Chapter Text
Blaring alarms and terrified shrieks litter the crowd below as Gwen dives back into the burning building, enormous plumes of smoke erupting around her.
Where is he? Where is he?
Spider-woman had spent her afternoon pulling people from the top floors of an apartment complex that had caught fire.
Gwen was well aware of the risk she’d be taking with so many emergency personnel nearby, all of whom would be more than happy to apprehend and drag her down to the NYPD.
But so many lives were in danger, so many people who might not be reached in time, that she had to do something. So she settled for focusing on those on the top floors, swinging in and out and settling them down on the ground to safety one by one.
But just when she thought she’d done all she could, a woman with dark wavy curls and a Puerto Rican accent had caught her by the arm and begged her, with desperate, pleading eyes, to find her son. The woman told her that they had been on their way up to visit a friend when the building caught fire and that they had lost each other in the commotion. Her son was a cancer patient mostly confined to a wheelchair and thus wouldn’t likely have made it back down on his own.
There was something familiar about this woman that Gwen couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she pushed the matter to the back of her mind as she shot up a web and launched herself back into the building.
Pushing through the thick black clouds of smoke, Gwen dashed through the hallways. The fumes stung her eyes and tore at her throat. She could barely see a thing.
But she was going to find him. She had too.
“Hey! Anyone here?” She called again and again as she sprinted down hall after hall.
“Over…here,” a weak voice finally croaked amist the smoke.
And there at the end of the hall was a boy, no older than sixteen, slumped in a wheelchair leaning sideways against a wall. One of the wheels lay a couple of feet away on the floor.
Gwen rushed over to the boy, swiftly pulling him out of the broken chair, and hauling the both of them through the nearest window.
The boy gave a yelp as they descended towards the concrete below. When they’d finally reached the ground, both of them coughing profusely, Gwen released her hold on her web and was about to start scanning the crowd for the boy’s mother when her eyes settled on his face.
Gwen froze.
Staring back at her was a pair of big brown eyes. A very familiar pair of big brown eyes.
The same eyes that had sparkled in surprise, embarrassment, and glee two weeks ago when she’d jumped up and given their owner his first kiss, both of them flushed bright pink, as she dove into a portal back to her own dimension.
The same eyes she'd exchanged shy, smiling glances, accidental hand brushes, and awkward giggles with the week after that.
The same eyes she knew shined with spirited determination underneath the red and black mask that she'd spent her weekends fighting crime with over the last two years.
They were Miles’ eyes.
Throughout the time that they'd known each other, Gwen and Miles had wondered about the possibility of meetings their dimensions' versions of each other. But the chances were so low that neither one had given it much serious thought. Gwen certainly didn't expect to be rescuing an alternate version of the boy she raced across rooftops from a burning building.
But here he was, right in front of her.
Gwen took in the rest of the boy’s appearance. Instead of the unruly mass of dark curls she was used to seeing atop Miles' head, his hair lay in thin little wisps, patchy, and almost entirely gone in some places. His complexion was ashen and sickly, and his frame was unsettlingly thin, as if a sturdy gust of wind could snap him in two.
At first glance, he was nothing at all like the Miles she regularly swung across the New York skyline with.
But his ears still stuck out a little bit, a few light freckles flecked across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and his eyes sparkled wide with amazement.
Yep, this was definitely Miles.
His name had barely passed her lips in a whisper when a desperate, strangled cry came barreling through the crowd shouting for him.
Gwen finally snapped back to her senses and stepped back as Mrs. Morales gathered her son in her arms.
“Miles! O mijo, me asustaste. Ay Dios mio, estas herido?” She exclaimed with tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.
“No mamí, I think I’m okay,” Miles said, doing his best to hug her back. “Esta bien. Thanks to her.” He gestures to Spider-Woman with a smile.
“Oh thank you! Thank you so much!” Mrs. Morales said, reaching for Gwen's hand.
“Anytime, Mrs. Mor- uh ma'am.” she stuttered catching herself a second too late and hoping the older woman wouldn’t notice.
Thankfully, she didn’t. Instead, she gave Gwen a warm smile. “We need to get over to the EMT, but is there a number or something I could contact you with? We’d love to have you over for dinner, it’s the least we could do.”
Gwen's heart warmed. It sounded like something the Mrs. Morales she knew would say.
Last year, when Miles first introduced Gwen to his parents as a friend he’d met from school (which was technically true), Mrs. Morales immediately welcomed her with open arms, delighted that her son had made a new friend, and then proceeded to invite Gwen over for one of the best home-cooked meals she’d had ever had.
And now, dinner with the Morales-Davis family had become somewhat of a weekend routine for her. Around Mrs. Morales, Gwen could almost remember what it felt like to have a mother.
It seemed no matter the dimension, Rio Morales was a beaming light of warmth, kindness, and compassion. Some things, it seemed, just didn’t change.
The offer was tempting, but then Gwen caught sight of the boy in front of her who looked so much like and yet so unlike her best friend. She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about a masked stranger intruding in his house.
“I-uh I’d love to but I don’t know if Miles-“
“Are you kidding? You saved my life!” the boy exclaimed. “‘Course it’s cool with me. More than cool. It’d be awesome!”
“Plus, I’d get a chance to properly thank my hero,” he added with a chuckle and a semi-jokingly flirtatious wink.
Gwen couldn’t help but laugh and he laughed along with her.
“Well, it’s settled then” Mrs. Morales beamed. "I’ll call you tomorrow after work?”
“Sounds great. Thank you,” Gwen said.
“No dear, thank you.” Mrs. Morales replied.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Gwen smiled turning to Miles.
“See ya.” he nodded with a smile of his own.
With that, Gwen rattled of her cell number to Mrs. Morales and shot a web into the air zipping out of sight.
But she made sure to linger just a bit longer at the top of a nearby building to make sure the two got to the paramedics alright.
---
The next day, Gwen showed up to the address Mrs. Morales had texted her, fully dressed in her mask and suit.
She had told her dad not to wait for her because she’d be spending the evening with MJ and the girls, but she suspected he knew otherwise.
Mrs. Morales opened the door to let Gwen inside and Miles, now in a brand new wheelchair, waved from the table.
That evening Gwen had dinner with them and got to know this version of the Morales family.
She'd learned that Miles had stage three spinal cancer which left him without much energy to get around by himself.
She learned that he loved art and typography and that he dreamed of being the best graphic designer in Brooklyn.
“Since I can’t get around much, art is kinda like my escape y’know? It’s how I speak up for myself since I can’t stand on a rooftop and scream it,” he had told her.
He’d even shown her a few of his designs, all chaotic and lively colors with bold graffiti letters that burst with life and exuberance, not unlike the ones her own Miles had shown her.
There was one drawing of his however, that shook Gwen to her core. It was in a wooden frame placed lovingly at the center of the living room table. She’d seen this one before.
It too used bright, eye-catching colors but it held a much softer tone. It wasn’t jumbled and chaotic; it was quite simple. A deep green and blue background with orange 3D lettering and a portrait of a man in the middle.
It was nearly an exact replica of the mural her Miles had made in memory of his uncle. Only, when she looked closer, Gwen realized this one had the initials J and D on either side of the man’s portrait. He had short black hair and a thin mustache, his large circular sunglasses were down on his nose, and a good-natured smile outlined his features.
Miles’ dad.
Underneath the portrait, scrawled in purple pen it read, “Jeff Davis, husband, father, brother, hero. Rest in Power.”
“He died two years ago in a shootout” Miles explained solemnly. “Saved my uncle's life. He was a hero. Kinda like you.”
——
That was three days ago.
Now, it’s mid-afternoon and Gwen is sitting on her bedroom floor with her arms wrapped around knees and a painfully familiar, dull, bitter ache in her chest.
Two days after her evening with the Moraleses, Gwen had received another phone call from Mrs. Morales, this time to tell her that Miles had died.
It had all happened so fast. He had come down with an agonizing headache and was rushed to the hospital. There, the doctors confirmed that the cancer had spread to his lungs and brain.
It took his life the next morning.
Rio asked Gwen to come to the funeral knowing Miles would’ve wanted her too.
So she agreed.
She hung in the back, dressed in a long black coat over her suit, and kept her head down hoping not to draw attention to herself. She figured if Spider-Woman strolled in dressed in full gear, people would begin to notice. And that was the last thing she wanted when this day was supposed to be about Miles. She was just here to pay her respects to her friend like everyone else. It was only after everyone else had left that Gwen took her mask from her pocket, put it on, and approached Mrs. Morales.
It must have been an odd sight, a masked superhero in a trench coat, but the older woman didn’t seem to notice. She merely pulled Gwen into a hug and thanked her for the few extra days she’d given her with her son.
But it had all been too much for Gwen. After bidding Mrs. Morales goodbye, she’d rushed home, her head pounding and the ground slightly swooping beneath her feet.
Gwen's mind spun violently with thoughts of the last time she’d bid a friend goodbye forever.
The memories of that awful, awful day pummeling her like falling boulders. Aunt May’s heartbroken cries, Uncle Ben’s haunted expression, and the faraway look on Harry's face when he gazed at his friend's body in the coffin, as if he just couldn’t will himself to believe it.
But her most vivid memory was the indescribable guilt that wracked Gwen's entire being knowing that she was the one who caused all of this grief. All of those faces.
And today, she’d seen them again. Aunt May’s pain reflected in Mrs. Morales’ eyes and the stunned, disbelieving silence of the man Gwen had recognized as Miles’s uncle. There it was all over again.
And though she hasn’t caused it this time, there was something else that scared Gwen in a way she couldn’t explain. The fact that the boy lying in that coffin was her best friend.
Well, he wasn’t technically, but he was.
No, he wasn’t Spider-Man. They hadn’t saved the multiverse together. But he was still Miles.
He had that same easygoing smile and eye-roll worthy, but endearingly cheesy and smart sense of humor. The same talent and passion for his art, and that beautiful, contagious spark in him, that lit up the room around him and never went out.
In the short time that she’d known this boy, Gwen had been able to connect with him so quickly because she already knew him.
Seeing him like that, with his big brown eyes permanently closed, and that spark flickered out forever felt like a warning. Like a reminder that everything she touched, everyone she’d ever let herself care about, would inevitably be ripped away.
Peter had only been the beginning. After that, it was her dad, with whom she was still barely on speaking terms.
And now this.
Next, Gwen feared, would be Miles. Her Miles. Her best friend of the past two years. The one she spent almost every weekend with. The one that despite her absolute best efforts, had weasled his way past her all of her apprehensions and doubts and straight into her heart. The one who’d been able to break down a few of her walls and get her to consider opening her heart to friends again. The one who knew, cared for, and accepted her more than anyone else in the multiverse.
And losing him...
Gwen can’t do it. She can't.
The walls around her seem to be expanding farther and farther apart and she feels as though she's falling. Down down down into a dark, endless chasm all alone.
Gwen is all by herself in the apartment. Her dad is out on duty and she's just so alone.
A bitter pool of loneliness collects in her stomach and burns her from the inside out and it hurts. It hurts so bad.
If she stays like this, she fears this feeling will come up and swallow her whole, drag her down past the point of no return, and drown her. Again.
So before she realizes what she’s doing, Gwen is dialing -BKLYN NY d-1610- into the device on her wrist, the pattern ingrained into her fingers tips at this point, and smashes the go button.
The familiar multi-chrome dots swirl around her, morphing into a portal, and she falls in.