Gwen
In another universe…
Peter dropped to the ground as silently as he could but was unfortunately thwarted by ugly splat sounds as his Spiderman boots hit the wet pavement. “Shit,” he sighed, shifting uncomfortably as he felt the water soak into his toes. The rain had picked up and he couldn’t stay long - not that he could catch a cold, he just didn’t want his suit to get all weird and wrinkly again. Ironing spandex was SUPER annoying.
With a small sigh, he shuffled a bit closer to the dark tombstone. “Hey Gwen,” he whispered, squatting and taking a moment to brush some leaves off the stone. He produced a bouquet of large, yellow flowers and gently laid it on the ground directly under her name. “I… I brought you sunflowers today. I know you’re allergic to them,” he gave a watery laugh, “but they’re just so, so yellow and I kept thinking of your hair-“ His voice cracked and he drifted into silence.
It had been literally years now, and he still visited her every month. Sometimes, he brought something funny or stupid he found while on patrol, and sometimes it was just to tell her a bit about his life. Like… she was still there, and she still cared.
Part of him was aware it wasn’t healthy, but part of him also didn’t want to forget her. He thought of her during every patrol and almost every night, when he laid in bed and watched the shadows from passing cars dance across his ceiling. She may be gone, but she was his reason to keep going, keep fighting. If he could prevent another Gwen from dying -another innocent person- then… then he felt like the weight of the guilt lessened on his shoulders, little-by-little.
Thwip.
Peter reacted before he consciously registered the sound, his spider-sense screaming at him from the nape of his neck. He flipped to the right and threw a web in the direction of the attacker. At the same time, his left arm flew back against his will and he found himself suddenly pinned to a nearby tree, a thick, white web holding his wrist to the tree trunk while simultaneously blocking his web shooter.
His own web had hit a man in a beige trench coat and dark slacks straight in the face. The stranger staggered back a step before heaving a big sigh and reaching up to his face, ripping off the web with a few powerful strokes of his hand. He made a face at the strange taste it left in his mouth. “I deserved that for last time, I think,” he said with a lopsided smile, familiar grey eyes dancing with amusement.
Peter’s eyes boggled under his mask. “You. Youth pastor Peter!”
The older Peter rolled his eyes. “Can we not-I think I prefer Peter-Two at this point.”
Grinning unashamedly, Peter strained his arm and ripped through the web. He noted how hard it was to do so and made a mental note to ask more about those organic webs later. “I should call you Accountant Peter with how you’re dressed now.”
He closed the distance between them rapidly and embraced the other in a tight hug, feeling like his heart was going to burst. “Man, I’ve missed you!” He stilled. “Wait, does that make it weird? I don’t want to make it weird-“
“No no, it’s not weird,” Peter-Two assured him, returning his hug firmly. “Missed you, too, buddy.”
Peter-Three squeezed him back with relief, patting the other man’s torso gently as if to check for gaping wounds. “You’re not still dying, right?”
His elder chuckled and pulled away, shaking his head is disbelief at the question. “Of course not. Your webbing put pressure on it, so thanks for that.” He looked around, taking in the fog, rain and total absence of other people. “I thought I’d find you here,” he murmured, eyes distant as he observed the rows and rows of solemn, barely-readable tombstones. “I checked the Empire State Building first and you were a no-show.”
Oh. Peter was glad that his mask hid his flushed cheeks. He rubbed one forearm awkwardly. “I’m that predictable, huh?”
“No,” Peter-Two responded gently, “Let’s just say I know my way around New York City cemeteries.” He nodded toward the black tombstone with the sunflowers at the base. “That’s her, isn’t it?”
Peter hesitated for a long moment. He never prepared for this. How would you prepare for some… multi-verse version of yourself meeting a dead love? It never even occurred to him that was possible.
The other Peter took his silence in stride. “It’s okay,” he said placatingly. “Can I say hi?”
Peter’s throat tightened and he silently nodded, stepping away to give the other some space.
Peter-Two stepped up to Gwen’s tomb, kneeling carefully so not to touch the ends of his long coat on to the wet ground. He reached out and traced a finger over her birthday, then across the engraved hyphen and across her death date. “She was so young,” he whispered. “Just a kid.”
Peter nodded, knowing that it wasn’t just rainwater soaking into his mask. “She-” his voice cracked, so he paused, took a breath and tried again, “She shouldn’t have died.” It was my fault. It will always be my fault.
Peter-Two looked up at him with those deep, oceanic eyes. They looked simultaneously hardened and soft at the same time. “‘Should’ and ‘shouldn’t’. Who determines that? Purple aliens who live in space? That thunder god from the band the kid told us about?” He shook his head as he stood. “We're just the friendly neighborhood Spiderman. We aren’t some god running around deciding who should die and who doesn’t. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
Peter blinked, then barked out a rough laugh that turned into an uncontrollable giggle. “Did you just quote Gandalf?” He pressed a hand to his heart as if offended. “I can’t believe you went full nerd on me, I thought you outgrew that-”
Peter-Two shoved him playfully, making the other wobble off balance. “Stop calling me old,” he tried to sound annoyed but failed, “And Tolkien is a GIFT.”
“Why are you really here, man? To give me pep talks?” Peter laughed, holding his hands up in a placating manner so that he doesn’t get manhandled anymore, “If you’re here, that means-“
“No no, for once the multi-verse isn’t falling apart, or at least nobody has told me that yet,” Peter-Two responded hastily, “But I did want to invite you to dinner at… Well, at my place.” He suddenly seemed a bit shy, as if this was a giant secret and he wasn’t used to talking about it.
Peter quieted. “Dinner? In your universe? With… you and your MJ?”
The other Peter tilted his head in a way that seemed universal to confused Spidermen. The gesture made him decades younger, and Peter saw flashes of the curious, wide-eyed high-schooler that must live on in both of them. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
Peter saw a flash of an image in his head. A dream where him and Gwen could have settled down and spend time bantering across the dinner table about the next TV show to binge or about the best way to wash his suit to get out the stains. It hurt, knowing that it would never happen.
A warm hand on his arm jolted him out of his thoughts. Peter-Two’s eyes were gentle now, as if he read the other’s mind. “MJ would love to meet you,” he said quietly. “Plus, we have a guest I’m sure you already know.”
Unsurprisingly, there was a lot of hugging involved when the two Peters stepped through the glowing portal. Peter-One and Peter-Three ran at each other and collided, with the taller one spinning the younger one around in a circle as they both laughed.
“Look at you!” Peter-Three exclaimed, ripping off his mask as he stepped back to look at his younger self. He made a wavy-hand gesture at him. “I like your suit!”
The younger one beamed. “Thanks! I based it off yours. And his.” He nodded to Peter-Two, who smiled knowingly at the revelation.
“You rock it, but what happened to the nanotech?”
Peter-One’s face fell and Peter-Three’s mouth made a little ‘o’ even though he didn’t know what caused the reaction. “O-Oh my bad, I shouldn’t have asked-“
“Let me get you a towel,” Peter-Two interrupted, clearly trying to distract them. He had hung up his coat by the door and was heading up the stairs, presumably to a bathroom. “You’re uh, dripping on the carpet.”
“Oh! Sorry, let me just, um-“ Peter-Three mumbled as he took a purposeful step out of the carpeted space of the living room and into the tiled kitchen. He came face-to-face with a heart-shaped face framed by shockingly red hair and wide blue eyes.
Mary-Jane looked up at him with a broad, cheeky smile. “Hi,” she raised an eyebrow, “You’re taller than I expected.”
Peter-Three froze, staring at her like a deer in headlights. “Uh, hi. You’re…”
“Mary-Jane,” she finished, just as he blurted out “-beautiful.”
The woman laughed, caught off-guard. “That’s cute, you’re much more open than my husband.” She made a motion like to hug him, but then noticed that he was dripping with rain and decided to offer her hand instead. Her nails were painted red, just like her hair. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter-Three. And… thank you, for helping save my husband a few months ago.”
Peter-Three blushed furiously as he shook her hand. “We all would have done the same.”
Mary-Jane softened, looking between the two young faces that were unfamiliar but familiar at the same time. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “I know.”
A towel hit Peter-Three in the face and he scrambled to get it off. “HEY!”
“Stop flirting with my wife and wipe yourself down.” Peter-Two sounded smug as he came down the stairs.
“I was NOT-“
“I heard you, super-hearing remember?”
“Listen, it’s 2024, you can totally compliment people without-“
Peter-One looked back and between his bantering older selves with wide eyes, then glanced at MJ helplessly. “Uhhhh… Can I help you? Somehow?”
She grinned, ignoring the other two as she moved toward the oven. “Your aunt raised you well. Help me slice the bread.”