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Miles had dealt with his fair share of trouble.
Villain of the week after villain of the week, petty theft, cats in trees, bank heists, etc etc. It was New York, so Murphy's law applied there ̶d̶o̶u̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶t̶r̶i̶p̶l̶e̶ quadruple what it did anywhere else. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong 10 times over in the worst way possible. Take last week for example. He’d been out for a late night swing and just so happened to come across what he thought was a lost child in the park. So he had swung down to go help the kid. The kid was NOT a kid, but a full grown, very short adult, who did not appreciate it when Miles bent down and said “You lost, little man?”. In Miles’ haste to get away from the tiny lady (now taking hits at his knees with her purse), he’d shot a web at a sleeping pigeon, yanking the startled bird out of its tree and into Miles’ face.
Miles, knees bruised and face feathered, eventually managed to swing away…directly into a lamppost.
That was nothing new. That was an average Tuesday in New York for him. He would almost say he’s gotten used to it at this point. He was Spiderman. He could deal with anything thrown his way and then some.
Right?
Swing. Catch. Swing. Catch.
Miles fell into a rhythm, throwing out web after web, catching himself just as gravity started to take its hold every time and pulling himself back into the sky, like a bird with its wings, or a bubble keeping itself afloat amidst the breeze swirling around it.
Brooklyn was alive with light, noise and motion. Below, a car honked in response to another, someone shouted, people laughed, Christmas lights flickered on, and Miles was above it all. He wore a scarf and his usual jacket to block out the bitterly cold air, and the tails of the scarf waved behind him with every swing like twin flags. He didn’t care what Peter said, he still thought a cape would be sick. Though, apart from looking cool, did they really serve a purpose? Why did superheroes wear capes in the comics originally? It wouldn’t add any mobility or aerodynamics. Maybe for the same reason Miles wanted one: Because it was dope.
A burst of commotion startled Miles out of his thoughts, and he jerked his gaze to the source. Below, there was a herd of people gathered around a building, all looking straight up. Many had phones, some using them to film whatever they were seeing, others speaking into them with urgency. Miles followed their line of sight and found the object of attention.
There was a person on top of the roof. They’d climbed over the guard rails and were standing on the precipice of the ledge.
And they were ready to tip forward at any moment.
Miles didn’t waste a second. He zipped over immediately, landing in a crouch on the rail as gently as he could as to not startle them into letting go. They swung their attention to him.
“Hey, uh…you doing okay?” Miles said, even though they clearly were not. He could see now that it was a woman, maybe a 5-ish years his senior, unfamiliar to him. Her brown eyes were bloodshot, panicked, possibly on drugs. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly with her breath. She was dressed in a short sleeve, ratty jeans, and no shoes, despite the icy cold air evident from the way her breath clouded. Her dyed red hair whipped around in the wind.
She didn’t respond, jaw trembling either with the way her teeth were chattering, or the sobs audibly gathering in the back of her throat.
Miles inched closer, near enough he could stop her if she tried anything drastic. Even from up here, he could hear the busy chatter of the people below like white noise if it made your nerves go crazy.
“You wanna take a step back maybe? Behind the guardrail?” Miles said over the buzz.
She shook her head, turning back to stare at the ground far, far below. “Don’t t-try to stop me. I know what I’m d-doing.” She said through chattering teeth.
“Of course. And that is?”
“Killing m-myself.” She answered bluntly.
“Why?”
The woman tensed. “None of your b-business, asshole.”
Miles stayed quiet for a moment. The wind swirled, caressing them, making Miles shiver. If he was cold, even in his thermodynamic suit, this lady had to be freezing.
“Well, then…I can’t let you do that.” Miles said, sitting on the rail.
The lady didn’t turn her attention away from the ground, glaring at the sights below her. “Why can’t you j-just leave me alone?!”
Miles shook his head. The girls glare darkened.
“Y-you don’t even know me! Why would y-you care- why would anyone care?! LOOK AT EVERYONE DOWN THERE, THEY’RE JUST FILMING ME! THEY’RE WAITING FOR ME TO JUMP, SO WHY SHOULDN’T I GIVE EVERYONE WHAT THEY WANT?!” Tears now streamed down her face, mapping rivers to her chapped blue lips as she choked on sobs.
For just a second, the buzz of chatter quieted to hear her, silent and on edge. Miles didn’t know if they’d understood her from all the way down there, but they held her words like glass.
The glass shattered and the noise started up again almost just as quickly.
Miles shot a look at the crowd below, wishing they’d all go the heck away. There was a police officer or two there now (including his dad, he noticed), but they seemed to be trying to judge the situation before jumping in, probably hoping Spiderman had this under control. Miles gestured at Officer Jefferson to shoo the crowd away.
His dad seemed to get the hint, and he and the other officer began to tame the gathering of people.
Immediately, the atmosphere calmed significantly, but not completely. The girl was still on the ledge, staring at the crowd as they drew back. She glared at them.
He’d heard that one was supposed remind a suicidal person what they had to live for, but he had no idea who this girl was or what she did or did not have going for her.
He started there.
“What’s your name?” He asked gently, praying for cooperation.
For a moment, Miles was worried she wasn’t gonna answer, as she stared at the slowly migrating crowd below, but then she let out a mumble.
“...A-amie.”
“Amie?” He was getting somewhere. “That’s a cool name, Amie. I’m-well, I’m Spider-Man.”
“I know.” Amie responded.
“Right. ‘Course.” Miles rubbed his neck beneath the scarf. “Tell me about yourself. How old are you?”
“N-ninet-teen.” She said through chattering teeth.
“You in college?”
She shook her head. “D-dropped out.”
“Oh. Yeah, well, I get it. Schools tough. Sometimes you just gotta strike out on your own to figure things out.”
She shrugged. Miles took notice of how she was holding herself. She kept her arms hooked around the bar of the guardrail, leaning back instead of forward, and her breathing was less frantic than earlier, but maybe that’s just because it was quieter. Miles stayed close just in case.
“You got any pets? A dog, a cat? A fish maybe?” He asked.
She slowly nodded. “A c-cat. His n-names Miles.”
“Miles is a good name.” Miles the human agreed. “How long have you had him?”
“M-my parents got him for me as a m-moving out gift.” She answered. She bit her lip, glancing again at the ground, where the officers were still backing people away from the scene. Miles crept closer.
“Yeah?” He prompted. “When did you move out?”
“In September, f-for school.” She answered. “The r-rest of my family lives in Idaho. I g-grew up there. Never had been outside the state. I w-wish I had never left. I wanted to major in theatre, b-but I can barely pay rent. I’m working two j-jobs and I don’t have time for a single lecture, let alone the money f-for classes. I’m a shitty actress anyway.”
She leaned her head back, staring up at the marbled gray sky. “I just don’t h-have the energy to care anymore. Me and my cat are going to f-freeze to death in my stupid studio apartment. He’d probably be better off if he r-ran away and found some nice family to take care of him or-or something- oh my gosh, my cat-” She cut off, coughing.
Miles moved closer. He tentatively put a hand on her shoulder. She tensed slightly, but relaxed after a second.
For a moment, it was just the howling wind that spoke, carrying the sharpness of winter with it. Amie shuddered, shifting her bare feet farther away from the edge.
“...I’m s-scared.” She admitted.
Miles understood.
“...You wanna move back onto the roof?”
Amie pursed her trembling lips. Then she nodded.
Miles, using the greatest of care, guided her as she swung her legs one at a time over the rail and onto the roof.
She collapsed to her knees the second she was stable, quivering like a leaf.
“Here.” Miles took off his jacket and scarf, wrapping both around Amie, who accepted them. “You’re doing great, Amie.”
Amie pulled the jacket around her tightly, tucking herself inside. Her face, just barely visible, crumbled, and she finally let herself sob without restraint. Miles just sat next to her, hand perched on her shoulder in a way he hoped would be comforting.
“I wanna go home…” Her voice broke. “I don’t wanna die. I-I wanna curl up with my cat in my bed, a-and be warm, and watch TV, and not worry about how I’m gonna afford rent for just a few minutes…I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss being a kid.” She curled up tighter. “I’m so scared…”
Miles didn’t feel like a superhero right now.
He could punch any bad guy in the face and stop bank robberies with a few thwips of his webs, but he couldn’t do anything to help this girl. She was broke, lonely, away from home, and it was terrifying. No amount of webs or punching would fix that.
So he just stayed there with her, arm around her shoulder. As time passed Amie’s shuddering sobs calmed until they were little more than shaky sighs, and she leaned against him. The sunset grew tired and wore away to a dim night.
Amie’s lungs reverberated with a watery chuckle. “I’m sorry, I got snot all over your scarf…”
“ ‘s alright. I’ll wash it later. I’ve had to wash worse things out of my clothes, like webs.” Miles dismissed.
She laughed, and Miles squeezed her shoulder again.
“It’s gonna be okay, Amie.” He said, and he meant it. “You’re stronger and braver than you realize. You’ll find a way to pull through, I promise. You’re not alone. You may feel like nobody has your back, but…well, you have your back, y’know? You can trust yourself.”
She nodded, the crappy motivational poster pep talk evidently not flopping completely. She wiped her eyes with Miles' scarf. “...I’m sorry to make you deal with all this crap.”
He quirked his head. “Huh?”
“Don’t you have more important things? Like bank robberies or something?” She propped her chin on her knees. “You’ve probably faced way worse crap than I have. I’m ready to die cause I’m scared of the future, but you…you probably have worse things to worry about, don’t you?”
Miles shook his head. “It doesn’t matter whether or not I’ve got stuff to deal with. We’re talking about you right now. It’s not a matter of who has it worse or anything like that.” He turned to face her fully. “You, Amie, are important. You’re just as important as anyone or anything else. Okay?”
She nodded again. He stood and held a hand out to her.
“Come on.” He gestured with his head. “Let’s get you home.”
She took his hand, and Miles brought her to her feet. He took a look below. The crowd had vanished entirely, leaving 2 officers there, still waiting. Miles shot a thumbs up to Officer Jefferson. He gave one back and mumbled something into his walkie-talkie.
Miles turned back to Amie. “Ready?”