus and adjust to the light.

"I'm sorry," he whispered when he finally focused in on us, breaking down.

Rushing to his side, Peter and I were quick to comfort him. He repeated his apologies until Peter and I forced him into a group hug. It was nice to hear him say he was sorry, to hear that he felt guilty. It meant there was hope, something to go off of for future progress.

"You tried to kill us," I mumbled bluntly, in shock and finally able to process the day's events.

"I know. I was angry about a man who never even said he loved me. But he died because of his own choices, and I almost went down the same path. I've tried so hard to not be the man my father was, and that's exactly what I became."

I sent Jean an impressed look. She was good- something I always knew. First removing Thanos from my head, then the anger from Harry's

"It wasn't just his or your choices that led to this, Harry. You know that, right?"

Nodding absently, Harry sighed, "I'll start seeing someone, get medication, anything to help... can you do something for me, Pete? As a hero?"

"Of course."

"Can you try to forgive me?"

There, in my old home base, we pulled Harry into another hug. Jean was in the corner, the other X-Men were likely waiting outside, and our friends and family were texting- but it was okay. Because we did more than save the day, we proved to ourselves that everything would be okay.

One Month Later

"Do you know how weird it is to see my speeches on the news? Not Riptide, but (Y/n) (L/n). It's great that Congress is finally doing something about mutant's rights, but it's still weird that I'm the main reason for it."

Everyone at the table agreed quietly. Motioning to the hanging TV at the bar across from us, MJ commented, "You're like the Greta Thunberg of mutant rights. Iconic. Social change is one of my favorite things."

Chuckling, I sighed. Ned turned to Peter, "How do you like freelancing?"

"It's nice. People really like the shots I can get," Peter had taken to using his photography skills for his own online store. One that had become outrageously popular in recent months as word got around about it. Peter tweeting about it on his "Official Spider-Man Page" helped as well.

"What about you two? How are your jobs going?"

"Buzzfeed is awesome!" Ned beamed, bursting to talk about his paid internship, "Everyone is super cool, and since I'm only writing and programming for them, it'll work around our school hours when it starts again. Peter, (Y/n), you have to do a video with them."

Peter and I shared a look but knew Ned wouldn't drop it. It'd put a popular news outlet on our side and would be good for our general popular image. Something that had been very positive in recent months, thanks to a lot of good work on our part.

"Sure," we answered hesitantly. Immediately, Ned pulled out his phone and began rapidly texting someone. We'd probably do the video within the next week.

"What about you, MJ?"

"The station is fine. They're thinking of transferring me to the Nine-Nine to intern under the detectives there. It's a weird precinct, but I'd do well there all things considered. Detective Diaz is cool."

"Sorry I'm late, guys. My appointment ran long and traffic sucked."

It didn't take a lot of convincing to get Harry into both therapy and on the proper medications after he turned into the Hobgoblin and Jean fixed his mind. He was aware of the changes he had to make and wasn't afraid to make them. All of us were eager to put his darkest days behind us and move on to a new chapter where we could be a group with normal problems- like fighting over whose house to meet up at, though we often chose Harry's due to the space.

It was nice, having some simplicity in our lives after Harry's mental state stabilized. There were no friends trying to kill us, no crazy villains who knew way too much about our fears, and no world-threatening events. That didn't mean such a thing would never happen again, but at least for a short time, we could enjoy our lives as teenagers with some extra powers, and a side job.

"No big deal, Har, we pulled over a seat for you. We got some appetizers, too."

"Traitors," Harry accused jokingly, settling in his chair, "You guys ready for school in two weeks? It's our senior year!"

All of us simultaneously groaned at the thought. Handling random fans was hard enough, I couldn't imagine being surrounded by them all the time. I wondered if we could just drop out and go back to teaching at Xavier's like we did after the initial snap. It would be a lot easier than going through another year of school.

"I feel like we've been in highschool for ten years."

Ping. A text from Wade.

Actually, you've been in highschool for a total of forty-nine chapters, not counting prologues, epilogues, or when you were older.

Another text.

Thank the author because it was a lot of work figuring this out. 

Rolling my eyes, I tuned back into the conversation as it swayed towards college. I'd blocked Wade's number twice before accepting my fate and letting him bug me when he wanted to break the fourth wall.

Screams erupted from the street. From those screams came a speeding van, guns pointed and shooting at the cop cars chasing after it. A robbery of some sort most likely. Just as the situation sunk in, the waiter approached with a tray full of the appetizers we ordered. They were steaming and smelled delicious.

"Save us some?" Peter asked as we stood, both of our suits enveloping our bodies.

"No promises," our three closest friends smiled mischievously.

Shaking my head, I turned to Peter, "Let's get this over with quickly, Bug-Boy."

"I couldn't agree more, Blue."