210. A Carol To Second Chances. (Patreon)

Gwen POV:

MJ is a part of my life.

Just not the kind you scrapbook.

We met in middle school. Back when life was simpler and crueler in ways you don’t understand until you’re older. We founded the band Murderface because subtlety was for cowards and we thought being loud made us powerful and like all I'll planned middle school decisions it didn’t last.

MJ’s narcissism slowly tore it apart. Rehearsals became about her, yrics became about her. Any meaningful feedback became “you just don’t get my vision.”

We drifted from small concerts in small clubs and diners to small scale competitions until we broke up the band because it just wasn't working.

Then Visions Academy happened. She reconnected first and rebranded us as The Mary Janes.

It was a small concession the rest of us and by us I mean me, Betty and Glory made. One name change in exchange for collaboration and to her credit? She kept her word. She listened. She incorporated our riffs, our melodies and or suggestions.

We got good.

We got popular.

We became “cool.”

And that’s when she turned vicious toward Peter without no apparent reasons.

Back then, I was the new Spider-Woman. No training manual, no mentor. Just bruises and adrenaline.

My web-shooters? Peter made them.

I gave him a hypothetical. “If someone were to swing from buildings using synthetic webbing, what properties would it need?”

He disappeared into the chem lab.

He came back with a formula using high school supplies. It took me six months to learn how to make it myself. Science isn’t my superpower. I hit cymbals and punched things well. I don't calculate tensile strength ratios for fun.

Betty liked Peter. Glory liked Peter. Even Murderface the cat liked Peter.

Sure, he was arrogant. Still is but only in matters of science.

Outside of that? He was gentle and sometimes awkward.

He’s never been wrong when he flexes his brain. That’s the annoying part for others but for MJ it was wholly different.

I didn’t know it then but MJ’s hostility was rooted in something else. She was trying to win me over. She turned out to be a lesbian in a world that doesn’t even have a visible LGBTQ precedent. Earth-65M is… different. Our USA never had much of a radical Liberal party just a regular Liberal party and it never occurred to them to levy the idea of same sex marriage.

I couldn’t reciprocate. One, I’m not into girls that way, two, I loved Peter and three she jumped up and down in manic joy when Peter was crippled.

What kind of monster celebrates someone’s permanent injury? Peter always helped us with band's planning and budgeting and if we were short he lend us the money from his scholarship savings.

That moment burned whatever friendship or goodwill I had out of me towards her.

But time does what time does and now here we are.

She stepped into the penthouse holding a box of chocolates like an offering to some petty goddess of forgiveness.

“Hey there, Gwenny.” Her wave was hesitant.

I gave her a polite smile. Before anything heavy could land, Betty and Glory launched themselves at me.

“Missed you so damn much, you Irish goofball!” Betty grunted as they tried and failed to topple me.

“Damn girl,” Glory laughed, “ditching your girlfriends for that Parker booty? Even when he’s two-timing you with Spider-Woman?”

I smirked.

“Can’t blame Peter. She’s got luscious booty.” They exploded in laughter.

For a second, it felt like high school again. Then MJ’s voice cut through.

“Hey Gwen?”

“Yeah, M?”

She pointed across the room.

“Don’t mean to sound crazy… but I think there’s another pair of you and Parker in a tickle fight.” I followed her finger.

Scarred Peter and Gwen-65-B were in a full-blown tickle war on the carpet.

“Oh, you’re African American in this world too, Em Jay?” Scarred Peter wheezed between laughs. “Hope you’ve been less of a bitch to this reality’s Peter than you were to me.”

“That’s rude, Pete!!!” Gwen-65-B gasped as he mercilessly tickled her ribs.

I coughed to hide a smile.

“Oh, they’re just alternate universe counterparts. Multiverse stuff. Also? I’m surprised you didn’t notice Tony Stark and Pepper.”

Tony waved lazily from the couch. Pepper smiled warmly.

Betty and Glory froze. Their Mental OS rebooting.

Tony Stark and Pepper Potts were icons and l in their own right and then there was my husband.

Peter sat at the dining table eating another stack of pancakes with sweet cream butter and maple syrup like he wasn’t basically a living myth.

MIT built him a statue. Students rub its feet for exam luck.

He didn’t sue for idolization. He bought Games Workshop instead.

Apparently because a certain fictional God Emperor storyline hit too close to home and he’d rather own the copyright than fight it.

That’s Peter. God of technonerds and still messy with syrup.

MJ’s eyes drifted and she froze again.

Mary Jane Watson-Parker from Earth-616-B was crouched nearby, laughing softly as she played with baby Mayday.

I saw the realization hit Em Jay like a freight train. Peter came behind her in a blink using his Sandevistan and gently nudged her forward.

“Go.” He murmured.

Sometimes he’s like that.

Harry Osborn POV:

Felicia helped me to the couch like I was made of glass.

I still felt hollow.

Extremis flush does that to you as it turns out. It makes you feel like your insides were wrung out and hung to dry in the scorching sun.

Clanker had informed me I could salvage anything from Oscorp Tower except the Genetics Division.

Peter plans to turn it into a Spider-Woman museum.

Honestly? It’s poetic. In exchange for helping dismantle Oscorp’s rot, I got seventy-eight billion dollars and a Manhattan skyscraper and the Patrioteer armor.

Peter called it “nothing special.”

To me?

It felt like redemption forged in steel.

A chance to prove I’m not a locust devouring Parker fields.

The doorbell rang. I dragged myself up and opened it Standing at the door was mom and a man with two little kids.

She grabbed my face immediately. “Oh Harry, are you alright?”

Her eyes were wet.

“I’m fine, Mom. Just… less fine than regular fine.”

She stepped inside cautiously.

“Harry, what happened?” She asked.

“Oh nothing,” I said lightly. “Did something stupid. Got slapped by Peter. Not physically.”

Her expression flickered. Her face flushed with that old mix of hate and admiration.

Peter was everything Dad wanted me to be and everything Dad despised at the same time.

She sighed.

“For six years, I was selfish and before you assume I’m not here because Oscorp got swallowed by Parker Industries. I don’t want money. I just… want to be in your life again.”

I looked past her.

The two kids clung to the man’s coat. “Those my step-siblings?”

She nodded and nudged them forward.

The boy spoke first, shy. “My name is Arnold Theopolis Kirk.”

The girl bounced. “My name is Lily Theopolis Kirk!!!”

I knelt slowly. “My name is Harold Theopolis Osborn. But call me Harry. And I’m calling you Arny and Lily.”

They hugged me instantly and I wheezed in pain because my entire body was sore on a cellular scale.

Felicia appeared from the kitchen. “Harry? What’s happening?”

The moment they saw each other there was awkward silence.

I stood carefully. “Mom, this is Felicia Hardy. My girlfriend and I'm planning to marry her.”

Felicia blinked, then composed herself with feline grace.

“Mrs. Kirk.” She said smoothly.

“Osborn—Kirk.” Mom corrected softly.

The man extended his hand. “Richard Kirk. Emily’s husband. We brought home-cooked Christmas meals. Enough for everyone.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Didn’t mean to treat you like background furniture.”

He chuckled. “Son, I walked in expecting shouting. Maybe a punch. This? This is better.”

The penthouse felt warmer suddenly. Not because of money or the Patrioteer armor but because something broken might finally be trying to heal.

And for the first time in my life?

My path doesn’t feel like it’s pre-written by Norman Osborn’s shadow.

It feels like mine.