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The moon hangs high above the skyscrapers tonight, the stars surrounding its spot in the inky black sky twinkle in unison with the beating heart that is New York.
The people of this city go about their lives the same as usual, cars hustle and bustle down streets, buses pull up at bus stops somewhat on time, taxies are hollered, hundreds of people walk the sidewalks glued to their phones or chatting with the friends they walk with, discussing Spider-Man’s death, the appearance of several new Spider-People, and every weird thing that has gone down in the previous weeks since Fisk and Olivia started their Collider tests.
In Queens, a shut shed door emits a hiss from behind, followed by the whooshing of smooth hydraulics pulling the deceitfully sleek doors apart.
Gwen steps out into the cool night air, she sucks in a deep breath, and stares down at the mask she holds in her hands and sighs. She goes to tug it on when.
“Watch out for rockets tonight. It’s cloudy with a chance of RPG’s.”
Gwen’s muscles jump involuntary and only just manages to refrain from letting out a startled yelp by sucking in a deep breath and carrying it all the way down to bury her surprise, holding it deep inside and exhaling slowly as to not give it a chance to spring up.
Peter grins down at her, and for a horrible, gut-wrenching second she’s staring at the much younger version of Peter that she robbed the world off.
He grins sheepishly down at her. “Surprised to see me?” He quips.
Gwen sighs, her hands resting on her hips as she looks down at her legs that she sweeps gently back and forth in front of her before looking up at him.
“Go fuck yourself. Well and thoroughly and for a long, lengthy time with something that will hopefully hurt a thousand times worse in a few hours.” She spits back at him with fake malice as her glare softens into a smile.
Peter chuckles and the brief respite from his thoughts and as he goes back to staring off into the city skyline that twinkles and shimmers in unison with the stars, a faraway look in his eyes that Gwen’s familiar with.
That her best friend used to have that same look fog over his eyes after another round of dealing with his tormentors.
Gwen crouches at the knees and graciously jumps just high enough into the air to flip softly onto the roof of the shed without so much as disturbing a slate as she situates herself beside the grown up version of her best friend.
The way his eyes are sunk into their sockets, the way his eyelids droop over his eyeballs, the wrinkles that marr his forehead and the light scars that dot his face makes Gwen's stomach roll in anger and sympathy for the older man, anger for the villains who’ve caused this in the famed and infamous hero and sympathy for all the…mental shit that comes with this job.
It’s a fatigue even she feels, and she’s only been doing this job for a few years now.
But it’s still part of the job, and she knows and accepts that.
But after 20 years of fighting criminals and living on the bleeding edge of life and death, she can see the evidence that kind of toll it can take on someone.
The fact that that someone in this case resembles and is someone she cares about…it hurts.
And creates a sense of foreboding as she and Peter stare out into the city they’ve all sworn to protect.
Foreboding for Miles and everything this job will do to him.
“You were too hard on him back there.” Peter speaks up after a while of companionable silence, shattering it with his statement of fact, like a stone through a glass window shattering into shards.
Gwen bites her lip and looks down at the mask she has folded neatly in her lap, whose fabric she toys with between her fingers.
“Yeah…yeah I know.” She whispers.
He nods but doesn’t look at her. Just continues to stare off into the distance with dull but kind blue eyes.
“Why didn’t you stop?”
She sighs, folding the mask over several times each way.
“I want him to be prepared.”
This time, Peter tilts his head to look at her. Her eyes raise to meet his and even after a few years he can spot the same fatigue in her soul that sits in his, just missing the physical reflection of his body state.
She averts her eyes back to the city. “The people he’ll face, the supervillains, the kingpins, the random thugs, the armed convicts, anyone with an axe to grind. None of them are going to hold back. They’ll fight to kill, and if he’s not ready they’ll succeed.”
She goes silent for a few moments, but Peter doesn’t need a spider sense to detect that she has more to say.
“His mother shouldn’t have to bury her child, I’ve seen a mother and father bury their little boy before…I-I wouldn’t wish the kind of pain they were in upon…anyone, really.”
Peter sucks in a deep breath and mulls over the image that she just put in his head.
“If being harsh on him now helps him be ready for when he puts on that suit and that is what it takes to help keep him out of a coffin…then so be it.”
He nods, understanding her point, but the way he doesn’t have anything to refute indicates to Gwen that he isn’t happy about it.
Knowing she isn’t going to get anything better than that out of the tired superhero and understanding why not, it’s not easy to watch someone you have faith in and want to see succeed get cut down by a rag tag group of people who are going out of their way to be as hard on him as they can possibly be without outright bullying the kid.
She tugs on her mask and pushes herself to her feet. She walks to the edge of the shed and almost zips away before Peter speaks up again.
“Where are you gonna go?”
She looks back at him and shrugs. “We have a lot of information about Fisk and his goons. Thanks to Miles we have a location, an exact one, we know how the Collider came to be, we know why Fisk wanted it in the first place now we just need to find out when Olivia and Fisk plan on putting their plan into action.”
Peter raises an eyebrow at her. “And you know how to find this out…how exactly? Forgive me for being slow here, I’m just not sure if I’m up to speed here on how you're going to find out top secret insider information.”
Gwen grins at him, saluting him with two fingers.
“Sorry Spider-Parker, Ghost-Spider has her suspicions, but a good hero doesn’t kiss and tell.”
She’s about to leave again when Peter shoots a web at her back and drags her towards him until they're mere inches away from each other.
“You couldn’t learn about that with any of the others?” He questions.
“They’re chasing down other leads.” She lies.
His eyes narrow at her. “No, according to Aunt May, Penny is working on the new Goober, Noir has gotten sidetracked with my old Rubik's Cube and Ham is eating…something, so why are you in such a hurry to get away from all of us?”
She’s already back towards the edge of the shed, arm raised and ready to fire, when she hesitates.
She looks back at him for a single second.
“Because of my problems, not yours or anyone else’s. My mistakes. I-I…can’t be here right now.”
She debates elaborating for a few seconds, however, the last thing her head needs right now is a trip down memory lane. Instead, she leaps and swings her way into the night.
As Peter stars after her, he pulls a rumpled picture out of his inside jacket pocket, its faded, he’s younger, back in High School, he’s smiling brightly, and beside him his universe’s Gwen is tucked into his side, wrapped in one of the many hoodies she stole from him with a smile that's just as bright, twice as warm and filled with hope and love, even through a photo Peter can feel it radiating off of her in waves.
His eyes tear up slightly as he looks down at the photo. Thumb lightly skimming over her face.
As Ghost-Spider soars high into the air for the final swing before she disappears out of even his enhanced sight, he mutters.
“I know the feeling.”
========================================================================
Times Square…
The bright neon signs glow brilliantly against the night sky, packed to the brim with native New Yorkers and tourists alike, enjoying the food stands, basking in the vibrant colours and talking animatedly with each other.
One of Fisk’s enforcers is thrown against the side of one of the buildings, a sheet of tight, sticky webbing following close behind glues him to the surface, keeping him firmly trapped as the sound of sirens wail in the distance.
Gwen lands on the same surface with an impactful thud, upside down and taunts the struggling crook.
“Hey, so a little word to the wise, next time you try and take out a private detective investigating your bosses criminal schemes involving seismic activities, maybe put some more effort in and make your plans more detailed than ‘slip in through the back door’ rookie move, I hope Fisk wasn’t paying you too much, shoddy workmanship, tch, tch, tch. Criminals aren’t taking any pride in their work these days. It’s sad to see, really.”
As flashing reds and blues and wailing sirens fill the air, Gwen stretches dramatically, fingers of one hand and both legs still glued to the buildings, she decides It's time she made herself scarce.
“Anyway, good luck buddy, let’s hope we never have to do this again. Be better for both of our sakes, yeah? Catch ya later!”
She detached from the building and swings through the gathering of cops and slinging her way out of sight once again.
A corn dog stand serves a steady stream of customers along the sidewalk of the street beneath one of the many brightly light screens of Times’s Square when most of them unleash startled shouts and yelps as Gwen swings by, snagging a corn dog with a web while shooting a 10 dollar bill to the underside roof of the stand, the working manning it doesn’t even bat an eyelid as he retrieves the note and smiles at the tip.
Gwen lands in a crouch on a rooftop overlooking the neon square, and she plonks herself down against a vent and treats herself to one of her favourite snacks.
As she’s taking bites out of her break, a news report comes on once again talking about the death of Peter Parker, covering the celebrity news/gossip side of things, controversy about this thing or the other, family involvement in assisting the crime of vigilantism with Aunt May being one of the key talking points both for and against the case both in defence and against the poor old lady.
Gwen places her snack down on its wrapped beside her, no longer feeling hungry.
The news reporter continues on after receiving a question from a host at the studio.
“An excellent question Darren, while the consensus from the audience and indeed those from prosecutors have contained the perspective that May Parker likely was obviously to the activities her orphaned Nephew was inserting himself into, could the same be said for the man’s widowed wife, Mary Jane. The model and actress gave a heartfelt statement to her fallen husband at his funeral just a couple of days ago, but has yet to give the public any indication that she’s in any grief over his sudden death. This lack of emotion being displayed by his wife is calling many of her own fans to question her talent, wondering if she’s truly deserving of the roles she’s been starred in and the money she’s acquired from them or if she was only ever with the Hero in the first place to get him to give recommendations to high profile, highly influenceable people in Hollywood to further her own careers. Valid concern or not I don’t think it’s, you know, appropriate is the word I’m trying to think of to immediately assume the worst in someone whose been with the man on and off since High School, verified by others in defence of their friend, particularly by famed Scientist Gwen Stacy, who is leading industry breaking research in partnership with controversial firms such as Oscorp and Alcamax but independently seeking ways to improve the quality of life for patients suffering with non-treatable diseases such as diabetes, Alzheimer's, lupus. The young woman has repeatedly defended her friend in statements, saying how all those who are criticizing Mary Jane for not being an emotional wreck about her husbands' death are “morons who can’t accept the fact that she clearly doesn’t want anyone sticking their noses into her business.” She went on to say in an interview with one of the hosts that was published on Monday. Can we roll the clip, please?”
The screens smoothly transitions to a studio with a fancily decorated science themed background that the interview was originally discussing before it devolved into gossip. The reporter with a cheery false smile laughs too hard in response to a statement that Gwen apparently meant not to be funny before she asked, “You and Mary Jane Watson have been friends for donkeys' years, am I right. Wow, for a friendship like the one you and her have displayed over the years to last so long given your wildly different personalities and career choices is inspiring to say the least, what would your response be to those who are criticising Mary Jane for protecting her husbands secrete life and some of their harsher claims that she doesn’t deserve the praise she gets that it was clearly Spider-Man pulling the strings?” She finishes with a long chuckle that has Gwen’s eye twitching subtly before placing her hands in her lap neatly, fingers clasping together tightly as she addresses a question she’d normally avoid if she weren’t so pissed off by the phrasing.
“Marz has always been a very private individual, she likes to handle things on her own, in her own way. That’s what she’s doing now. She made fame and fortune long before Spider-Man started to become almost irrefutably liked by the public, she starred in the biggest plays in the leading roles back in High School and continued the trend long into college. Her fame and success is all her own, and Peter would be the first to proclaim that if he were still alive. She doesn’t owe her fans, the media, or anyone else a waterworks show. She doesn’t need to prove her grief to feel it. And neither does anyone else.”
“I couldn’t have stated it any better myself, Gwen Stacy! Ladies and Gentlemen!”
Gwen Stacy watches the interview and rolls her eyes in synchronism with her interdimensional counterpart as the screen cuts back to the report.
“Strong words from Gwen Stacy there. While we aren’t owed a “waterworks show” as she put it, it is strange to a lot of people that she’s been so silent on the matter outside of the speech given at his funeral, but maybe the ice around Mary Jane is starting to break, I just got word that tears have been spotted on the stars cheeks after talking with Wilson Fisk! Of all people. Jessica, handing it over to you now.”
Gwen looks down at the floor beneath her and sighs. She gets to her feet, plugging in a pair of earphones and slipping her mask back on before she swings off into the distance. Heading in a very particular and purposeful direction.
========================================================================
The rooftop entrance door is pushed open with a harsh slam, swinging wide open until it hits the concrete beside and gently comes back.
As the door comes back into place, a figure coated in a thick, high-quality looking black trench coat, blue jeans, beige hat and long, wavy locked red hair, marches towards the edge of the building.
As she comes to a stop, hands leaning against the railing, hands shaking silently but noticeably.
She taps one foot to the beat of a rhythm only she can hear, lip sucked between chalk white, pristine looking teeth that she gnaws on as she flips the envelope Fisk gave her between her hands.
Tears well in captivating shimmering, making the bright, vibrant green of her irises almost sparkle in a way that makes the reflection of the stars in the night sky above her dance in their depths.
She swallows thickly past the lump in her throat.
“Fuck you. Fisk. You worthless piece of…” She sucks in a deep, calming breath and gently blows it out.
Her foot taps faster, and she’s sucked the same part of her lip back between her teeth, eyes gazing to her left as her eyebrows furrow and unfurrow. Debating with herself.
She lets out a long sigh. “Screw it.” She reaches down into her jacket pocket and pulls out of a box of cheap cigarettes and a lighter.
She’s about to take one out of the packaging.
A ‘thwip’ sound fires from behind her. A web latches onto the back of the box and is yanked out of her grasp hard enough that her arm goes with it, twirling her around just as Spider-Woman lands upon the railing with a thunk that rattles the railing as the cigarettes zip into the palm of her hand.
Gwen’s head stars at the cigarettes in her hand then back to MJ who sighs and stares down at the floor, hands on her hips, the tips of her toes playing with the ground beneath her.
The lenses of Gwen’s mask narrow at her as she holds up the box.
“Cigarettes. Really? I don’t need Spidey-sense to know that we’ve definitely had words about this before.”
MJ rolls her eyes at her, she turns away from the hero, back to stargazing out over the city her late husband defended for most of his tragically short life.
“Boy, nothing gets by you, huh? Also pretty sure this is the first time I’m saying anything to you…Gwen.” She states, her tone tinted with sass, and she speaks the name of the woman behind the mask.
Gwen sighs dramatically as she tugs off the mask. “Knew I should have invested some of my time into making a voice changer, it’d make keeping a secrete identity so much easier.”
MJ doesn’t respond besides a slight scoff as she tucks the lighter back into her pocket.
Gwen flips off the railing and onto the floor of the roof, tucking the mask behind her, she jogs up behind MJ.
“Are you trying to insinuate that I’m not very good at keeping my secrete identity a secrete?”
MJ doesn’t quite grin, but her lips do slightly turn upwards, and Gwen comes to rest beside her.
“What? Me? No, I could never take your delusions away from you like that. That’d be just cruel.”
Gwen huffs, blowing a piece of fringe off her now purposefully uneven haircut thanks to Miles up as she does so.
“Excuse you. I’ll have you know I can pull off the voice of a husky man who smokes three packs of these a day with ease, no problem. Easy as pie.”
MJ snorts a little, it's the last sound uttered between them for a while, as the two friends lapse into a comfortable silence.
Not much time passes before Gwen notes how her friend's eyes keep flickering down to the cigarettes more and more often, biting her lip once again as her foot takes up its rhythm again.
Gwen tucks the cigarettes out of sight and into one of her suit's built in pockets (thank Christ for aunt may showing her how to sow after the…disaster that was trying to teach Pete about it.)
She pulls out a tub of nicotine pouches, the ones you place in your mouth and suck to help with tobacco cravings.
She taps MJ on the arm with them. “C'mon, take these, it’ll help.”
MJ smiles a small, timid smile, embarrassed with herself that she almost relapsed….again.
“Thanks.” She says as she gently takes them from Gwen’s hand, opens the container and plops one into her mouth.
Gwen just smiles, and nods.
As the craving subsides and MJ tucks the container down into her pocket, Gwen places a hand over her arm as she goes to take out her purse.
“Don’t. It’s fine, they weren’t expensive.”
She goes to protest, but the look Gwen levels her is almost daring her to try and insist.
One of the reasons MJ and Gwen get along so well is Gwen is the only person in the world that isn’t-
Wasn’t.
Wasn’t Peter, that can out-stubborn MJ when they need too.
Normally, she’d put up more of a fight against them about it or anything else, normally.
But she’s so tired, she doesn’t have the same fiery passion she normally has to argue against her on this.
So this time, she lets go of the purse and removes the hand from her pocket.
After another couple of minutes of silent pondering on both of their parts, MJ talks up.
“So is it a safe bet to assume you’re here because you need information? I take it you saw the reporters gossiping about me talking to Fisk - again - and-”
“Nope.” Gwen interrupts, popping the P with a clip of her tongue.
MJ glares at being interrupted. Gwen meets it with a level gaze.
“Do I need a reason to check up on a friend?”
MJ sighs. “No of course not but-”
“But nothing. I already know when Fisk and Olivia are going operating the collider again, just doing away with the test runs and putting their plan into motion to bring Fisk and his family back.”
MJ narrows her eyes at Gwen, turning to her and crossing her arms, eyebrow cocked. “And you worked out this time, how exactly?”
Gwen rolls her eyes, but a small grin spreads across her lips at being able to prove MJ wrong.
“C'mon, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work it out. This is Fisk at the end of the day, Kingpin of crime though he might be, he isn’t exactly original or non-predictable, he loves art and artistic expression hence why his tower is filled to the brim with secrete passageways operated by statues and camera’s hidden in the eyes of portraits…my guess is it’ll start with a party or announcement of some kind that begins after sunset, and that the test will start shortly thereafter. It’ll run its course and if it works -meaning we can’t stop it this time - then it’ll be over by morning and he and his family will have enough time to ascend the floors to the rooftop and watch the sunrise dawn above a new day and a new him. Or so he’ll claim, it’ll last until he inevitably falls into his old habits and the cycle repeats itself again.”
MJ glares for a few moments at Gwen, burning and steady.
“I hate you.” She states with a huff.
Gwen fist bumps the air in victory. Laughing for a minute until she calms down, growing sober as she considers her next question…or statement.
“And you’ll be there.”
MJ’s head whips around to her so fast, she half expects it to rip apart from her spine.
“And what in the world could possibly give you enough brain damage to come out with that statement?”
Gwen wants to laugh at the burn, but something tells her that wouldn’t exactly go down well right now.
“That’s what's in that letter. Right? Fisk gave you an invitation to that party, in person, because he knew just sending you a letter containing it would never do the trick. So he calls you up in person, hands you the invite. You angrily proclaim you’d rather voluntarily sign yourself up for a reality show with real Saw traps than attend.”
An uncomfortable feeling sits in the pit of her stomach thinking about it.
She swallows thickly and continues anyway.
“So he forces your hand by ruining the only thing he thinks you have going for you now that…”
She trails off, not wanting to hurt her friend any more than this conversation and the contents of that invitation contains.
MJ, however, has never been one to beat around the bush.
“You mean now that he’s gotten rid of my husband and the biggest thorn in his side.” She states blankly, the lack of emotion scares Gwen more than if she replied with an explosion of anger and hate.
She coughs and clears her throat.
“Yeah. He blackmails your career, I take it he said something along the lines that he’ll use his connections in the film industry to ensure you never get work ever again, except maybe in a coffee shop.”
MJ tries laughing it off, but her voice is thick and wobbly.
“Yeah. Well, jokes on him, I’d still look as stunning as ever in a little uniform.”
Gwen chuckles as well. “Yeah, maybe a little apron to go with it to complete the look?”
“Mhmmm, depends on what colour it is, if it's white, oof. Hard pass.”
Gwen scoffs sarcastically.
“Oh, come on, MJ. Don’t be silly, it’d be brown to match the coffee beans.”
MJ grins as well, but it's a little flat and duller than it’d normally shine with.
“Or the contents of what the customers leave in the public restrooms.”
Gwen bursts out laughing, both in disgust and at the look of shame on the faces of the customers she can both imagine and remember leaving such…messes.
MJ looks at her funny for a moment. “At this state, I’m starting to wonder If I picked the wrong career in the first place.”
Gwen waves her hand at her, the other holding her stomach as she laughs.
“No, no, no just-” she interrupts herself with her laughter. “Now I just have this image of fisk wobbling out of the bathroom, trying to stare down at the floor in shame as he leaves the restroom.
MJ joins in the laughter but keeps her cool far better than Gwen.
“Puh-lease, like any sane retail worker or Batista of any kind would let that oaf of a man anywhere near public restrooms. I’m pretty sure toilets aren’t meant to withstand that amount of KG’s.”
They both laugh along with that for another few minutes, thoroughly enjoying the way this scenario plays out and playing the heartless crime lord as a blubbering, constipated, baboon.
As their laughter trails off, MJ loses her grip on the joy it provided, placing her hands back over the railing.
“So yeah, something like that. The only thing you're missing really are phrases like ‘you’ll be reduced to nothing yet again’ or ‘you’ll be as irrelevant as your dead husband will be in less than a year’ or my personal favourite. ‘You’ve always had quite the talent, I’d hate to have to rob the world of it’.
Gwen blinks with a grossed out expression at the last one.
“Now I’m less convinced he wants his wife back at all if he’s talking to you like that. Jeez, dude. Been a while since I’ve seen flirting that bad, and trust me, I’ve heard some bad lines.”
MJ smiles a little as she scoffs. “Tell me about it. So as you can see, I didn’t have much of a choice but to accept…I don’t know, maybe if this happened in the early days of Pete donning the costume, maybe be I’d fight against this…publicly stunt. Let’s call it. But now….” She sighs a tired sigh as she trails off.
Gwen nods, understanding too well where she’s coming from.
“Look. If it helps you feel any better, not that you need to be beating the crap out of yourself for accepting it…Peter wouldn’t blame you…and neither do I. You have a whole life ahead of you that you’ll have to try and navigate without your partner by your side. That on its own is a tall order, one that’ll take a while to fulfil. Focus on that, not on about the moral implications of things that no one that matters to you would blame you for. Especially with you and I’s knowledge of Fisk’s history and making good on threats.” She says compassionately.
With an extra helping of empathy to go along with it. She, herself, has a long, detailed, documented history of her friends forgiving her for things only she thought she needed forgiving for.
Things not Spider-related anyway. That’s a kettle of fish she’ll keep sealed at any and all costs if she has too.
MJ inhales a deep breath once again and blows it out shakily.
“I appreciate that but…but I’ve…I’ve accepted an invitation to a party where the man who murdered my husband is going to make a grand speech full of lies, and I’ll be paid for it. I’ll get money from sponsors of Fisk from the industry to say nice things about the whole thing. It’ll be my most shameful performance, and I feel like such a piece of crap for accepting it! But what choice do I have!?” She rants, voice rising in pitch as she gets close to hysterics once again.
Gwen places her hands on MJ’s shoulders and pulls her in for a hug. Rubbing soothing circles on the back of her jacket.
“You always have a choice. The Emjay I know, and from what I’ve heard from the other Peter’s, you’re all slightly different, but not when it comes to the things you're most passionate about, things like the truth. You don’t have to hunker down and accept this, but you don’t have to decline the invite to make that happen.”
Sniffles ensue along with a confused, tired. “What?” delivered in a disbelieving tone.
Gwen pulls back, hands placed firmly on MJ’s shoulders.
“You can go to the party, listen to Fisk lies, endorse them at the time. But this universe still isn’t without a Spider-Man, yes he’s in training, yes he has a lot to learn. But he has all the building blocks he needs to truly be something amazing as well. He has a big heart, and a supportive family that’s taught him well. He won’t let Fisk’s lies go unpunished. Fisk is an egotist, he’ll find some way to rub it in Peter’s face, it might be subtle, but it might not be, keep a watch on what's going on and when everything comes to light, drop the bombshell and how you were blackmailed into attending it in the first place.”
MJ laughs bitterly. “My career would still be over.”
Gwen shrugs. “Maybe. Unless you could…do something about that…”
MJ’s eyes widen. “Murder?”
Gwen groans and lifts a hand off to slap herself in the face. “What? No! Of course not. I meant in less lethal terms!” She proclaims exasperated.
MJ’s mouth moulds into a little circle as she whispers. “Oh. Right.”
Sighing, Gwen elects to ignore that.
“Play the long game while Miles is doing his thing. There’s no way Fisk talked you into this without giving at least some proof that the contacts he gave you exist and would in fact do as he bids them too, so long as there’s a bid behind it. Use it. Uproot all of them, play to their blind sides.”
MJ looks down thoughtfully at that, pondering Gwen’s words, ideas, methods, questions and cover-ups all coming to mind.
‘Gwen is right. They have me backed into a corner now, but I can get out of it and back them into an even tighter one with much more severe consequences if I play my cards right.’
Finally seeing a way out of this, and getting ideas of how she can really stick it to Wilson Fisk while she’s at it. The guilt doesn’t go away, not entirely. But it doesn’t feel as all encompassing and hopeless as it did before her friend showed up. Darkness singed into by fire.
When MJ raises her head back up to meet Gwen’s eyes, she finally sees the spark of fire, anger and determination that she’s seen many a time before.
A smile ebs onto Gwen lips as well as she recognises her friend again.
MJ doesn’t acknowledge it. Grief or no grief, she’s still MJ, and she’s still way too stubborn for that.
Instead, she whispers to her friend.
“Thank you.”
Gwen nods and wipes away the tear tracks from her cheek.
“Anytime.”
As they step away from each other, MJ blows out one final deep breath and laughs. “God, I really feel like having a cigarette now.” she jokes.
Gwen isn’t having any of it.
“Nope!” She shouts cheerily as she snatches the pack out of her suit's pocket, dodges and weaves around the arms of MJ that jokingly tries and snatch them from her. Until the hero tosses them over the edge of the building, a web zooming close behind. Latching into the pack and zipping it to a window a short ways below, startling a wild sleeping father so bad he falls backwards off the couch, disturbing his sleeping baby in the process.
Meanwhile, on the rooftop, as the laughter they bask in together dies down, and they go back to their spots leaning against the railing.
Gwen stares out at the city skyline once again as MJ leans against the railing backwards.
She sighs out a happier breath and turns her friend to look at her friend, or, her planet hopping friend. Curiosity piqued.
“How’d you know?”
“Know about what?” Gwen tries playing dumb.
MJ’s eyes narrow once again and slaps Gwen’s shoulders as a punishment that Gwen rubs to soothe after an outcry of ‘ow!’
“You know damn well what I’m talking about. How’d you know what Fisk spoke to me about, the news report only caught the tail end of the conversation, the “cover up” portion. Talking about being excited over my next scheduled cameo.”
Gwen fiddles with her thumbs in her clasped hands. Avoiding MJ's eyes at all costs.
“Just uh. Just…intuition really.”
Hair raises on the back of her neck as she feels MJ’s boreholes in her.
Even with superpowers, she can’t help but shrink a little.
“Oh, were you expecting me to buy that? Sorry. Got the timing all wrong. Want to try again?”
Gwen gives her friend a nasty side eye. In response, she crossed her arms and glares back.
“I poured my heart out as I talked about the Fisk shit. You’re turn.”
Gwen sighs in defeat. Not in the mood with…everything to piss off the only redhead in the world that could kill her with a single glance.
Her tongue licks her lips once as she thinks of how to explain it.
“In my universe, I have run-ins with the kingpin of crime same as any other Spider-Person. Only difference is in my world, Fisk is in Prison and the puppet master. Matt Murdock is the guy who supplies me with my headaches.”
MJ listens intently.
Gwen continues.
“He’s the guy who pulls all the strings and is more working against Fisk than for him, he’s an -oh boy it hurts my soul to say this- a talented lawyer, knows the law like the back of his hand, plays the long shot in court, and he rarely loses a case thanks to that.”
Gwen drags a tired hand down her face as she thinks about the trouble the apathetic lawyer must be cooking up thanks to her absence and the headache she’ll inevitably develop when the time comes to foil them.
MJ listens with a thoughtful expression.
“Fisk is smart, shocking I know, but dealing with the man whose smart enough to cover his crime and keep him out of jail must add a layer of complexity. Especially because, as his lawyer, he’d have everything he needs to pin it on the Kingpin.”
Gwen points a finger gun at her and mimics it shooting. “Give the lady a prize, as she just hit the jackpot!”
MJ scoffs. “With the people we’re discussing, the more appropriate term would be hitting the crack pot.”
Gwen laughs at that one.
“Yeah. Always plenty of that going on in NY, Fisk or no Fisk. Either way, Murdock being as smart as he’s a huge pain in the ass. Even without sight, the bastard has managed to see through my mask, and I’m 90% certain he knows who I am.”
MJ’s eyes widen. Well-versed in how disastrous that would be thanks to Pete’s colourful word choices to describe how his epic demise would go down.
“He knows!? Are you sure? What gives you the impression that he knows.”
Gwen shrugs, looking down at her hands.
“I don’t know, but whenever our paths cross, which happens more often than the chances alone warrant. I don’t know how he found out but…”
“Why are you only 90% sure then that he knows.”
Gwen sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose in stress.
“Because if he knew who I was and if I’ve repeatedly turned down his offers and bribes to work for him, and he has access to private records of citizens, then he could easily find out where I live and end me far quicker than all the skirmishes with his goons. So why hasn’t he if he really does know? It doesn’t make sense.”
MJ bites her lip again as she thinks about Fisk and how callous and uncaring he is about anyone and everyone.
“Maybe…maybe he sees it as something to the effect that it's much more worthwhile to him to keep you alive and blackmail onto joining his side than murder the city's hero who protects the civilians from the bad guys he employs?” She suggests tentatively.
Gwen doesn’t respond outright, just continues to stare out at the city skyline.
MJ doesn’t need a superhero sense to know that this is a…touchy subject.
So she drops it, focusing instead on a different angle of the conversation.
“This still doesn’t explain why you’re so familiar with Fisk and his tried and true schemes that you knew exactly which one he employed against me.” She reminds, not sharply, but not quite as gentle as it could be.
Gwen clears her throat.
“I knew what he did to you because….because-” She’s interrupted by the thoughts of her next words that make the knife that permnately rests in her heart twist slowly.
She takes a second to regain composure, MJ doesn’t bring it up and stays silent to give Gwen the space and time she needs to talk about this, sensing that the reasoning is far more personal and complicated than the reasons she assumed after convincing Gwen to open up about it.
“Because in my universe, Peter Parker dies. Same as in this one.”
MJ sucks in a sharp breath. Holding it as her eyes squint shut as her eyes blur and burn.
Gwen’s voice is wobbly when she speaks up again.
“The difference is that he was seventeen at the time he died, and I was the one who struck the killing blow.”
MJ recoils, eyes blowing wide as saucers as she stares at her friend in horror.
She hates herself for it, but MJ’s mind wanders to all the worst case scenarios that would push Gwen to such extreme’s. Not painting her friend in the best of lights. To say the absolute least.
Gwen stares down at the pavement on the street below them, tears welling and droplets falling from them.
She continues, wanting - no. Needing to clarify.
“Pete was my neighbour and best friend, my earliest memories have him right by side. Harry, him and I, we were a team. In everything.”
“I loved him.”
MJ swears she feels a crack forming through her heart.
“And I killed him.”
A heavy, punishing silence falls upon the two girls, one of them two scared to utter a word or move a muscle and the other so blown back by the revelation it's like she has to command her body to go and pick up her brain several hundred yards away.
“I-I don’t….I don’t understand. You’re not a murderer, you're not heartless or cruel or evil, so what the hell happened?” MJ barks.
Gwen recoils from the tone, and guilt snakes around MJ’s spine, gripping her tightly. Her anger and confusion burns it away.
“Peter…” she speaks low and quiet, not trusting her voice to relay how she feels inside, and doesn’t trust her legs not to bolt.
“He had…issues. For a long, long, long fucking time. He’s…struggled with things, he was sharp as a whistle, had more brains than everyone in our school combined, but socially he…fell behind. Harry and I were his only friends, the only people in the world who didn’t look down on him or pick on him, but Flash Thompson and the rest of his dense headed friends? Not so much. They never, ever, left him alone.”
“Over time. It boiled over. Peter couldn’t handle it anymore, and he had just started working with a man named Doctor Kurt Connor.”
The name freezes MJ to the floor. Constricts her heart tightly.
“The lizard.” She mumbles horrified.
Gwen nods numbly.
“What did he do to Pete?” MJ whispers.
Anger overcomes Gwen’s facial features. Darkening them.
“Nothing.”
Confusion overcomes MJ’s.
“What? The hell are you talking about.”
Gwen taps her foot anxiously, beating around the bush to avoid explaining that nightmare and reliving it in the process.
“In my universe, Peter helps Kurt with the Lizard serum. At first, he had good intentions, to help people recover lost limbs. But as time went on and with it the project he started…seeing how it could benefit him. The final clock stroke came when Spider-Woman came on the scene.”
She can’t break pace, she has to blurt it out now or never.
“He loved everything she represented, wanted to be like her, be strong, gentle. Do the right thing, stick up for the little guy but on a grander scale, realise both May and Ben’s lessons of life to him.”
“The night of prom, he took the serum after being humiliated by the jocks for the last time. He transformed into the Lizard, I had just arrived. He punched through the floor. Everything afterwards happened so fast. I didn’t realise how hard I was hitting him.”
“I was scared. This was my first time fighting a supervillain. It had only been thugs up till this point.”
“It was only when the dust settled and scales retracted that I realised what I had done. I stayed with him, got caught by the cops. Rightly blamed for his death and had a target placed on my back. Eventually my dad found out who I was and Murdock started more of his schemes.”
She pauses only to breathe, her lungs needing time to refill.
“And what did those schemes include?” MJ asks, taking advantage of her friend's need for oxygen.
Gwen’s eyes squeeze shut as she remembers.
“Same as what Fisk is doing to you now. Make a mockery out of tragedy.”
She elaborates.
“He ruffled purses with all the big wigs in New York, backed the policy by publicly defending them and condemning Spider-Woman at a gala type event and donated all the profits, fundraiser funds and proceeds to the New York City Police Department. To “help bring Peter Parker justice and rid our beautiful city of this violent, masked terrorist.”” She quotes blankly.
MJ winces in sympathy, patting her friend's shoulder. “Ouch.”
Gwen simply nods, continuing on.
“Wait till you hear who he wanted to be there as the main attraction”
MJ doesn’t gasp or express shock. As soon as more details came to light, she and anyone else could see where this was going.
She does however express sympathy and compassion.
“Oh no…Gwen,,,that, god, what a fucking piece of shit.”
Gwen stares blankly ahead. “Yuppp, that about sums up his worth as a human being.”
“And there was nothing you could do? Didn’t your dad fight back against this?”
Gwen nods. “He did yeah. Wholeheartedly, came up with every excuse in the book as to why it's a bad idea to accept funding from someone who was under as much suspicion as Fisk was. But all of New York City wanted me behind bars, the polices inability to capture her was irritating the public and journalists alike, and in the end the mounting pressure is what forced him to concede. I could have refused…but I was already under enough scrutiny for not publicly bashing Spider-Woman 24/7, and I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, so I went along. Albeit reluctantly. Played my part and almost threw up the contents of my stomach several times.”
MJ grimaces. “I’m not in for a fun time, am I?”
Gwen shakes her head and smiles sadly.
“Nope.”
As silence falls over them again, the bleakness of the conversation starts to wear on Gwen’s nerves.
“That’s why I said what I did. You always have a choice, for example like I said I could have still not went, it's just that there would have been not insignificant consequences for not going.”
“And it's those that had you backed into the corner. Given the scope of those conversations, was the choice really still you to make?”
Gwen nods. “Absolutely. I could have lived with those consequences, it wouldn’t have been fun but they don’t pose a threat to my life, and with time I could find ways of improving my image by doing what I always do, to do what I donned this suit to do in the first place. I believe that in time people will see our true intentions, catastrophes suck, they kill innocents, they're wild and out of control and the ones that involve people are even worse. The only good thing about them is that they bring everything to the surface, no one knows what anyone is capable of until things get dire.”
“That's why you gave me an example of a way I can circumvent the torture that’ll be listening to Fisk fake well up about the husband he murdered? So that I could see that while sometimes things are unavoidable, it's still a choice to go through with them, but that there is always a smart way to go about it?”
Gwen nods and smiles. “Bingo! But even when you're getting back at them, everything comes with a consequence. Either financially, society wise or legally. There will always be ramifications, the question is how much is what you’re doing worth to you.”
MJ breaks eye-contact with Gwen as she mulls over her friend's words. The question of how much is it worth echoing through her mind.
Gwen gives her the silence to contemplate. Letting loose one last quip.
“And that concludes my Ted Talk. If you have anymore questions, please shut up and don’t contact my email address.”
MJ chortles at that, but keeps her response bottled.
A phone buzzes with a sharp ping. A notification of a message.
Gwen plucks the phone from its pocket, eyes skimming over the text.
MJ watches her reaction curiously, the blue light emitting from the phone gently coats her friend's face and contrasts nicely with the dark but warm lights of the night.
Gwen pockets the phone with a nod and a deep breath.
“Duty calls?” MJ asks, the corner of her lips turned up, a tone sadder than either of them would like.
Gwen sighs as she rubs the back of her head, scratching her blonde hair at the same time. “Yeah. That was Penny, the Goober is ready. The sun will be up in a few hours, we’re pretty sure Miles will be back…at some point, but he needs a bit of space, I’d say the game plan is to give him a bit of time before we head out looking for him. Kid’s got a target on his back now and no handle on his powers from what we’ve seen. I better get going.”
MJ nods and smiles sadly. “Right. Good luck…with everything.”
Gwen smiles and nods. “Thanks.”
She unclips her mask and tugs it back on over her face, flipping her suit's hood up over the top. She jumps onto the railing and is about to zip away when MJ’s voice calls out.
“Wouldn’t a date be nice instead of just a time?” She questions coyly. Sass colouring her tone smoothly.
Gwen’s eyes blink several times behind the mask as she thinks over the conversation she just had. Then rubs the back of her head sheepishly yet again.
“Uh yeah, yeah. That’d help out just a small bit.”
MJ smiles and shakes her head fondly. More than used to this. “The invitation for the party says that the event will take place just tonight. You were spot on with the time, at this time of year it’ll be beginning just after the sun goes down.”
Gwen memorises the date and time and salutes her friend. “Cheers for that.”
MJ just smiles.
Something sparks in Gwen’s head just as she’s about to swing away.
Something to do with the suspicious distance between this Emjay and the alternate version of herself.
She remembers how things have been with her own friends since her Peter died.
MJ tilts her head at her friend. “Did you forget your web-shooters or something.”
Gwen ignores the quip.
“One last tip before I hit the road.” She says as her head turns to look at her friend behind her.
“You don’t…you don’t have to go through this alone. You know that, right? You’ve got a friend in me. In Gwen and others from school that you're still close with, and many more you’ve made thanks to your job. You have a support system. Don’t make the same mistake I did, don’t push them away.” She almost pleads. The faces of her friends from her own home flashing through her mind.
MJ’s face furrows in annoyance as she looks away. “I’m not pushing anyone away-”
“Then how come all your friends have been having trouble getting a hold of you since the funeral?”
“I’ve been busy.” She lies.
Gwen raises an eyebrow beneath her mask. “And how come Gwen isn’t here despite her offering to?”
“Because she has a demanding job even more so than I, and she shouldn’t have to be torn away from it to come see me.”
“And the phone calls you don’t answer and the texts you respond to but dance around the topic?”
MJ groans. “It doesn’t matter! Look, this is my problem, not theirs!”
Gwen grows silent for a moment. Her voice is soft when she replies.
“Maybe they don’t see it as a problem at all.” She suggests timidly.
MJ sighs. “It's not the point, I’m not going to burden them with my issues. I’m fine. I can handle everything myself.”
“No. You can’t.”
MJ glares. “Watch me.”
Gwen nods. “I will, and they’ll be watching too as you do what you’ve always done and bury things till they get to the point where it almost crushes you. Powerless to help because you’re too damn stubborn to admit to yourself that you're human. Same as the rest of us. They want to help you, but they can only do so if you let them. I’m sure they’ll shed plenty of tears and need plenty of support when it's your turn to be lowered into the ground.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me!”
“It will if you underestimate it, same as you do with all your problems, and don’t accept some damn help.”
“You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?” She spits.
Gwen grins, brushing it off. “It's one of my favourite superpowers.”
“Whatever.”
Gwen deflates a bit at her friend's moody response. Her phone buzzes again with several messages before she can respond.
MJ leaps at the opportunity to drop the conversation taking place.
“You should get going, don’t want to keep your friends waiting.”
Gwen always hates it when her friend is right, but that happens a lot, and she should be used to it by now.
“Yeah…yeah. Just think about what I said, yeah? It's your choice but take it from someone who pushed all her friends away. It really isn’t worth it.”
She lets the sentence hang in the air between them for a few moments. She’s about to swing away again when she’s called back.
“Why is it too late for you to make amends?” She asks quietly but curiously.
Gwen’s thumbs twiddle with each other.
Before she answers, she fires a web into the air, where it attaches to the underside lip of a neighbouring skyscraper. She jumps and flips. Ballet slippers clasping around the string of web tucked between her legs and clasped in her hands.
She sways gentle forward. Till she’s inches away from an unfazed MJ’s face.
“When Peter died…I-I grew angry. With myself, mainly. But also with…everyone. The bullies who pushed Peter to his breaking point, at random people who ignored the role they played in that. The same ones who only started caring about Peter when he died. At Conners for enabling him, at my friends for reasons I’ve never figured out. It felt like the world was against me because at the time it was, so I pushed it away. In my angry haze, I didn’t realise that I was also pushing away the only people who would have my back and best interests at heart as well.”
Gwen bites her lip as her eyes fall downwards sadly.
“Needless to say during that time I said something's I shouldn’t have and eventually…they stopped trying to reach out. I don’t blame them.”
She extends a hand and plants it on her shoulder. She looks earnestly into her friends, entrancing green eyes.
“Don’t repeat my mistakes.”
MJ’s eyes shimmer in the moonlight, Gwen can almost see the cogs in her brain chugging away.
“I’ll consider it.” She finally partially answers. Gwen prides herself on being smart enough to understand that when it comes to her friend, that’s as good as she’s going to get for now.
She nods and smiles gently. “Okay. Alright, gotta go, kid wrangling.” She rights herself, still holding onto the web, she’s about to swing away again when MJ’s hand shoots out and clasped around hers and pulls back.
“One of these days, I’m going to swing away on the first try.
“I’ll consider it. Maybe I’ll even take it. If you do the same.”
Protest is almost blurted. A finger pressing against her lips makes her brain shut up and words short-circuit.
“You didn’t think it’d be as easy as waxing poetic, did you?”
She finally removes her fingers and Gwen blinks innocently.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying?” She questions meekly.
MJ chuckles, shaking her head. She turns away from Gwen and starts making her way back towards the door she entered the roof from. It shuts behind her, ringing with finality.
Gwen’s slippers make contact with the floor of the roof again. Pacing to the point that she might end up wearing a trench into the surface as she mulls over what her friend said.
Maybe it’s not…hopeless.
Gwen’s expression hardens.
No. The damage has already been done.
Before her mind pipes up with any other intrusive thoughts, she dives over the railing and lets the soaring of the wind quieten her mind.
One Day Later: Fisk Tower…Collider.
Lasers fly. Robotic mechanical arm swipe at heroes. The Spider-Clan swing and fight.
The collider roars in the backdrop of the fight.
Miles soars, dodging and weaving around lasers and gunfire with ease and grace, fighting like a man possessed by a purpose he seems to have fully embraced.
He might have been late realising his potential. But he has, and it makes Gwen’s heart pound with pride. She’s never been happier to see a friend succeed.
Noir grapples with Tombstone. Penny and Ham are trying to get the upper hand on Scorpion.
Fisk is about to shoot Peter.
“Spider-Man look out!”
Peter’s Spider-sense goes haywire in warning. He looks up at the viewing chamber to see Fisk aiming down sights at him.
He’s about to start moving when a bang rings out and a bullet from a handgun punctures the glass in front of the Kingpin.
MJ stands behind Fisk. Handgun raised in steady hands while she glares at him with vengeance filled eyes.
Gwen watches with bated breath as scientists scream and scramble for cover beneath desks.
And The Ghost-Spider only has one thing to say.
“Well. Shit.”
“MJ!?!?! Peter screams, horrified.
He starts moving towards her. Gwen knows where his mind is going, and it's not a good idea for either of them.
She parkour’s over chunks, bars, railings to get over to him. Stopping him in his tracks and placing her hands on his shoulders. Blocking him as he tries to get around her, almost mindlessly. Like it’s engraved in his nature.
“Peter. Peter! Peter! Stop and listen to me. This is a bad idea. I’m going to say to you the same thing I said to you upstairs. Seeing you isn’t going to help her. It’s just going to hit her in the face harder that the Peter she loves is gone. You can’t replace him. Seeing you will be like seeing a ghost for her, it’ll either slap her in the face or stab her in her sleep. Stop. Trust me on this. I’ve been there. I’m there right now.”
“Go. I’ll make sure she’s safe and that she gets out of here. You and Miles keep the supervillains occupied.”
The pain in Peter’s eyes is palpable. So many emotions struggling to express themselves through the fabric of his mask.
He head falls tiredly to the floor. He sucks in deep emotion filled breaths as he nods. It looks like it takes every ounce of self-control to summon the will to do just that.
She rubs his shoulder soothingly. Heart bleeding for her friend.
“It’ll be okay. You can trust me. She’s my friend too, I love her as well. I’ll make sure she’s safe. On my life.” She pleads with every drop of conviction she possesses in her soul and body.
Peter doesn’t respond. Just jumps back into the fray. Gwen watches him leap away before she zips away after knocking out a charging henchmen. Dragging a web line with strength and flying and swinging towards the viewing chamber/HQ.
She remains out of sight as she lands on the solid white outline that wraps around the top of the box. Keeping her breathing under control, she eavesdrops on the conversation. Spine coiled and ready to intervene at a moment's notice. She shudders as her brain comes up with all the worse case scenarios for how this can go wrong.
Inside the viewing chamber. MJ’s voice is seething with venom. It drips with it as she talks.
“You already got to kill my husband once. You really thought I was going to sit back and let you kill him a second time?”
Fisk stares through her with bored, uncaring eyes.
“You haven’t stopped me yet. Until you pull that trigger, that is, are you a killer Mary Jane? Go on. I can hear it in your voice that you want to, I took everything from you. Or should I say I will once I make good on my threat because we both know that you don’t have the balls to press that trigger. This won’t be my last waltz. No Spider-Man or widow will be getting in my way tonight”
MJ clocks the hammer of the pistol and takes a menacing step forward, and Gwen’s stomach plummets as her heart rate spikes.
“You want to bet on that!?” MJ hisses venomously.
“No!” Gwen gasps in fright.
She can’t stand by any longer. If she doesn’t kill Fisk, then Fisk will kill her, and Gwen doesn’t want anybody dying tonight.
She won’t let anyone die under her watch ever again.
She backflips off her spot. Kicking her legs forward. She flies through the thick windows like it's nothing more than paper in a shredder.
A startled Fisk spins round as the Ghost-Spider flies towards him.
Her feet and knees have no problem finding perch on his upper torso as she rains punches on his face. She lands punch after punch. Reeling her fist back and propulsing it straight into his nose. The blows ringing like a clap of thunder with the concussive beat of the drums that matches the hammering of her heart.
Eventually Fisk’s eyes are glossy as he puts up less and less of a fight until eventually he collapses with a heavy thud that disturbs the surrounding dust.
Gwen hops off. Rips the handgun out of her friend's hand and tosses it at one of the guards that breaks into the room, who falls to the floor unconscious. She drags MJ to the floor as the second guard storms in. She fires a web at the wall behind his ankles and zips into them. He gets knocked high into the open space. Gwen leaps up. The foot landing flat into his stomach. She turns them both over and lands on top of him as he meets the ground.
She rolls off him. Sprints to her friend and wraps her arm around her waist. Firing a web and carrying her out of danger just as more men storm in behind their friend and start opening fire on them.
One of the men has better aim than the others and with the weight of another human dodging is significantly harder.
She dodges the wrong way, unbeknownst to Gwen in the thick of it. Into another hail of lasers and bullets.
They never make contact. Miles distracting the frantically firing guards with a cheesy quip that goes over everyone’s heads as Peter B Parkers arms wrap around both ladies and dives with them out of the line of fire.
They tumble through the air, landing in a giant rolling pile upon one of the metal walkways below the viewing chamber.
“Are you okay!?” Peter frantically asks the woman of his dreams and the occupation of his thoughts while said woman lies on top of Gwen. Peter picks himself off them all first and reaches his hands down to MJ and gently hefts her to her friend while Gwen lies sprawled out on the floor groaning in pain.
“Yeah…yeah I’m fine…Pete? I-is that…is it really you?” She whispers in awe and fear.
Gwen glares up at her friends. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine! Just peachy, don’t thank me for saving your idiotic ass or anything. It’s all good! What’re heroes for…pricks.”
She’s ignored by the two universe spanning lovers in favour of staring wonder-locked into each other's eyes. It’s a gaze so soft and gooey it makes her want to hurl.
Miles slinks down on a web, looking with visible confusion between the two lovers. A single finger pointing between them back and forth.
“So she’s…”
“Yeah.”
“And he’s from another dimension?”
Gwen sighs. “Yup.”
“And their…uh.” His voice raises in pitch.
“Stop. It's not as weird as you’re thinking.”
He gazes down at her dubiously.
“He’s from another dimension where this woman is still alive and well, and she’s a widow who’s staring at the ghost of the man she loved - loves - How is this not weird?”
“Okay. I lied. It's extremely weird. This whole week has been weird, you got superpowers, we find out there are other spider-people out there. Someone loved Fisk enough to have a child with him, and now MJ and Peter are using each other as coping mechanisms…”
Miles blinks. Flabbergasted.
“Is this job always this strange?”
“Pretty much.”
Gwen taps her foot impatiently while watching MJ and Pete as they try and spark conversation earnestly. Rolling her eyes as they both fail several times.
She marches forth. Snags MJ’s hand and starts dragging her away from him. “Okay. Enough stargazing.”
“Wha- The hell are you doing!?”
“Getting you out of here. We still have to shut this thing down and go home.”
“But-”
“Don’t even try it. You’re leaving. Now.”
“Gwen - Just…just hold on a second!” MJ demands as she tries resisting Gwen’s grip on her.
“No. We’re getting you out of here before we miss our window.”
“But you don’t understand. He’s right here!”
Gwen takes in a deep breath.
“He is. And he’s going home to the MJ in his universe, whether he realises that or not yet. He might look like the Peter you lost, but they aren’t the same, but it's hard to see that when he’s wearing a mask. Trust me.” She repeats.
MJ snatches her hand loose from Gwen’s grasp with a particularly emphasises yank and a glare that could melt stone.
“Why should I? Hmm? What reason have you given me to trust you, If I follow your logic here than why should I trust you if variants of people are so different, how do I know you're my friend at all and not protecting your own interests!?”
Gwen blinks in confusion. “What interests? I haven’t needed anything off of you. I’m just trying to look out for you like I always have.”
MJ laughs bitterly. “Like you always have? Is that some kind of joke, all knowing you has ever done for me is bring me pain and get me in trouble.”
Gwen’s nerves twitch irritably.
“That trouble you talk off is often invited upon yourself by yourself, you’d find it with or without my help, the only difference knowing me makes is that you have someone who can bail you out when you get in over your head. Almost like you're doing now. We aren’t arguing about this. You’re leaving.”
“Why? So you can have Peter all to yourself? Hmm, maybe rob me at my second chance for one of your own.”
Gwen recoils like she’s been hit.
Something behind Gwen’s eyes break as they narrow at her friend.
She marches swiftly towards her. Credit to MJ where it's due, she doesn’t take a single step back and doesn’t otherwise react save for her jaw tensing.
Both Miles and Peter watch Gwen anxiously, one ready to pounce on her at a moment's notice and the other having no clue what in the world is going on.
Instead of punching her friend. Gwen instead places her hands on her shoulders once again. She stares deeply into her eyes and when she speaks it's soft, harsh, but kind.
“He’s gone.”
MJ sucks in a deep shuddering breath. Eyes clenching shut.
“No he’s…he’s right here…” she argues weakly and meekly.
Gwen shakes her head.
“No. MJ, he’s gone…the man you knew. Loved. Cherished is gone. No amount of tears, pleading…or replacements are going to change the fact that the man you’ve spent a majority of your life with already is never coming back. A lookalike might be standing right here, but the closer you look, the more you’ll realise that all the little differences between them add up. Peter A Parker is dead. You can’t change that…no matter how badly any of us want too. He’s gone.”
“No…” She whispers brokenly.
Gwen drags her friend in for a hug, who holds on tightly. Like she might slip through her fingers, too.
“Yes. I’m sorry. But it’s true…I get it. You’re hurting, losing someone like you have is…beyond description of words. You’ll heal, eventually…but this isn’t the right way to go about it. The man you loved can’t be replaced. This Peter can’t fill the hole in your heart, he wouldn’t even be able to mask the pain that comes from it. Nothing can. Except letting it heal. You’ll be okay. Just not right now. Do it right. Let yourself feel it, mourn the way you need to mourn whether you know what that means for you now or not you’ll learn in time, and with some help from your friends one day the pain won’t go away…but it’ll be a little more bearable than it was the last day. It’ll fluctuate, you’ll have days when the memories of him will make you smile and laugh, and then they’ll be days when everything will remind you of him and of the fact that he’s not here with you.”
“But you’ll get through it. I know you. It’s what you do. It’s what WE do. We never give up. Ever.”
As breaks down into sobs, clutching onto Gwen so hard, it drags them both down to the floor. Miles stares down at them with sympathy, feeling more and more out of place by the second.
He stealthily flips high over head. Landing beside Peter, making no more than a peep as he lands, he taps Peter’s shoulder with the back of his knuckles to get the man's attention.
“C'mon, man, she’ll look after MJ. Let's help the others in the meantime.”
Peter heaves a tired sigh and nods. “Got it.” He says gently.
Miles nods and smiles. “Last one to punch Tombstone’s a rotten egg.” He jokes, swinging off back into the fray.
Peter goes to join him. Looking back at the sobbing MJ, his heart breaks. Still he smiles softly, “good luck” he whispers before leaping away.
For several long moments the two women just sit, embrace and let the moment pass. The sound of lasers, the chaos of the collider, the thwips and the mechanical whirs and the banter of spiders washing over them in a peaceful lull that doesn’t take away from the pain that thunders through MJ. Only the soothing warmth of her friend brings her any solace.
Even that gets interrupted.
Somewhere across town, a clock tower going haywire finally settles and strikes on the hour.
Gwen screeches in pain as the cells that make up her body split and stretch apart. Ripping and tearing away from each other in a single split second of pain best described as a bolt of lighting ripping you to shreds.
It's MJ’s turn to support her friend as she writhes and glitches.
It passes within a few seconds, leaving Gwen a panting, pained mess as she leans more on her friend's weight than her own.
Gwen groans as she presses a hand to her now hammering head. “Well. That wasn’t…fun.”
“Jesus. Are you okay!?” MJ gasps in concerned horror.
Gwen grins as she gets cheeky.
“Don’t know about Jesus, but I’m okay, I guess.”
The slap across the back of her head was both expected and deserved for that one.
“Guess I deserved that one, huh?”
MJ shakes her head and sighs. “Just a little bit, yeah. That was awful.”
Gwen nods and laughs a little. Just a little bit.
“Are you okay?” She asks her red haired friend.
That sad dimming of her eyes sinks back into their emerald green depths. She shakes her head. “Not really…but, I don’t know. Maybe one day I will be.
Gwen nods confidently, holding her friend's hand in her own.
“You will. I know it.”
MJ doesn’t have words for that. Doesn’t believe that. But having someone who believe in you that you do have that strength reinvigorates her with hope that maybe she can find it,
They both climb to their feet after MJ gives a reluctant nod.
But Gwen has one final thing to say.
“One last thing. I swear it this time…I know you won’t be happy to hear this now, or for a long time yet, even. But my time in this universe is coming to a close, and it’ll eat at me if I don’t share it.”
“What is it?”
Gwen stares down at the ground and rubs her arm, suddenly self-conscious now that her brain has caught up with what she’s about to admit.
“In my universe…I’ve…I’ve grieved for Peter every night since the one I lost him on. Since the one I killed him on. It’s eaten away at me. Will continue to do so till the day I die. But things lately…I’m not fully there yet, but each day I’m getting closer and closer to a place where I’m not as…sad anymore. Or angry. My latest chapter in this process was…that I-I kind of…sort of…met someone. Someone special, flawed in her - in their own ways…but I can sense there’s a good heart buried beneath all those flaws. A little damaged sure…but still good. If…she can hold on to it.”
MJ’s face morphs from listening, to confused. She opens her mouth to speak. To ask what she means when it clicks. Her mouth forming a cute little o.
“Oh.”
The silence between them is thick and uncomfortable for a moment before surprise shifts to understanding.
“This is, like, the least surprising thing about you.”
Gwen suddenly feels very offended. But not in a bad way?
“What's that supposed to mean!? It's a good thing, right? RIGHT?” She exclaims anxiously.
MJ claps her hands, laughing. “Oh come on! Of course, it's a good thing, I’m just saying...that you always got just as excited talking about girls as you did when you were talking about boys. So, who’s the lucky girl.”
Gwen doesn’t, or can’t, form a response as she blubbers her way stumbling through her head trying to find words in this state.
“Wha- Tha- She- L-look I…oh for fuck's sake Gwen, get a grip on yourself woman! The point is!” She takes a deep breath, calming down.
“The point is that I never thought I’d get to a point where I’d allow myself to feel any kind of happiness. I know our situations aren’t exactly the same, but the message essentially is.”
She steps forward. Entering MJ’s personal space, shattering the easy-going laughter of the moment prior and turning things serious yet again.
The world around them ceases to exit as Gwen talks.
“Don’t rob yourself of the chance of finding happiness with someone special again. Peter wouldn’t want that for you, and we both know it. He wouldn’t want you or anyone being miserable about him for the rest of their lives. He’d want you to move on. So do. One day.”
MJ is about to protest. Gwen interrupts her and ploughs on.
“I’m not saying it has to be now. Or tomorrow or a week from now or a month or a year or even 10 years from now. Grieve however you need to grieve…but one day if the right person comes along, someone who can make you smile and laugh and giggle like a kid again. Someone who touches your heart and soul and makes you feel fuzzy all over….don’t rob yourself of the chance at being happy with that person, whoever it might be. Don’t let the ghost of a dead lover hang over you too long.”
MJ’s eyes are wild and wide, fear is embedded into the depths of them at the prospect.
Times up. Time to get her to safety.
MJ goes to protest, to argue to deny she can ever do it. That makes sense.
Gwen just won’t give the chance to implant those delusions into her own head.
The world comes screaming back into focus as Gwen drops to the ground. Sweeping Mary Janes legs out from under her.
MJ nearly falls over the edge of the walkway they're on. A white gloved hand leans over the edge, stuck to it firmly, and grabs a fistful of her jacket in her unyielding grasp.
All the fight argued out of her, MJ’s hand clutches around Gwen’s wrist. She pleads up at her.
“Wait! How will I know if I’m ready?”
Gwen stares down at her blankly. Mask removed at some point during all this.
“You won’t.” She answers…and prompts.
MJ stares up at her in confusion, but something in Gwen's blue eyes begs her to consider what she’s saying.
A spark ignites in MJ’s eyes again.
“It’s a leap of faith…” She whispers in wonder. Remembering one of her husbands favourite mottos for when he talked about becoming Spider-Man.
Gwen’s blank expression slowly lights up with a breezy grin.
“Go get 'em’ Tiger.”
MJ’s arms fall out to either side of her like an angel descending to earth as Gwen lets go.
As she falls through the colourful void. Her friends' expression is cool as a breeze as she glides down.
“I can always count on you, Gwen.” She says gently.
The redhead closes her eyes as she falls. Trusting the web that fires after her and latches onto the same spot Gwen held, that slows her descent until her boots gently tap against the floor.
From above, Gwen watches with a proud smile as Officer Jefferson Davis starts escorting her friend out of the battle zone and delivering her to safety.
She tugs her mask back on and turns to re-enter the fight.
Something nudges her mind. A longing. An impulse.
She takes out her phone. Scrolling through photos till she finds one of her friends. Betty, Glory…and Emjay. The four of them perched around instruments. She’s much younger then. Happier too. Her eyes are bright and joyful, and her friends have matching faces of glee.
Easier times.
But not unobtainable for her again.
“I’ll make things right with you guys.” She whispers in a promise. Tucking away her phone with a soul lifting feeling of hope. Joy. Determination.
She leaps into the fight for the final time.
And for the first time in a long, long time. She looks forward to going home.