Chapter Text
It was quiet, the usual quiet that Miguel preferred to the overcrowding ruckus that took over HQ during the day. Despite that, there was still a heaviness that slung over him, weighing him down into a hunch over the device he was tinkering with.
Pulling all nighters was a chronic habit of his, especially after what went down with the spot anomaly. There was simply too much to do.
But he was put on the back burner, or was encouraged to do so and he had no qualms about it. Not with the way he treated Miles, he could hardly look any of the kids in the face whenever he was needed at HQ. No, he’d let Jess and Peter handle them.
It was for the better.
Cool blue light flooded the lab room in his apartment, deepening the dark semi circles that clung under his eyes. He was hunched over in his seat, large frame looming over his tinkering materials. He had a couple of watches to fix, he figured he’d just do it from home to avoid running into anyone who was staying overnight at HQ.
He scratched at his jaw, his blunt nails scraping against light stubble. Lyla had teased him about it, he couldn’t be bothered with picking up a razor.
The watch in his hand flashed to life, then fizzed before it powered off once again. Miguel let a tired sigh blow through his nose, nostrils flaring in frustration. His watches were objectively pretty durable, but it seemed like the spider that had used this one dropped a whole bus on it.
Pushing his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose, he popped the front panel back off to pick at the motherboard.
A beat later, a bright orange, holographic notification blinked in the space in front of him. He flicked his scarlet gaze up at it, ‘CANON EVENT’ burned into his retinas. He blinked, then waved his hand to dismiss it before dipping his head back down to continue working.
His chest ached for whoever it was meant for, surprising him.
So his heart still worked.
His own watch beeped from around his wrist, redirecting his attention. Jess and Peter were more than capable with handling things at HQ while he was on sabbatical, with only the most dire of emergencies left for him to take care of.
So when he squinted at the SOS message that glowed at him, he was expecting the place to be reduced to ash.
Not Gwen drenched in rainwater, tucked under Hobie’s arm and curled up on the sofa of the monitoring room in her civvies.
When he had stepped through the portal into HQ, he was met with one of Peter’s thin lipped grimaces. Miguel’s stomach roiled, whatever it was it was not good. Jess’ brows were pinched together sympathetically and they only furrowed tighter when she glanced up at Miguel. She pulled him aside before he could even ask what was going on.
“She hasn’t said much since she’s gotten here…” she swiveled her head towards the girl and Miguel’s gaze followed.
Gwen didn’t look at anyone, her eyes were cast down, glued to her damp teal converse.
“It’s not looking good.”
The canon event notification resurfaced in his thoughts, his eyes still sore from its neon glow. He failed to notice on what earth it had taken place, Earth-65. The ache in his chest bloomed into guilt.
“Miguel-“
He brushed past Jess and made his way over to the kids. Hobie stretched to his full height as he approached, leveling the larger man with an untrusting look that only made his guilt fester.
Watch yourself.
Miguel was despondent, masking it well under a blank expression. The two stared each other down for a beat, Hobie squinted, then stalked off. The older man lowered his gaze towards the blonde on the sofa, catching a whiff of rainwater and blood.
“Are you injured?”
Her pale fingers twitched from where they were linked around her knees, red splotched her sleeves and palms.
“…It’s not mine.” Gwen’s voice was raspy, he couldn’t tell if it was from overuse or lack of use.
He hesitated, “Who’s?”
She still wouldn’t look at him, her gaze stuck on her shoes which left muddy tracks over the sofa cushions. Better than blood, he thought for a brief second.
“My dad’s.”
His heart free fell into his stomach, which he scooped back up with a thick swallow as he braced his hands over his hips.
Canon event.
Canon .
Miguel wanted to tear his hair out.
He wasn’t there to say ‘I told you so’, he wasn’t that cruel. Still, there was quite literally nothing that he could do. He was more annoyed that he was even called here in the first place, as if Gwen would want to see his face after everything.
After her father-
“Miguel!“
He made it out of the room and halfway across the hall when Jess caught up with him, Peter was at her heels, cradling a cooing Mayday in his arms.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Last time I checked the place hadn't gone up in flames,” Miguel sneered, whirling around to face them.
“What did I say? Emergencies only-“ his eyes narrowed and he aimed a thick finger at Peter before he could open his mouth.
“The last time I checked, this isn’t an emergency, this is something we’ve all been through and there’s nothing we can do.”
“She’s a kid, Mig.” Jess argued, bracing her hands on her hips as she confronted him with a disapproving expression. It was strange seeing her without her belly, he heard it was a boy.
“And she’s not my responsibility, I told you that since day one that she would be your problem.” His voice was laced with a low rumble of frustration.
“Abba!” Mayday chirped, clapping her hands as if she wished to dispel the tension between the three adults.
Miguel faltered, the space between his furrowed brows softening as he turned away from them. Hot shame crawled up the back of his neck, sweat prickling along his hairline. His fingers twitched for his injection gun, then curled into tight fists.
“Oy!” Hobie skidded out of the room, gripping the doorframe to pivot towards them.
“She’s gone. Chucked herself through a portal.”
Jess heaved a sigh, then snapped her gaze up to Miguel, as if to say ‘now what?’
“Let her go,” he huffed, resting a hand over Peter’s arm to keep him from going after the girl.
“We won’t find her if she doesn’t want to be found,” he continues coldly. “What’s done is done, there’s no fixing it.”
The disappointed look they gave him had him swiveling around to type in the coordinates back to his apartment in his watch.
He blocked out the sound of Peter calling for him and Mayday’s chirps, the kind of chirping they all knew was for him. He didn’t think about how frantic the other kids will be when they find out about Gwen’s absence, or the reasoning behind it. He swatted at Lyla’s attempts to get him to hear them out.
And most importantly, he ignored the wad of guilt that clung to his insides as he stepped through the portal.
It was out of his hands now.
-
It was supposed to be out of his hands.
But a week after the incident, Peter all but jammed his line with calls and messages. He was worried, that much Miguel understood. Peter loved those kids as if they were his own, and he was great with them.
That was something he secretly envied and would never admit that it attracted him in favor of not giving the man a big head.
With a heavy sigh, Miguel set his tinkering tools aside and glanced up from the web shooter he’d been working on. Peter’s puppy eyed face blew onto the holographic screen in front of him once he answered.
“Mig!”
“Parker.”
“Jess told me not to bother you but I’m bothering you because this is important- Gwen is important. She hasn’t answered any calls, missed all meetings and missions. We think she might’ve disabled the tracker in her watch-“
Mayday’s red curls could be seen poking out from beneath the screen, she babbled as if to confirm what her father was saying.
“I believe those are grounds for termination. You don’t answer calls, you’re off the team.” Miguel droned, flicking his gaze back down to the web shooter.
“Jesus Miguel, she lost her father!” Peter shot back in exasperation.
He lost his daughter. He kept working.
He was selfish. He did it to himself.
He killed her.
The edges of his desk creaked in protest where he gripped at it, any tighter and it would’ve caved beneath his palms, claws sliding through it like butter.
“We’re sending out a search party to look for her, we could really use your help.” Peter pleaded.
Normally, Miguel enjoyed when Peter begged- under very, very different circumstances of course. But now he couldn’t deny the way his pleading tore at his chest, threatening to claw at his heart.
Right then, Peter looked like a parent begging for the safe return of their missing child on the news.
Gwen’s drenched, blood soaked form curled up on the sofa flashed through his mind, nearly folding him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Dios perdoname.” He muttered, then glanced up at Peter, his features now schooled.
“I’m busy, Parker.”
Peter’s protest was cut off as Miguel ended the call. He dragged a heavy hand down his face and swiveled in his seat to pick his tools back up. His knuckles knocked against a small picture frame, it skittered across the metallic surface of his desk, clattering onto the ground before he could even think to catch it.
His stomach lurched as he dropped onto his knees and reached a trembling hand to pick it up.
“No, no, no-“ his whispering was frantic, then he let out a pained moan when he turned the frame over to reveal a crack that spiderwebbed across his daughter’s precious face.
“No... lo siento... lo siento mucho bebé.” His breath shuddered as he tugged at his hair, his eyes burning.
“Por favor, perdóname.” His plea came out broken and thin. A sob wracked through him, his fingers stroked apologetically over the crack.
“Lo siento, mi cielo.”