(Spiderman) The Amazing Story of Altered Fates: Chapter 2 – The Amazing broken man (Patreon)

Chapter 2 – The Amazing broken man

Her beautiful blonde hair was just as he remembered it, maybe a little shorter now. But still, it reflected the sun with a glow that only Gwen Stacy could emit.

Her blue eyes were large, bright, and beautiful, holding so much intelligence behind them as well as love and compassion.

Her ruby lips stretched into a smile Peter couldn’t remember seeing for a long time. Her eyebrows frowned in the same cute way they always did when something confused her.

All in all, this was Gwen Stacy, but she looked older. Not that he minded—the years had only done her good. If she was beautiful before, she was stunning now, and she had that new and special glow that enticed Peter even more.

“Hi, Dad,” the woman said sweetly to the trapped man.

Oh, this angelic voice Peter missed so much. For the longest time, he had been haunted by her voice. Every time he heard it, it was her screaming his name while falling from the tower. He had forgotten how melodic her voice could be during such a casual greeting.

Peter wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if this woman was a pretender or not. But she couldn’t be the real Gwen, could she? How would that be possible?

Peter felt frozen in place while these questions ran through his head, competing with the images that kept trying to flood his mind.

Then those big blue eyes were aimed at him, and she asked teasingly, “Really, Bug-boy? Do you hate that window or something? You just replaced it a couple of days ago after you broke it.”

The words were so ordinary. Mundane daily issues that shouldn’t have brought so much warmth to Peter’s heart, but still, they did. For a moment, Peter allowed himself to bask in the warmth and forget his aching body.

But then the way she called him began echoing in his head. Bug-boy. He remembered the first time she called him that. When he crawled through her window after fighting the Lizard. They kissed, and when he tried to go for another kiss, she breathlessly called him that for the first time.

Since then, it had become her nickname for him in private settings. And that’s exactly the problem. It was private. No one but him and her knew about it, so that must mean…

From a frozen state, Peter could feel his shaking body moving forward on its own accord. As he got closer to the woman, he could smell the lavender scent he always associated with her.

When she was within his reach, he began raising his hands to her face while whispering disbelievingly, “Are you really here? Are you real?”

Gwen smiled softly at him. She reached for his hands and took them in hers before setting them on her cheeks, allowing him to feel her skin.

The moment their skins touched, he sucked in a breath, still not willing to believe it was actually happening. But then she spoke with that soft musical voice of hers, “Yes, Pete. I’m real. I’m here.”

Those words broke all of Peter’s defenses. His body began shaking worse than ever, and his legs gave out.

He sank to his knees in front of her, and his face buried itself in the woman’s soft stomach. The material of her shirt felt expensive and overly soft against his skin.

“Oh, Peter.” Her voice sounded so sad and yet caring that it broke his heart a little more, knowing he was causing her even more pain now.

Peter wasn’t sure when he started, but by the time he noticed, both his face and her shirt were soaked in his tears, and his throat ached from the unstopping sobs. Gwen was running her hands softly through his hair.

Peter began to shake his head in denial while saying mostly to himself, “You are dead! I saw you die! It was my fault!”

Peter felt her soft hands sneaking around his neck before she pulled him deeper into the damp material of her shirt. Her own voice was wet as she tried to soothe him, “Shhh, honey. It was never your fault. I am here. I am alive, and I’ve got you.”

Peter wasn’t sure why she was crying. Maybe she was a figment of his imagination, reflecting his own heartbreak. Yes! Peter finally figured it out.

He pulled his head back and looked up at the sad big eyes above him. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, a relieved look crossing her features. With a slightly mad tone, Peter said, “You are a dream. All of this is a dream! It makes so much sense. I’m sick, aren’t I? That’s the reason for the headaches, for you and your dad. I am sick, and all of this is a hallucination.”

Gwen’s face fell, the concerned look returning. She slowly touched his cheek with one of her hands and said softly, “This is not a hallucination, Pete. We are real. I am real.”

Peter could think of only one thing that would explain both everything he knew and everything that was happening now. Peter wasn’t sure if he should be happy thinking about such a thing. But it was hard to feel anything other than happiness with Gwen holding him like that.

The smile he gave Gwen obviously unnerved her if her sudden frown was any indication, but Peter ignored it and spoke in a dazed voice, “Then I’m dead. That weird magic thing killed me instead of sending me home.” Peter dropped his head back onto the damp shirt and said with a muffled voice, “Finally, we can be together again. Forever.”

Now Peter wanted to cry happy tears. He didn’t care if he was dead. He had the love of his life back in his arms; his heart could finally heal again. But then a sharp pain at the back of his head caused him to look up at Gwen.

The woman’s eyes were narrow as she looked at him, and she said firmly, “Don’t say things like that. You are not dead, and neither are we. And you better not die on me anytime soon, Bug-boy.”

Bug-Boy. That word caused the headaches to come back again. This time he saw an image of himself and Gwen lying in a bedroom he didn’t recognize, together snuggling. And he could hear her whispering, “A family, Bug-boy.”

Peter’s hand flew to his forehead, and he tried rubbing it—anything to ease the pain slightly.

He heard Gwen sigh with a small smile on her face. She said, “Well, at least now we can be sure what your problem is. I have two friends that should drop by soon and help explain everything to you, Pete. How about you stand up and go sit on the bed while I free Dad?”

Peter was in a daze as he slowly managed to pull himself up on the edge of the bed and sit there.

He looked at Gwen as she opened a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a familiar tube—a web remover Peter created himself after getting stuck in one of his own webs.

Peter could only see Gwen’s back as she worked to free her dad’s hand, but he noticed she was wearing a familiar jean jacket with matching jeans and sneakers. George, of course, was wearing his usual black and white suit.

Mr. Stacy caught his eye and smirked at Peter, saying, “You are lucky my daughter loves you so much, son. I have three other boys, so if not for that, you could have been expendable. Also, there is the ba—”

“Dad! Now is not the time!” Gwen cut him off by admonishing him in a way Peter had never seen her do before, but she was obviously practiced in.

But it was too late. The words were said, and Peter dropped his head back into his palms as the pain in his head spiked again. A picture of himself with three other men raising a drink with a smile while they were all wearing fancy suits. Peter recognized the older Stacy man, of course, and a voice in the back of his mind told him the other three were Gwen’s brothers.

But since when was he so close to them? Out of that one awkward dinner they all had together and the funerals, he barely interacted with them.

His head felt like it was pulsing, and his ears began to ring. But then he felt a weight drop onto the bed next to him. The next thing he knew, soft hands brought his head to rest on an equally softly covered shoulder.

Gwen rubbed his forehead slowly and gently as she spoke to him soothingly, “It’s okay, babe. Just don’t think about it. Don’t think of anything other than you and me right here and right now. Soon we will have you fixed, I promise.”

Peter choked on a sob before whimpering, “I don’t want it to end. Please, you can’t leave again. I was so broken. I still am.”

Peter heard her sniffling and could feel something wet dropping on his head. “I promise, Pete, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you,” she said in a choked voice of her own before hugging him even closer and whispering, “We will fix you; we will stay with you.”

Another body settled itself on Peter’s other side. His right arm reached all the way behind him to grab Gwen’s right shoulder while the left arm held Peter. George Stacy was holding both of them in a tight hug while reassuring Peter, “We got you covered, son. You are never alone.”

After a few moments of all three of them staying in a tight hug, both Gwen and her dad pulled away, and Gwen said, “We should go down to the living room. Our guests should be here soon.”

Mr. Stacy stood up in front of Peter and said, “You go ahead, honey. I will give Peter a hand and make sure we get down in one piece.”

Gwen gave the man her usual sweet smile and said, “Thanks, Dad.” Then as she left, she called over her shoulder, “Be gentle with him.”

Both of them exchanged looks, but neither was sure who she was talking to.

Peter grabbed the offered hand in front of him and was pulled to his feet. Not that it did him much good; his body could barely withstand the never-ending shock of the day.

It was ironic. He survived a battle with eight interdimensional villains, but seeing the woman he loves and her dad almost killed him. Peter had to lean on Mr. Stacy as they walked down.

As they were going down the steps, Peter looked at the man next to him, and before he realized it, he was opening his mouth to speak. “Mr. Stacy…”

The man smiled at him, amused, as he said, “You haven’t called me that in almost a decade, Pete. Call me George or Dad if you want. You’ve been doing it for the past few years.”

Dad?! He’s been calling George dad? How, why?

But as Peter began thinking about it, the headaches began increasing. Peter decided to try speaking again. What came out was a confused voice asking, “You don’t hate me?”

They had just reached the last step, and the older man froze. He gave Peter a horrified look. “Hate?! You are one of my sons. I love you like one, Peter. Why would you…”

The man couldn’t even finish the question, but he began moving again until they reached the new sofa in the corner of the living room.

Actually, Peter noticed during their walk that the entire house, while looking similar to the way he knew it, had an entirely new set of furniture in every room, including the kitchen from the glimpses he could get.

When Peter was seated, he answered the man’s question, “I always thought that you… that he did. After all, because of me, he died, and I ignored his last words, so Gwen died too. I always believed he hated me; I could never blame him. I hated myself too.”

Peter heard a sharp gasp and looked up to see Gwen standing there, holding a tray with tea and cakes on it. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she looked like she had just been hit by something very heavy.

She took a deep breath and set down the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She turned toward Peter and opened her mouth.

But before she could speak, the doorbell rang.