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Lois stared at the large, snoring figure beside her, nestled in their thin summer sheets. There was once a time where she’d wake up in the middle of the night to no warmth by her side. The empty bed would fill her with dread and anxiety about what her husband was up to. What could have happened to him? Every night was a relief to have him beside her.
She used to ask herself if it was cruel or selfish of her to appreciate these things. In some ways, her husband had been a lot happier when he’d lived his double life as a superhero. He’d lived for the adrenaline dumps, the soreness after a day of battle, the satisfaction of people’s smiling face when they saw Spiderman save the day once more. He was in the prime of his life, the only thing he’d suffer from physically was the aches and occasional broken bones; mentally, it was the stress of what might happen to his family, but that never stopped him.
But after the accident, Peter Benjamin Parker of Queens, New York became Peter Griffin of Quahog, Rhode Island. The pole had penetrated through his skull, damaging his brain beyond repair. The citizen who used his car as a makeshift ambulance to haul Peter to the emergency room didn’t have time to strip Peter of his Spiderman outfit. The citizen, however, did have government connections. So, as the surgeons worked tirelessly on salvaging as much of the Spiderman’s brain as possible, the government was working tirelessly to scrub any record of Spiderman having entered the facility, any record that this Peter Parker guy was the real Spiderman. The citizen, he thought it was for the best. He knew brain injuries like this were career ending. It’d be best for Spiderman if he were allowed to retire without fear of being harassed by his old enemies.
When Mary Jane Parker was contacted by this mysterious citizen, she raced to the ER. She knew this day might come, that every day could be Peter’s last. She accepted it; it came with the territory of loving a superhero. She held on to his hand for what felt like years as this citizen explained to her the facets of the Witness Protection Program. The surgeons had explained Peter Parker would never serve again, the damage to critical parts of his brain too severe to grant him that privilege again. They’d have to relocate; they’d have to don new identities. Peter would have to undergo months to years of physical therapy at minimum. They would have to wait until he woke to truly assess how much he’d be impacted by this catastrophe.
When Peter regained consciousness weeks later, Mary was shocked with the change. Peter was still a fun, loving man, but there was clearly a deficiency in his intelligence. His type of humour had changed, his demeanor seemed less tense, less on-guard-at-all-times.
But he still looked into Mary’s eyes with that love and charm that she remembered when first seeing Peter.
And so she stayed by him. Through every moment of physical therapy. Through every step in the process of relocating. Peter was too mentally handicapped to stick with the new name they’d tried to give him; he would always call himself Peter. So instead, they decided a last name change would be enough. Peter never really understood why Mary Jane Parker had to change her name to Lois Griffin, but he seemed to be able to go with it and accept it more quickly than his own name change.
Peter gained weight over the years, unable to move with the same grace and agility that he’d had when he was Spiderman. He seemed to have forgotten how to use his powers, because they rarely if ever came up again. That was okay. It meant he would be safe. Lois feared the day when Peter might accidentally rediscover those dangerous things.
Lois ran her fingers lightly through those brown locks of his, scratching his scalp in a way she knew calmed him down. The sleeping man nuzzled into her touch, blowing a sigh of contentment through his nose.
She was okay with this change. She didn’t have to worry if today was the last day that she got to see him. She didn’t have to worry about the Green Goblin trying to kill her or their children or their house. She didn’t have to worry about any of them. All she had to worry about was the ridiculous shenanigans that Peter got himself into with his new friends. The trouble he caused her was a great deal more than she’d asked from God, but she still had him.
She’d deal with the chaos he brought so long as she could be with him.