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Every night he saves her. Every night he lies in his empty bed and even through the ambient noises of the city that never sleeps, he hears her gasp, a silent scream that rips out of her from the pull of gravity. Every night, against the dark, water-damaged ceiling of his tiny apartment he sees her green eyes blown wide with terror, her arms flailing, reaching towards him. He jumps, he dives, he shoots his webs. Every night he does something a little bit different, every night he finds a way. Every night she falls and every night he saves her.
An older Peter insists that he’s ‘amazing’ but he hasn’t felt that way in a long time. The sun had set forever the night Gwen died and what rose in its stead was a red bitter rage, the only source of light in his dull, broken world. Older-Peter entreats him to have hope, says how despite the struggles, he and his MJ ultimately made it work. It makes Peter think of a Mikey Jay-Watson back home, with his dark hair and strong jaw, handing him his coffee every morning with a dollar change and warm smile.
A younger Peter has pain in his eyes as fresh as the bruises mottling his face. But he has his best friend, and his MJ. Wistfully, Peter watches the way their love bolsters them through the hurt, gives them a place to stand, and strengthens their resolve.
Then he watches her plummet and it’s like all those nights again. There’s that soundless scream, those terrified eyes, that relentless, merciless pull of a fall from fatal heights. Young-Peter doesn’t hesitate. It’s a swan dive that all the Peters in all the universes must have done at some point, when fate is careless with their precious heart, fumbling and dropping it in an inevitable bout of that Parker luck. He watches Young-Peter reach out desperately, so close now, only to be swept away by the Goblin’s hoverboard.
Peter moves without thinking.
It’s a leap he’s done a thousand times in his mind’s eye. His legs push off the platform in one powerful movement to give him that extra thrust. He streamlines his body to cut through the air in a bullet-fast dive. His arms catch her in a secure cradle, one behind her neck and the other on her lower back. He rolls them in mid-air, webs shooting out to slowly lower them to the ground.
It’s a neat landing. MJ is breathing hard, eyes still wide with shock.
“Are you okay?” he asks her.
She nods shakily. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
And every night that’s all he’s ever wanted to hear. For her to say she’s okay, to feel her breathing in his arms. It’s a different world and a different Peter. But this Peter won’t have to live without his Gwen. In the end, they’re all the same. For a moment, those brown eyes looking up at him are a clear, bright green.
Tonight he saves her.