The spell was supposed to make everyone forget. It worked. What no one accounted for - not Strange, not Peter, not the fractured magic itself - was the dimensional resonance that had been pulling him toward Gotham since before he had language for any of it. Peter Parker arrives in Crime Alley on a wrong-rain night with nothing: no memories in anyone else's mind, no name in anyone's mouth, no universe willing to claim him. The Batman appears at the end of the alley and runs a DNA scan and the results come back and Bruce Wayne takes off his cowl. Peter Thomas Wayne. Missing from this house for twenty-six years. This is a story about what happens after that. About a family that has been broken and rebuilt so many times it has gotten very good at both. About a father who spent twenty-three years looking. About a city that names its own. About what it means to be a ghost in your own life - and what it means to finally stop being one. It has a happy ending. It earns it slowly. Come anyway. writen with help of AI
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