The Harder I Try, The More Damage I Do
It had been three days.
Three whole days since Peter had seen Miguel.
Saying he was worried was an understatement. Miguel never disappeared for this long, usually when Miguel locked himself in his office Peter would see him in the cafeteria or walk past him on the bridges and hallways after a day.
But this time there was no sign of him, not even a message on his goober. Peter had tried so many times to get Miguel to come out and talk, tactics ranging from yelling outside the office door to banging his hands against the metal until his fists hurt.
Miles had been leaving boxed empanadas outside Miguel's office, where little notes taped on top with doodles the teen had done. The group of teens hung out around the entrance to Miguel's office, an unsettling silence surrounding them only occasionally broken by a small attempt at conversation from Pavitr or Peni.
It hurt his heart to see the kids so worried.
No comforting or reassuring words that he could offer to them would help as much as just knowing if Miguel was okay would. None of them had even been assigned to any missions for the two days which made them even more concerned about their friend.
If Miguel wasn’t just hiding away to do multiversal work like he normally did then that was another thing that hung over their heads.
The only times they weren’t lingering around Miguel's office door was whenever any of them went to patrol their own universes, go to their schools, or just to swing around to clear their heads.
The morning after the whole incident happened Peter had tried to ask Lyla what Miguel was doing, hoping for her usual answer that the man was just working alone in his office, but instead the AI responded with something that made him even more concerned.
“I can’t even get into his office, he shut me off from accessing his gizmo or even appearing inside his office.” Lyla shrugged though her projected form seemed to be glitching much more than usual. “Maybe he just needs some time alone, he still has to eat and drink so he can’t stay in there much longer.”
Somehow, even with Lyla saying that Miguel would come out of his office eventually, Peter didn’t feel any sort of reassurance. This wasn’t just his friend taking a break from people, at least when he did Miguel would message him about it so he wasn’t worrying.
Currently it was just him at Miguels office door, the dark lighting wasn’t helping the feeling that was sitting in his stomach that something wasn’t right. He had convinced the kids to go home to their universes, Miles and Gwen had protested begging to just stay for another hour or two but they already looked exhausted from staying up late in the past nights so Peter forced them to leave.
Seeing their normally bright and cheerful faces now painted with eyebags and their eyebrows creased with worry. It made Peter want this to all be over. He wanted to have another movie night with Miguel and the kids. He wanted to hang out inside Miguel's office while he and his friend listened to the rants of the teens' recent missions, but above all he just wanted to know if Miguel was okay.
The man had the annoying habit of not talking to anyone about his struggles. It was stupid.
And now he was worried, the kids were worried, and he didn’t even know what the hell Miguel was doing. The hopeful part of him was thinking that Miguel was just taking time off, working on multiverse things, not doing anything that could hurt him.
But the more realistic part of him thought differently.
Peter had been Spider-Man for a long time, he had lost people and he had failed. He could still remember the depression he went through and the… unfavorable thoughts that he once thought.
That's what scared him the most.
The idea that someone he was close to was struggling and he couldn’t do anything. And as much as he hated to say it, the way that Miguel acted, so panicked and freaked out about everything. It was far too easy to see Miguel doing something he might regret.
Peter really hoped they hadn’t waited too long.
His hands hurt.
So did his chest, which was weird. He didn’t remember hurting his chest, it felt heavy though. Almost heavy enough where he didn’t really want to breathe anymore, but not breathing was not ideal.
He was still inside his office, elevated on his platform. Sitting down with his back against one of the control panels.
His slumped form probably wasn’t good for his neck or back, but Miguel didn’t have the energy. Anytime he tried to look around the orange lights hurt his eyes, maybe he could ask Lyla to turn them off.
Wait, no he did something to Lyla. What was it? He had locked her out, why had he done that? There was a reason for some form of a plan that he had thought of.
He didn’t want someone to see him, no not someone. There were more people he didn’t want to see.
The tips of his fingers hurt, like a heartbeat of pain that never went away. At least they had stopped bleeding after a while though it was a lot of blood, maybe that was why he was dizzy.
But now at least he couldn’t break things anymore. Or cut things, or hurt his family.
His family, that was who he didn’t want to see.
They would just worry about him, something told Miguel that Peter wouldn’t like what he did. Peter was probably mad at him for hurting Miles.
Maybe that was what he was saying to him when he last saw Peter. It was kind of hard to remember how long it had been, it had to be at least a day since he had hurt Miles.
Images of the teenager's cheerful smile flashed through his mind, his cheerful laughter echoing around him.
Shock, he missed the kids. He missed hanging out with them, he missed their snarky quips as he worked on reports, he missed the rants he would hear Miles go on about after a successful mission.
What would they think of him now?
Sitting on the floor, hiding away.
Hiding from them.
No, he wasn’t hiding. He was protecting them.
Protecting his kids was important. Even if Miguel had to protect them from himself.
It was for the better, he wasn't a good mentor. The kids needed a mentor that was an actual hero. Not some human-spider mutation like him.
Peter would take care of them, Peter was a good mentor. No matter how many times he had scolded the man for being a terrible mentor he had never truly meant it.
After all, Miles was such a good Spider-Man due to Peter. Peter had taught him how to web swing with web shooters, how to stick to walls, and how to use his spider sense. All things that the kid could have never learned from Miguel.
He had no spider sense to connect with the other spider people in the way that he had heard the teens describe. He couldn’t stick to walls, he had to use his talons, his claws.
Out of pure instinct Miguel looked to his hands, they still pulsed with uncomfortable pain after he had cut his talons off. There was a small voice of regret that whispered through the cloud of fog that still blurred his thoughts.
How are you going to fight now?
You have nothing to protect them with
Oh, that was a good point. What would he fight with now? Miguel couldn’t climb up surfaces without his claws, but with his claws he could hurt so many people. What if he hurt his kids again?
The feeling of his talons going through flesh briefly appeared in his mind before it got consumed by the fog.
His head felt weird. It was hard to tell whether it was weird in a good way or in a bad way but it felt unnatural? Strange? Confusing? To not have the constant whisper of his instincts inflicting his actions. Like a part of him was missing.
No, that was it. The instincts weren’t a part of him, they were a part of his abilities. A part of what made him a monster. Were his abilities a part of him? Did they make him who he was?
For most spider-like abilities was part of what made a Spider-Man a Spider-Man. After all, how else would a hero gain the title of Spider-Man? By saving people? By losing people? By failing?
Miguel had failed. He had failed a lot.
He failed to save a universe. He failed to see through the tricks that led him to gain his abilities.
He had failed to have a family.
That was just how it was. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get what he truly wanted.
The harder he tried, the more he lost.
Did he lose?
Miguel had lost but he had also gained.
He met Jess and Peter.
He met the kids, he met Miles.
And Gwen, Pavitr, Hobie.
Peni and Noir.
Shock, he missed them so much. He wanted to move. To get up and see if they were okay but his body wasn’t responding.
Miguel just sat there, not feeling the tears that bloomed in his eyes and ran down his face as he clenched his bloody hands. He had hurt himself to protect the ones he loved but he could already picture the hurt on their faces if they could see him now.
What would they think? Would they be worried? Would they help him? Or would they be happy?
That struck fear deep inside his heart. The idea that they would be happy to see what he had done.
Was cutting his claws off just another cruel action to hurt the people he loved? Did he want that?
No
No he would never want that.
What was the use of protecting them if what he did only hurt them more?