Chapter Text
“Yeah? Join the club.”
He knows it was a mistake the moment they step off of the portal.
Miguel recognized the Spider from Earth-65 almost immediately, had groaned when he tracked the anomaly of Renaissance Vulture to her universe. He can see the screens behind Lyla from that day now, she had been part of the Original Anomaly. He wants nothing more than to leave this girl alone if only Jess hadn’t been adamant when the trio had been in the Guggenheim.
But the way this Spider-Girl (she calls herself Spider-Woman but there’s no way she’s over sixteen, he knows that for a fucking fact) stumbled out of her first multiverse jump and into the budding Nueva York HQ is painful for even him to watch.
She handles herself with grace as Jessica shows her around the facilities. She hasn’t taken her mask off since she put it back on before entering the portal but her eyes stay level, flitting around the place even through the fabric. Jess introduces her to the growing hordes of Peters and puns, Miguel himself stalking behind the two as if to make sure that the new addition to the task force isn’t any more of a liability than she’s already proven to be.
He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. For her to start yelling and throw a fit or something, maybe. For her to break down.
Because he saw it. Well–he heard it. Her last few minutes in her own universe, with her father. The man had pointed a gun at his own daughter. He’d accused her of things that Miguel didn’t want to care about, but the look on the girl’s face had been enough for him to toss her a gizmo in the first place. He hadn’t been able to stand it.
If Gabriella had ever looked at him like that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t know what he would have done.
The thought stops him in his tracks, Jess and the girl moving further away. It surprises him, he’s skipped a beat of breathing. Gabi. His jaw clenches. No–she had never been scared of him (he could only pray). But she had been scared of dying, that much had been obvious as her universe shattered around her and Miguel lost her for a second time.
At least he could keep this girl from her fear.
He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. He was complicating things. This was a kid, but she was a Spider. No special treatment.
Miguel catches up to her and Jessica soon enough, just as she’s being shown the dormitory areas. “They’re still in developmental stages,” he hears Drew’s voice as he gets closer. “But you get to be the first full time resident! How about that, Gwen?”
Gwen.
“Sounds good,” the girl– Gwen– says slowly, poking her head into the small living quarters. “It’s..it’s nice.”
Jess seems like she wants to say something but within the instant, her phone buzzes. She glances down and sighs, shooting a glance at Miguel. “I need to get home.” She's looking at Miguel but he feels like the slightly apologetic tone in her voice is meant for Gwen. What is for him is the pointed look she gives. It says ‘deal with it.’
“Call me for anything. Both of you,” Jessica says, punching her universe into her gizmo. The geometric portal manifests itself behind her and she steps in, disappearing within the instant. Miguel watches it glitch out of existence.
He stiffens at the spot where Jessica used to stand. What’s he supposed to do? She’s absolutely fine–
Gwen hadn’t even turned away from looking into the room, but she finally reaches a hand up to tug the fabric off of her face, only to bunch it up between her knuckles.
Miguel O’hara doesn’t have a spidey sense. But her hands are trembling. Her eyes are wide and fixed on a point beyond the window overlooking the greenery of Nueva York that he can’t make out. The skin at her under eyes creases over and something about this girl is young, trying to fight against a maturity that the mantle of the spider is weighing on her. It isn’t working.
Maybe it isn’t the suit. Maybe this is normal for teenage girls. Just as soon as the thought surfaces, another one joins it.
Gabi never got to be this old.
So he doesn’t know how to handle it, this kind of distance, this kind of ache that he knows is inside of her, breeding a new one between his ribs. But he steps past her, into the room, and flicks the light on so it isn’t only the sun illuminating it. “You can customize it however you want,” he says tonelessly. It’s a small rectangle of a room, a few cabinets and closet space with a quaint loveseat that leads into a twin bed tucked underneath a window that overlooks Nueva York. It’s full of neutral nudes and beiges that makes both of their…dramatic suits stand out.
She walks in after him, lips gently pursed as she looks around. She’s cautious, tense. It makes sense, he muses. First time in a very strange location. She just saw a T-rex with a web-shooter, she’s allowed to be a little rattled. She moves around, poking her head into the cabinets and glances back to Miguel.
“Am I supposed to recycle this one suit?” she asks slowly. He thinks it's a canon event for all Spider-People to be sarcastic smartasses at this point, for once he finds that it’s a bit of an effort not to smile.
“We have a department. They’ll make you other ones to change into,” he assures her with a wave of his hand, gazing out the window. “And this universe has clothes stores, you know.”
She snorts softly and moves to sit down at the neutral-toned loveseat. Miguel inclines himself to face her a little more, but he freezes at his immediate instinct. To sit next to her. To settle his arm over her shoulder and listen. All the things he had promised himself he would do all those years ago. He grits his teeth, about to leave–
“Does it get better for people?” she asks quietly.
He stops, eyes fixed on Gwen. “Being in the Spider-Society?” he ventures.
“Leaving things behind.”
Oh. It occurs to him that she’s the first person to inhabit the dormitories. Everyone else comes and goes to and from their respective universes. But it was easy to tell from the way she had looked when she turned her back on her father that it would not be her situation. This was her life now, her well-being tied to a watch fixed around her wrist. The only person who’d been through something similar had done it willingly, under better circumstances. And he was right in front of her.
“If what they’re going to is better than what they’re leaving behind,” Miguel says after a bit, voice quiet.
At that, her shoulders quake. Her waterline wells with moisture and his eyes widen by a fraction. “My dad-” she whimpers, one hand reaching up to grab a fistfull of her own hair. “I left him there, d-didn’t I? Do I get to pick this over him? Do I-”
“It doesn’t matter,” Miguel interjects, eyes softer than he’s supposed to let them be but somehow still firm as ever. He hesitates but he moves to step forwards until he’s standing in front of Gwen in her seat. He lowers himself onto one knee so he’s more or less eye level with her. Even then, he’s tall enough to be a head or so above her.
His response surprises her and Gwen looks up at him, searching for answers in the unyielding planes of his face. She starts to say something but his mouth opens first.
“You chose this life a while ago, yeah?” he says, voice softer now. It’s not a question, so he doesn’t expect a real answer. Even when they both know what it is. “You chose this. This is an extension of that decision. That’s how it went. I can send you home right now–” her breathing hitches at that. “but I don’t think that’s what's best right now.”
“...what is best?”
His voice clogs itself in his throat. As if he would know. No. His teeth grits and he reminds himself with a very private grimace that he does. He has to. He has hundreds following him, it could be thousands by the time they finish recruiting. If they ever do. He has to be sure of every action he takes or else everything that they’re doing is for nothing. Everything he’s gone through is for nothing. And he can’t find it in himself to let that happen.
“Making the best of what you can while you’re where you are,” he says simply.
Her mouth tightens in a thin line and he can see the way she screws her eyes shut. It’s so painfully familiar that he can’t help it the way his arm reaches up to tentatively lean on the back of her head. But she knows how fathers act more than he knows how daughters do, so just as instinctually she leans forwards to lean her forehead against his chest. It shocks him, the ease with which he fell back into it. His breath slows as hers stutters and all he can do is rest his hand on the back of her head. His suit is a hologram, but he can feel the moisture of her tears against it. His other hand rises to wrap around her shoulders.
This is highly inappropriate. All things considered, he’s her boss, and he chides himself for it. But she is a child. In a strange place. She’s scared and confused, that’s all he can bring himself to really focus on as she trembles in his arms.
Eventually she sniffles for a last time and brings herself to lean away from him, one of her hands reaching up to wipe her tears off. His arms melt off of her and settle back at his sides as he stands up, clearing his throat awkwardly as he glances away.
“Almost everyone else is part-time,” he says finally as she composes herself again. He isn’t sure what to do so he just looks to the side, hands resting in their comfortable position at his waist. “So if you need anything, find me. Or call Lyla.”
As if summoned, the AI flickers to life next to him, perched on his shoulder. She waves comically and sticks her tongue out at Gwen, who chuckles weakly and nods.
“You…” Miguel takes her in one more time. She’s feeling a little bit better but nothing can take away how jarring of a situation this is. Even he knows that. As much as he needs hands on deck, he can’t bring himself to bark an order. “Take the rest of the day. Jess showed you the cafeteria, make sure you eat. Get some sleep. I’ll have someone drop off some sleep clothes until you go shopping. I’ll drop an order for a few suits for you–”
“Why are you doing this?”
That stops him and he balks at her. He wants to justify the Spider-Society, to explain why he knows that everyone can’t have everything at once. To preach the truth of The Canon. But something in her eyes tells him that she isn’t talking about why he’s doing that. It’s asking why he’s doing this.
And if he had an answer he thinks he would give it to her. But he doesn’t. So he turns on his heel to walk away, out of the room, leaving her seated on the small seat. “Report to my office first thing tomorrow, you’ll get a more detailed briefing and Drew will show you the ropes.”
Miguel can’t bring himself to look at her before he leaves the room.