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In this line of work, you see all sorts of people, repeatedly, many times over in all sorts of different contexts. You see the same person in a hundred different lives, a hundred different roles, with a hundred different personalities. Miguel had personally met all manner of villains, some of whom were familiar, some of whom were strangers, and some of whom were other versions of himself.
But this latest anomaly was different, because this was a version of Kraven the Hunter he had never encountered. This one was smaller than Miguel, covered head-to-toe in white and orange armor, the usual barbarian inspiration only visible in the faintest ways; a lining of white fur around the neck, orange and brown war paint on the menacing helmet, the varied arsenal of weapons they switched between with easy grace. It was different, but not the end of the world, and Miguel was easily able to keep pace with them.
At least, he was. Until his lack of spidey senses bit him in the ass and let the Hunter get the drop on him, knocking him out of the sky with a well-placed shot of their net launcher, the constricting net wrapping around him and binding him tightly with a material clearly made to resist enhanced strength. He hit the ground hard, trapped like an insect in a web, and his brief moment of dazed disorientation allowed the Hunter to get close enough to pin him to the ground with a powerful gauntlet.
“You’re hard to pin down, little butterfly.” The Hunter’s voice was deep and heavily modulated, their gauntlet pressing hard on his chest, making escape impossible even for one as strong as Miguel.
“Butterflyman is actually on vacation.” he drawled, trying and failing to hide the strain in his voice, “I’m his much handsomer arachnoid stand-in, hope you’re not too disappointed.”
“Oh good, another funnyman.” the Hunter drawled, the effect somewhat dampened by the modulator, “Do continue to tell jokes while I figure out just who has been wasting my valuable time.” The Hunter reached down and managed to grip the seam of his mask, and despite Miguel’s hissing and struggling it was all too easy for them to tear it from his head, revealing his face to a villain who may or may not even know who Miguel O’Hara was. He flinched at the sudden shift from red light to sunlight, but bared his fangs regardless, waiting for a taunt, a monologue. Waiting for the killing blow as he growled his defiance.
But the killing blow never came.
Instead, the Hunter dropped their weapon like it had burned them, going still as a prey animal under his furious gaze.
“…Papá?” The Hunter’s modulated voice was small, and Miguel was slightly taken aback, narrowing his eyes. Surely he’d misheard.
“The fuck you just say?” he rasped, watching the Hunter for any sign of trickery, any sign that this was some weird ruse to throw him off.
“No, that’s… this is…” they shook their head rapidly, abruptly lurching away from him, as if he had suddenly become frightening to them, “No. No no no no no you’re dead. You’re dead!”
“Dead inside, maybe.” he deadpanned, and the Hunter gave a strangled little laugh, high and strained and anything but amused. Then, to Miguel’s surprise, they reached up and grasped their own helmet, tearing it off in one clumsy motion, and Miguel felt his heart physically stop in his chest at the face revealed to him; Long brown hair pulled back into a tight braid, dark eyes just like his, freckles and thick eyebrows and a dimpled chin, cheeks that should be round and appled with joy made gaunt with time and stress.
All at once, Miguel couldn’t breathe.
“…G…Gabby?” he didn’t recognize his own voice, a weak and quavering little thing as he looked upon the face of his daughter, aged and worn but still unmistakably a kid, unmistakably his kid, “Gabby, mi niñita…”
“You’re dead.” the Hunter- Gabby’s - lips trembled, the helmet falling from her shaking hands as she looked at Miguel like he was something impossible, something godly, “You’re dead! You died. You were murdered, and you… you left me all alone…”
“Gabriella.” he breathed, “Mija, no, I…”
“How are you here?” she whispered fiercely, tears streaming down her face, and Miguel wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and wipe away all of her pain, “Was it all a trick? How are you alive? How?”
“…Because… I’m not your father.” he said softly, gently, and that seemed to take her aback.
“What do you mean?” she demanded, “You’re Miguel O’Hara, aren’t you?”
“I am, but it’s… complicated.” he sighed, trying and failing to rein in the wild emotions tearing at his heart, “I’ll explain as best I can, but first could you uh…” He nodded to the netting still binding him, and she blinked in confusion before suddenly remembering he was still caught in her net.
“Oh! Oh god, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-“ she darted forward and tore the netting from him like it was nothing, much more familiar with it’s workings than Miguel was, babbling her apologies over and over again until Miguel got the sinking sense that it wasn’t just the netting she was apologizing for, “B-But in my defense, you’re running around in a weird suit, shooting neon webs out of your hands, flipping around like Cirque du Soleil, snarling like a maniac, and crawling on the ceiling like some freaky man-spider, I think I can be excused for-“
“Gabby.” he halted her rambling with a stern look, raising to his feet and putting his hands on his hips, “Before we go any further, would you care to explain to me why you’re running around as Kraven the Hunter?” To her credit, she didn’t flinch. In fact, her face softened, like Miguel’s paternal chiding was something wonderful, something she’d been deprived of and missed dearly.
“After you died, I went and found the man who did it.” she told him easily, “I hunted him down and I made him pay. Then I hunted the cops that took their sweet time responding, because they could have saved you if they hadn’t dragged their feet. Then I hunted the judge and the jury members that let the robber off on a goddamn technicality, letting your murderer go free. Then I just… just kept hunting bad guys. What else was I gonna do?” Miguel’s head began to spin, worsening the longer she talked, looking down at the face of his little girl so calm and at ease as she described her descent into villainy.
“You… You what..?” he swallowed thickly, trying to reconcile the memory of his sweet little girl with the cold killer before him, “You hunted… why?”
“I’m good at it.” Gabriella told him, her face hardening slightly as her eyes drifted to the side, recalling the memories, “The first time, I was barely thinking. All I could see was your body, and the pool of blood they just left you in. For what? A couple hundred dollars? My dad was killed for something so little. It was messy, I… went a little nuts, I’ll admit. I was acting like an animal, but I was just so… so angry.”
“Mija…”
“But it wasn’t enough. So I went and killed everyone who let injustice prevail.” she continued, her flinty gaze softening when she met his eyes, not seeming fazed by the sight of crimson where once there was warm brown, “I hunted them down and then I killed them. And it didn’t bring you back, of course it didn’t, but I was still angry. More than angry, I… I can’t describe those days. It was awful, papá, it was horrible, I… I had nothing. No one. No one…”
“Oh, Gabby.” Miguel’s heart clenched at the sight of his little girl in distress, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“It doesn’t matter now. You’re here, and I’m taking you home.” she said in a shaking voice, wiping her eyes forcefully, “I’m taking you home, papá.”
…What?
“…What are you talking about, mija?” Miguel said gently, “Baby, what do you mean?” She strode forward then, and he didn’t even think to step back as she reached out and took his arm, her grip careful but unyielding.
“I wasn’t strong enough to protect you before, but I am now!” she smiled up at him, her eyes misty but her smile bright, her face so hopeful and open it made his chest ache, “We can go home, both of us! And I’ll keep you safe, I’ll look after you, nothing will ever take you from me again, papá.” And for a moment… he wanted to. He wanted to so badly it physically hurt. He wanted nothing more than to take his daughter’s hand and promise never to leave her, to let her envelop them both in the beautiful fantasy she’d crafted in her head, one where she was allowed to have her father, where Miguel was allowed to be her father.
But he’d learned his lesson, and it had been the harshest lesson of his life. As much as it pained him, he knew what had to be done. This wasn’t his daughter, and he wasn’t her father. To pretend otherwise would result in nothing but pain.
“Mija…” he started gently, but she must have recognized the tone of his voice, because her face fell.
“What?” she questioned, her grip tightening, “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”
“Gabby… I can’t, baby.” he said as gently as he could, “I’m sorry, but remember what I said? I’m not your father. Your father is gone, just like my daughter is gone. And messing around with timelines and dimensions… it has consequences. Universe-ending consequences.”
“I… I don’t understand.” Gabriella shook her head, releasing his arm only to wrap her arms around his waist, hugging him tight enough to make breathing difficult, and despite everything, he hugged her back just as tight. She was so tall now, coming up to his chest, and he mourned for the little girl forced to grow up too fast, tucking her safely into his heart, right next to the one that never got to grow up.
“Your father is dead.” he said as kindly as he could, “I’m just a different version of him, from another dimension.”
“One where you survived the robbery?” she sniffled into his chest, and Miguel shook his head.
“One where I never even encountered it.” he said quietly, “It’s complicated, but I can’t go with you. I’m… not yours.”
“But you could be.” she said stubbornly, “What’s stopping you? Do you already have your own Gabriella? That’s fine, you can have two, you can both come home with me, we can be sisters!”
“Gabby.” Miguel sighed, “I don’t have a daughter anymore, but-“
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It’s hard, mija. I know.” he said gently, lifting a hand to stroke her hair as she buried her face in his chest, “But sometimes… sometimes we can’t have what we want.”
“Why not?” she demanded, sounding almost like the petulant little girl she used to be, “Why the hell not? What’s stopping us?”
“The multiverse is-“
“What about the multiverse?” she snapped, her voice hard in a way that took Miguel aback, “I don’t care about the multiverse! The multiverse doesn’t control me, I am through being a helpless child, I’m sick of not being able to keep and protect the people I love!”
“I understand.” Miguel tried to comfort her, scritching at her scalp in the way that always calmed his own daughter down, “Believe me, I understand. I lost my daughter because I got greedy, and that greed, that desire for something that wasn’t mine, it didn’t just kill my little girl. It killed an entire world.”
“…What are you talking about?” she seemed to have at least calmed a little, which likely meant her own father used the scalp scritching technique as well. Miguel took comfort in that, taking a deep breath to steel himself as he allowed the memories to resurface, clutching her a touch closer as he did so.
“I never had a family of my own.” he started softly, “Too busy with work, too bad at socializing, at… being a person. To make it worse, the substances I’d been experimenting with had rendered me sterile, so I couldn’t have a child even if I tried. I had nothing waiting for me, no one to come home to, just… an empty apartment I rarely used and a job that I was starting to lose passion for. So when I stumbled across the multiverse and saw just how many versions of myself had families, I was… shocked. And jealous. I can’t deny I was jealous. And then…”
“And then?” Gabby prompted, tilting her head to peek up at him.
“I found a dimension identical to mine, except that dimension’s Miguel had a wonderful daughter.” he said, “And that Miguel had also just died. Caught in the crossfires of some robbery, just like your father. It happens in a lot of universes.” Gabriella’s face twisted at that, something bitter flashing in her eyes, and Miguel hurried to soothe her anguish away.
“So… I decided to take his place.” he confessed, “I just slipped into his role and took on his life. Raised his baby girl while telling myself I had helped her, spared her the pain of losing a father, when really it was just because I was unhappy in my own life, and I wanted the life he’d had so badly it tore me up inside.”
“You did help her.” Gabriella protested, “You could have been doing it for both reasons, and they’re both equally true!”
“Ah mija.” he smiled a wan little smile, “Whatever the truth, it didn’t matter in the end. My meddling destabilized the entire dimension, my presence altered it in a way it wasn’t meant to. I was like a splinter, an infection in a wound, and the dimension did everything it could to push me out. And when that didn’t work, it died, and my daughter died with it, right in my arms.” Gabriella didn’t seem to have a response to his confession, choosing instead to simply hug him tighter. They stood in silence for a long while, just holding each other, reminiscing about the people they had lost. He couldn’t help but wonder if his own daughter would have grown to resemble this one, thin and pale with dark shadows under her eyes, or if she’d have retained her chub and her bright eyes, her endless shining optimism.
He steered himself away from that line of thinking. Dwelling on what-ifs had only ever succeeded in driving him mad.
“Do you understand now, mija?” he finally said, soft and patient in a way he hadn’t allowed for himself in years, “Some things just aren’t meant to be.” Gabriella was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Miguel hoped his words would hit home. She had always been such a smart girl, so clever and bright. He had no doubt she’d understand.
“…Fuck that.” is what she said instead, vicious in a way he’d never heard, and Miguel startled.
“Gabby?” he blinked as Gabriella propped her chin on his chest to stare up at him, eyes misty and lips turned into a dissatisfied scowl.
“I wish you had come to my universe instead.” she said tightly, “I wish you’d covered up my dad’s death. Disintegrating in your arms, never knowing my father had died, it sounds so much better than having to go identify his corpse. To sit and listen while relatives argue about whose gonna be stuck looking after me, all the while the news reports that the pendejo who killed my dad got off on a fucking technicality.”
“Gabby…” he stared down at her, grieved by the bitterness in her voice, “I’m sorry. But it’s impossible to live a life without loss. Sooner or later you would have lost your father anyway, be it another act of violence, sickness, or just old age. The child should always outlive the parent.”
“Well that wasn’t the case with me.” Her face fell then, going carefully blank, and once again his lack of spidey senses vexed him. She got the drop on him easily, moving with the speed of a hunter and clasping something hard and unyielding around his wrists before he had the chance to react.
“Gabriella!” He struggled uselessly against the complicated cuffs she’d stuck on him, shocked that she’d bind him like this, and she used the opportunity to fire another net at him, taking him to the ground with a shout as she stood over him with an expression both remorseful and resolute.
“I’m sorry, papá.” she said quietly, “But I can’t lose you again. I can’t let you leave me.”
“Gabriella Rosa Sofia O’Hara, stop this right now!” he extended his claws uselessly, baring his fangs to try and gnaw at the netting, all to no avail. If he’d hoped that displaying his more animalistic qualities would scare some sense into her, he was sorely mistaken. It was like he’d done nothing more unusual than put on a different hat.
“If the universe starts to destabilize, we’ll just find a way to fix it.” she said, kneeling beside him and pulling out something that looked worryingly like a sedative, “You’re brilliant and I’m powerful, I’m sure we could come up with a solution together. And if for some reason we don’t and we can’t stay in my universe, we’ll just find another one. One that will let us stay.”
“Gabrielita, no.” he beseeched her, allowing himself to be vulnerable, letting her see that he wasn’t strong or brilliant or anything like she imagined, not when it came to her, “You absolutely cannot do this. This isn’t a solution, mija, listen to me.”
But his pleas fell on deaf ears.
“It’s okay, papá.” she gave him a smile then, the same one she wore when she’d just won a soccer game, or received a wonderful present, “We’ll be a family again. We’ll look after each other, you’ll see. We’ll be so happy, just you wait.” She brought the sedative close, ignoring his protests, his useless struggling, and just as he felt the cold sting of the needle at his neck, there was a clattering sound behind her, and she immediately dropped the sedative to whip around with her gun primed, positioning herself protectively over Miguel as she bared her teeth in a way that made her look far too much like her father.
“I am in the middle of someth-“ Her sentence cut off midway as a small and familiar device was launched at her, latching onto her neck and delivering a swift dose of Miguel’s paralytic venom before she could react. She dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, only able to frantically dart her eyes around, and despite everything, Miguel had to fight down an instinctive cry at seeing his daughter in any kind of danger.
“Miguel!” A new voice called his name, panicked, frantic, and Miguel tore his eyes away from Gabriella as he realized who exactly had come to his rescue, recalling with a groan that only one man had access to that particular piece of experimental tech.
As if Miguel wasn’t humiliated enough.
Sure enough, Peter B. Parker alighted to the ground between Miguel and Gabriella, content to ignore the girl and her piercing furious glare as he hurried to Miguel’s side.
“Holy shit, Miguel.” Peter’s voice was shaky as he knelt beside him, starting to work on freeing him from the net, “Is that who I think it is?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” he grunted, holding still to let Peter work, slightly mollified when he seemed to have even more trouble with the material than he had.
“I uh, yeah, I get that.” Peter finally managed to work around the netting, pulling it away and gripping Miguel’s arms to help him to his feet, face darkening slightly at the bindings on his wrists, “What the hell is this? Who… Did she do this?” he asked incredulously.
“She wanted her father back.” Miguel said simply, letting Peter take his wrists and start carefully fiddling with the cuffs, “Even if it wasn’t her original father.” Guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, is what he didn’t say, but Peter seemed to read it in his face.
“Fuck, Miguel.” he let out a shaky breath, visible trying to smile but not quite managing it, and Miguel found his gaze drifting over his shoulder, inevitably drawn to the teenager lying paralyzed on the ground. Gabriella was looking pleadingly at him, tears streaming from her eyes, helplessly trapped in her own body, watching her desperate plans for a reunited family crumble to ash. It was enough to break Miguel’s heart, enough to tempt him to throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness, to swear to stay with her and keep her safe and happy, to never leave her again. But he didn’t. The venom would wear off any moment now, and she would be a danger to everyone once again.
Miguel couldn’t bear to stay here a moment longer.
“Get her back to her dimension.” he said stiffly as Peter finally broke the cuffs, allowing Miguel to move freely, “Make certain she can never leave it again.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter asked uncertainly, his face pulled into an expression of worry, and Miguel just wanted to fucking go home, “Miguel, I-“
“Just do what I said!” he snapped, and then reeled himself in, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just… get her home. Please.”
“…Alright.” Peter’s soft voice almost undid him, “Anything you need, Mimi.” And for some reason that stupid nickname nearly brought tears to his eyes. He blamed it on the emotional rollercoaster of the day.
He didn’t watch as Peter opened up a portal to Gabriella’s dimension, didn’t watch as she was placed into the portal with much more gentleness than Peter usually afforded anomalies. He kept his back stoically turned as she was returned to her own world, refusing to look into her eyes, feeling much safer and steadier avoiding her gaze, cowering even. He knew that if he looked, he would break, and he couldn’t afford that. He needed to be strong. He’d already fucked up enough for one day.
“Miguel…” Peter’s hand was warm on Miguel’s shoulder as the pulsing light of the portal closed with a finality he felt deep in his chest, “Come home with me for tonight. I know you probably want to hide away like a recluse, but-“
“Is that a pun, Parker?” he drawled, a desperate distraction to head off Peter’s earnest kindness, unsure if he could handle such care right now.
“A pun…?” his brow furrowed, and then he laughed a bright little laugh that felt out of place in the silence the portal had left, “Oh, I get it! Brown recluse spider, ha, that’s a good one, Mimi. See, I knew you could be funny.”
“I’m the funniest man I know.” Miguel deadpanned, and Peter chuckled.
“And to think I doubted Jess’ claims.” he sighed dramatically, but he couldn’t seem to hold onto his joviality, and his expression quickly fell back into that achingly soft concern, “Listen, Miguel-“
“We should head back.” Miguel turned away from him, lifting his bracer to start entering the return home code, “I need to debrief with Lyla, and write up a report about what happened here-“
“What you need is to stop and decompress.” Peter placed a hand over the bracer, ignoring the sharp look Miguel shot him, “You just experienced something painful, something emotionally damaging. Your past wounds just got ripped open and they’re bleeding out all over the place, I can see it in those pretty eyes of yours. Running away to hide in your dark lair, and I know that’s what you’re planning to do, is only going to make it worse.”
Was he really so easy to read?
“And what would you suggest I do?” he scowled, making an effort to keep his voice even, to not take out all his anger on Peter like he might have done in the past, “Fall to my knees and weep? Break apart sobbing and lamenting my tragic past? Would that help anything? Would that make you feel like you’ve helped, like I’ve properly mourned?”
“I’m not suggesting you do any of that-“
“Then what, Peter?”
“Just… let me take you home.” he said gently, releasing his shoulder to raise his hand to his face, brushing it through his hair so gently Miguel could have shattered right then and there, “I’ll get us takeout and you can hold Mayday for as long as you want. She loves you, asks for her ‘Mimi’ all the time. You’re her favorite, you know?”
“…Uh huh, sure.” Miguel forced himself to breath, focusing on the feel of Peter’s hand in his hair, his warm brown eyes, the crinkle of his smile. It was easier than thinking about what had just occurred, less painful than remembering Gabriella’s-no, the Hunter’s-betrayed grief-stricken eyes, “If you say so.”
“I know so.” he insisted, “Did you know that sometimes I have to play recordings of you just to calm her down?”
“I’m sorry, you what?”
“Like I said, she loves you!” Peter grinned, “When she’s in her ‘I Demand Uncle Miguel’ mode and I can’t bring her to HQ, those recordings are the only way to calm her down, honest. You should see the way she giggles, and how she grabs at the display like she can pull you out of it, it’s the cutest damn thing-“
“Why the fuck do you have recordings of me?” Miguel raised an eyebrow, and Peter flushed.
“For… Mayday?” Peter gave a sheepish grin, shrinking under Miguel’s unimpressed stare.
“Uh huh.” he said with exaggerated casualness, “And before you figured out they allegedly calmed her down, you just happened to have them on hand?”
“Look, I never claimed to be a saint-“
“Were you a stalker with MJ too?”
“No, I… Okay, maybe a little, but she didn’t mind, honest!” Peter defended, throwing his arm around Miguel’s shoulders and trying desperately to act casual, “Look, sometimes a photographer needs practice, and sometimes said photographer gets that practice by sneaking photos of the pretty redhead next door, or the grumpy Adonis who happens to be his boss…” Miguel let Peter’s voice wash over him, focusing on him and his words instead of the empty space Ga- the Hunter had left behind. It would hit him hard later, he knew that, and it would be inescapable anguish that might last days. He’d isolate himself from everyone else and add further fuel to the ridiculous rumors that he was more spider than man, worrying his friends and frustrating Lyla, driving himself into a depressive hole deeper than the Marianas Trench.
But then he’d get over it, and he’d be back to work like nothing had happened, and Peter would stick to him like webbing and mother hen him like he was getting paid for it, and life would move on.
Life would move on.