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Miguel O’Hara is fucking insane. That is what Margo realizes today.
What else do you call someone when they’re catapulting on all fours after another person?
What else do you call someone when they’re so mad they nearly tear a hole into the distorting fabric of reality?
Insane, that’s what you call them.
Miguel O’Hara is insane. So much so that she doesn’t trust him to not rip Miles into pieces. So much so that she can’t bring herself to restart the system and trap Miles here with Miguel.
She lets Miles go. He disappears into a disorienting cage of colors and the hole Miguel was tearing snaps shut. It’s horrifyingly silent. Margo places a hand over her mouth and takes a few steps away from the controls, desperately hoping that Miguel’s burning glare doesn’t swivel onto her.
He can’t hurt me, she reminds herself. There’s no way. I’m not even here.
It takes her a moment to realize she’s crouched low to the ground. It takes her a longer one to force herself up, stumbling over to overview the center of this clusterfuck. Miguel is—Miguel is dead quiet, back facing everyone. He’s breathing so hard she can see the spasms from here.
And then it starts. The next scariest thing she’s seen today.
Miguel breaks shit. Expensive technology, some stuff they need for the Go Home machine and the control room. The sound of it ripping apart cuts through them all like razor sharp talons. Margo winces away, her anxiety climbing higher and higher in her chest.
He starts to storm off, something about going after Miles and from what Margo can see, she really doesn’t like that look on his face. She watches through terrified eyes; watches Gwen summon some crazy courage to try and talk him out of it, watches as everyone else — all the adults who are supposed to do something — refuse to back her up. Even Peter B. Parker.
I can say something. Should I say something? I need to. I can’t just—
Her thoughts cut out when Miguel rounds on Gwen. Cold horror rolls through her. That look—that look isn’t normal. Miguel looks murderous. She remembers how he tried to tear everything apart to get to Miles, and she realizes he probably is.
She needs to do something. She has to, but she can’t get herself to move. Her avatar is frozen. She is frozen.
Margo is unbelievably terrified.
As Miguel practically forces Gwen to the edge, their conversation fuzzy in Margo’s ears, she realizes what’s going to happen. She sees it in the way Miguel goes deadly still and straightens up, calm but burning with anger. She—she doesn’t know what to do.
Here was supposed to be better. Here was supposed to be her escape.
But now? All Margo wants to do is tear off the headset and never come back to this screwed up place. Curl up in her bed and eat some chips and listen to her parents fight because shit, at least it isn’t whatever the hell Miguel is doing. Her stomach is rolling, and she thinks she’s going to be sick if this goes any further.
It will. That’s the worst part.
She can see the way Gwen’s shoes scuff against dirt and—and the Go Home machine is right there. No one is going to help her. Gwen is alone. She shouldn’t be. Someone should say something. Margo should say something, she really should, this isn’t right in the slightest, but her words are a tangled web in her throat, and she can’t move.
Margo blinks, shudders. And then the gigantic mechanical spider is moving, pulling at Gwen’s limbs like she’s some kind of toy, bringing her all the way back into that distorting cage. Margo’s body tries to kick into motion; she whirls around, stumbling a bit over her feet and frantically wondering who is manning the control. And then she sees Lyla there, quietly hovering around it, making sure this goes through.
Gwen is doomed. There’d been the slightest hope that maybe Margo could intercept this and give Gwen some time to run away, to escape, but with Lyla there? It’s impossible to stop it now.
So Margo helplessly looks back at Gwen, getting as close to the window as she can because all she can do is watch.
Her hands are shaking hard and fast, like they’re about to vibrate into nothing. She can barely see Gwen through all the blinding colors, but she can see Miguel just standing there, not even caring. Not giving a damn even though he knows — like how they all kind of knew, what with how frantic Gwen got when the topic of home came up — Gwen shouldn’t be going back, and that it’s horrible to do that to her when they could leave her here or something.
Something other than this.
“We’re supposed to be the good guys,” Gwen spits at Miguel—at all of them, at herself.
Margo takes a shuddering breath, and Gwen is gone. Just like that. Just like Miles. Everything is deadly silent again. She’s stuck staring at the empty space where Gwen was, those words slipping under her ribs like a knife.
The good guys. Spider Man is supposed to be good.
What the hell are they doing?
Things happen. Things like Gwen Stacy showing up and talking to her and casually dropping the bomb that, hey, can you please help me with this Margo, you don’t even have to follow me it’s just a real quick thing and I trust you because I saw you let Miles go. Margo is shell shocked one moment and helping the next, listening to Gwen as she lists off a plan and how they’re going to help Miles, because, yay, he’s in a different universe!
Not yay. Margo had realized that before Gwen even showed up, and she’d felt like such a damn disappointment. She hadn’t even been able to help him properly, and he could be in legit hell for all she knew. Guilt ate at her like worms. Even now, she isn’t really able to shake it off entirely; there’s a part of her that’s still so pissed at herself for not speaking up for Gwen or Miles, even though she knows she really couldn’t have done anything, that Miguel would have sent her away too because apparently it’s what he does when someone disagrees with him.
“I have ideas,” Gwen says, pacing with her hands on her hips. “I think—I think I know where to start. Sorry for dragging you into this, but I really needed your help. I already have some people lined up to do the rest, so I swear you don’t have to do any more for me.” She sucks in a sharp breath at the end.
Margo shakes her head. “Seriously, it’s fine. I want to help.”
And so that happens. Eventually, all the preparations are finished and Gwen is thanking her up and down again, getting ready to leave and fight an uphill battle. Margo bites her lip, darts a look down at her watch, what it used to represent, and thinks, I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.
So.
“I’m coming with you,” Margo tells Gwen, forcing herself forward and stuffing down any hesitation. “You know how good I am with tech stuff, and…” she trails off, biting her digital lip. “I’m sorry. I should’ve stood up for you and Miles sooner.”
Gwen quickly shakes her head, hugging herself. “I don’t—I don’t deserve an apology. This is all my fault.”
“All your fault?” Margo quirks a brow. “Were you the one trying to hurt Miles for wanting to save his dad?”
“That’s not what I mean, I… I should’ve warned Miles. Should’ve seen him more. Should’ve stood up for him when he needed me. I should’ve known it was possible.” Gwen folds in on herself even more — Margo didn’t even know that was possible — and looks away.
“Okay. So you screwed up.” She shrugs, placing a hand on her hip. “I did too.” Margo reaches out and grabs Gwen’s shoulder; when Gwen looks up, Margo smiles at her. “Solution? We stop wasting time feeling bad for ourselves and get to fixing it.”
“Oh.” Gwen reaches up, and Margo realizes she’s wiping away a watercolor tear. “Yeah. You’re right.”
Margo balls her other hand into a fist and playfully mimes punching her shoulder. “’Course I am. I was one of Miguel’s girls in the chair for a reason.”
Gwen laughs wetly; her eyes are still tired and there’s a fragility to her that’s definitely new, but she looks just a bit lighter. “I always thought you were pretty cool for that.”
“Huh?” Margo blinks, feeling both her avatar and real body kind of flush like she’s a dork who flatlines at a compliment. Then she smiles again, except this time it’s bigger and makes her cheeks ache. “Funny. I thought you were pretty cool yourself.”
They both laugh. It’s nice in a way she didn’t think would be possible at the kinda-maybe end of the world/multiverse/who even knows anymore. Maybe the odds of the whole making the impossible possible thing aren’t so stacked against them after all.
After a few more impromptu adjustments and some reassuring that uh, yes, obviously I meant it when I said I’m coming with you guys, they’re off.
And you know what? Margo is pretty sure they’re doing the right thing.