Chapter Text
He couldn't sleep, so he swung listlessly through the city, half-heartedly taking down a handful of petty thugs. He needed to clear his head.
She had died that night. Yet she would not leave his mind.
He never got to tell her. Things that mattered. He had let his anger get the better of him. So many times he wanted to draw her close, accept her apology - accept her - and be her friend again.
'The only time I feel things is when I'm with you!' She cried. That was the last time she spoke to him, before the disaster that took her from him forever.
But every time, that little bitter voice at the back of his mind stopped him.
'... And I will never make you feel anything again. And without me... without me, I don't think you know how to have feelings.'
And now she was gone. The last time he saw her, a building was collapsing on her head. No goodbyes. Only his father wordlessly carrying her broken body to him.
Back then, he had lifted her mask. Trails of tears were still flowing from her eyes.
He should have done something. Held her. Pleaded with her to come back. Cursed whatever sick cosmic forces foreordained that Gwen Stacy invariably had to suffer and die. Said goodbye one last time.
Instead, he walked away.
He landed back at the water tower now. The last place they'd really been together, before it all went to shit. He considered pulling his mask off, if only to breathe. He was too numb to do anything else.
He decided against it. He never knew who'd be watching him. Not in this state.
His Spider-Sense flared. Something moved in the darkness. Whoever it was didn't seem very good at keeping themselves hidden.
He spun on his heel, webs striking the figure coming up behind him in the face. They fell backward with a surprised yelp, hands flailing and scrabbling at his webs.
In an instant, he had pinned the stranger down and dragged them into better lighting. On closer inspection, he found it was a girl. Slim, tall(ish). Lithe, athletically built. Visions Academy uniform tattered and coated in dust. Smooth alabaster skin, blemished with minor cuts and bruises. Hair dishevelled, near shoulder-length...
... Blonde.
He shouldn't have been surprised when he pried the web off her face and found himself staring into shocked blue eyes. But he stumbled backward all the same.
'... Gwen?'
Instinctively, he lunged forward and pulled her into a hug, hoping against hope that she wasn't merely an apparition.
His heart leapt when his arms wrapped themselves around solid flesh and bone, moving, breathing, living... and sank when she flinched and shrank away.
'S-Spider-Man? H... How do you know...?'
Only then did he notice that her undercut was gone. As were her pink highlights and eyebrow piercing. She had the same sky-blue eyes and child-like tooth gap. But her freckles had darkened a mite. Her otherwise familiar voice was breathy and a couple of tones higher than he indelibly remembered. And she seemed... smaller. Not only physically, but in the way she carried herself as well.
She was shaking all over. Rivulets of sweat streamed down her pale face. Her breathing was fast and ragged, her eyes wide and darting about.
He felt himself break a little more again - at once for himself and for her too. Still, he also knew she needed his help. He also sensed that she needed him, somehow.
And this time, he wasn't going to leave her again.
‘It doesn't matter now. I just need to know if you're okay.' He spoke slowly, gently, yet firmly, and resisted the urge to call her by name again - if only to avoid freaking her out even more.
She continued hyperventilating and the wild look in her eyes wouldn't go away. Unsure how much contact she was comfortable with, but needing to catch her attention, he placed his hands lightly on her elbows and looked her in the eye as best he could. 'Hey. Hey. It's... it's okay. It’s okay. Just... just stay with me.'
He wished he’d said those words to her- the other her. But he had to focus on this Gwen in front of him now.
He hoped she did not notice his own voice beginning to crack. Neither of them was particularly stable right now; even so, he knew this: If I lose it now, we're both screwed.
Vaguely recalling some mental wellness lessons at Visions Academy, he guided her: ‘Alright. Just look at me, alright? Breathe. Breathe with me.’ She inhaled sharply, as though fighting for air. However, as she took more breaths, she gradually tracked his rhythm more and more closely. Her eyes were still shifting, but she was now making an effort to keep her gaze in his general direction.
‘You wanna go anywhere else?’ She shook her head hard and gave him a pleading look.
‘Don’t worry, yeah? I’m not going anywhere, either.’ On hearing his assurance, her hands shot up and she clung onto his arms tightly. Much too tightly (and closely). Especially given her relatively slight build. Though momentarily surprised, he didn't mention it. Bit by bit her breathing slowed, and her eyes began to settle.
When he was sure she could think somewhat straighter, he continued checking on her condition: 'Just tell me... what's up with you.'
The words began tumbling out of her mouth. Just like when they first met at Visions. Though her body was trembling less now, her voice was still shaky, stuttering. 'I'm sorry-so-sorry I f-freaked you out. This-this ringing in my head. It… pulled me here... didn't know where I was going...
... till I saw you.'
She paused, took a deeper breath, got it together enough to slow down. 'It's still going on, but...
Her blue eyes focussed on him and softened slightly, and her lips pulled upward just that little bit. '... it hurts less, now that you're here.'
She felt safe enough to let him go now. Thankfully, she had come unstuck. He was glad for her, but couldn’t truthfully claim he didn't miss her touch.
So she was improving. Good. He pressed his advantage and tried to lighten the mood. ‘Hey, I'm sorry too. Webbing you in the face like that. Doesn't make a good first impression, amirite?’
Her hint of a smile morphed into a real one. ‘... yeah. Guess that makes us even.’
The levity was cut short when she abruptly winced and grabbed her left hand with a sharp hiss. ‘Sorry. This pain still comes and goes. I hoped you might know…’ Her brow furrowed with trouble and confusion.
She held out her hand to him. Marred by angry red puncture marks. Fresh.
Then she asked - pleaded, really, her voice breaking: 'What the hell is happening to me?'