240. The Courage to Hope. (Patreon)

Peter Parker-120703 POV:

He did it. Against all logic, common sense and morality itself perhaps Peter Parker of Earth-65M actually convinced Aunt May and Helen to agree to the resurrection of Uncle Ben, Captain Stacy and Gwen.

I stood on the terrace overlooking the skyline of New York while police sirens wailed faintly somewhere in the distance below. The city looked peaceful tonight.

But little did anyone know that the plan of a resurrection was about to happen inside a penthouse apartment.

The cold wind brushed against my maskless face while I leaned against the railing.

Inside the apartment Peter was apparently “brainstorming optimal resurrection legitimacy protocols,” which honestly sounded like supervillain nonsense and somehow... That terrified me more than the resurrection itself.

Because Peter wasn’t insane rather he was rational and rational men carrying cosmic scythes were somehow infinitely scarier.

The terrace door slid open behind me. “Sup, Spidey?”

I didn’t even need to turn around.

“Man...” I muttered while staring at the skyline. “I still can’t believe Gwen Stacy could become a punk drummer.”

There was silence behind me.

Then... “You think I don’t know what you’re doing, Parker?”

Busted.

I finally turned toward her.

Gwen sat upside down atop the terrace ledge like gravity personally offended her. Blonde-pink hair hung downward while her ocean-blue eyes narrowed knowingly at me.

“What am I doing, Gwen?” I asked innocently.

She pointed directly at me. “You’re dodging.”

“I am not dodging.”

“You absolutely are.”

She flipped upright effortlessly before hopping down from the ledge.

“You’re doing exactly what my Peter does whenever emotions become complicated.”

“That sounds slanderous.” I said.

“It's the truth.” She countered.

I snorted weakly but she didn’t laugh instead she folded her arms and said, “You’re scared.”

Straight to the heart without any hesitation or mercy.

Spider-Gwens apparently specialized in emotional violence.

“What exactly am I supposed to say here, Gwenny?” I asked.

I gestured helplessly toward the apartment.

“Your husband just casually walked into my life carrying resurrection technology like he’s picking up groceries or worse this is a Dungeons and Dragons game.”

She stayed quiet. So I continued.

“Yes, I build gadgets. I make web shooters, tracking systems and little engineering projects but I’m not him.”

Her expression softened slightly.

“My Gwen was the brilliant onem She landed an Oscorp internship during her second year of high school.”

The smile that was on my face disappeared instantly when Gwen groaned dramatically.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“Why are you saying that like she ascended Mount Everest?”

I stared at her blankly.

“She got into Oscorp at sixteen.” I clarified.

“And?” Gwen asked.

“And that’s incredibly impressive.” I clarified again.

Gwen rolled her eyes so hard I genuinely worried they’d detach from her skull. “Parker, internships suck.”

“What?”

“They’re unpaid labor with fancy wording.”

I actually laughed. “That’s not...”

“It absolutely is,” she interrupted aggressively. “Do you know how many times I practiced drums until my fingers bled because I thought I wasn’t good enough?”

“I once played thirteen hours straight because something felt off during rehearsal.”

I blinked slowly.n“Thirteen hours?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds medically dangerous.”

“Probably but that's not the point. Peter eventually came downstairs and pointed out one cymbal was loose.”

I couldn’t help laughing and she softly punched my shoulder.

“My point is,” she continued, “stop putting your Gwen on some untouchable genius pedestal. She was a person, Parker. She had flaws, insecurities, bad habits and weird little obsessions that she probably would've taken to her grave and those flaws are part of what made her Gwen.”

The city noise faded into the background.

I thought about Gwen staying awake three nights straight studying for exams she already knew she’d ace. About how she chewed pen caps while thinking, about how she always corrected grammar during arguments and how she snorted whenever she laughed too hard.

God... I missed her.

For the first time in years... The memories hurt a little less.

“You’re right,” I admitted.

Gwen grinned immediately. “I know.”

“I hate how confident you are.”

“Skill issue.”

I shook my head while laughing softly.

Then exhaled deeply.b“You know what the worst part is?”

“What?”

“I think I stopped myself from moving forward because being miserable felt safer.”

I leaned against the railing again.

“If I accepted happiness... if I accepted another chance...” I swallowed hard. “Then what does that say about all the people who never got one?”

The question had haunted me for years.

Why me?

Why did I survive?

Why did I deserve another chance when Gwen didn’t?

But Gwen answered instantly.

“It says nothing.”

I looked toward her.

“You getting another chance doesn’t invalidate anyone else’s suffering.”

Her voice became gentler. “Parker... grief isn’t some competition where you’re only allowed happiness if everybody else gets it too.”

The wind swept through her hair. “You’re allowed to heal.”

I closed my eyes and then finally nodded. “I’m done feeling guilty for surviving.”

Gwen smiled proudly. “There’s the Spider-Man pep talk ending.”

Then she walked back toward the apartment before pausing near the doorway. “Oh and Parker?”

“Yeah?”

“If you reject the absurd billionaire death wizard husband’s gifts, I'll personally beat you unconscious.”

I barked out a laugh. “Noted.”

She pointed finger guns at me then disappeared inside.

I stayed on the terrace for a few moments longer before following her back in and immediately walked into absolute chaos.

The drawing room looked like a war council mixed with a family intervention.

Peter stood near the center holographically projecting possible resurrection publicity strategies while everyone else looked increasingly horrified.

“Why,” Helen asked slowly, “would you need a ceremonial marching band?”

Peter looked offended. “To establish legitimacy.”

“That doesn't explain the marching band!”

Peter activated another hologram. “Picture this. Resurrection procession through Manhattan escorted by two hundred Spartan IV supersoldiers in ceremonial armor while fifty F-302 exoatmospheric interceptors conduct synchronized aerial flyovers and the UNSC Infinity renamed PIAS Infinity blocks out the skyline overhead.”

Then Aunt May quietly asked, “Peter dear... why?”

Peter looked genuinely confused by the question. “Because I’m resurrecting the dead.”

Howard blinked.

“You’re saying that like it’s a school science fair project.”

Peter pointed at him approvingly. “Exactly. Optics matter and that's the reason if you invent a star ship and present it at the school science fair the Soda Volcano would win.”

Helen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Peter, let’s try being reasonable.”

Peter gasped dramatically. “I'm being reasonable.”

“No normal person responds to resurrection with military aircraft.”

“That’s because normal people lack imagination and I haven't been normal since 12.”

Gwen walked past me muttering, “See? This is what I married.”

Peter ignored her entirely.

“When I established the legitimacy of the resurrected Peter Parker of Earth-65-B,” he explained, “I temporarily adopted the persona of a villain named Bloodshot and orchestrated circumstances to legitimize the resurrection publicly.”

I blinked. “You WHAT?”

Peter shrugged casually. “Scarred Peter needed narrative stability.”

That sentence somehow raised even more questions.

Howard cautiously raised his hand. “Couldn’t you just... do that again?”

Peter looked deeply offended. “No.”

Everyone froze.

“These resurrections are more important.”

He spread his arms dramatically.

“So final offer: 200 Spartan IVs in ceremonial dress uniforms marching beside the graves while global media witnesses the miracle.”

Helen looked exhausted. “What about us?!”

Peter blinked. “What about you?”

“The reporters! The investigations! The government attention!”

Peter finally smiled and somehow that smile scared me more than the soul-harvesting scythe.

“With Harold Osborn deceased and Oscorp’s board dissolved,” Peter explained casually, “I acquired 58% of Oscorp shares through shell corporations under the alias Mister Seraph.”

The room went dead silent. “You WHAT?”

Peter nodded proudly.

“Your world lacks megacorporate competition like Stark Industries, Roxxon or Hammer Industries.”

He folded his hands behind his back.

“So congratulations. You now effectively possess a global medical, energy and defense conglomerate.”

My brain physically stopped working. “You can’t just GIVE us Oscorp!”

“Why not? It's cheap.”

“Because that’s insane!”

Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. “Hmm, Fair point.”

Then immediately continued, “I’ll also provide a Level-Two semi-sentient Administrative Artificial Intelligence to assist with legal, financial and administrative management.”

Howard stared blankly, Philip looked ready to faint and Simon whispered, “What the hell is happening...”

Peter smiled pleasantly. “Economic diversification.”

Gwen rubbed her temples. “See what I deal with daily?”

I stared at Peter in disbelief.

This man has conquered Russia, owns spaceships, commands supersoldiers, manipulates global economics and now casually handed us a multinational corporation like a Christmas present.

“You’re one crazy Peter Parker.” May whispered softly.

Peter smiled proudly. “I’ve been called worse.”

Helen Stacy POV:

I stood on the terrace beside May while holding a mug of coffee tightly between trembling fingers.

Inside the apartment, laughter and arguments blended together while Peter-65M continued trying to justify resurrection parades and military flyovers.

I still couldn’t process him as everything about him felt impossible.

The glowing toxic-green spinal prosthesis beneath his skin, the casual discussions about world governments, the way he spoke about military conquest like a businessman discussing quarterly profits and yet he also carried flowers for May.

Bought school supplies for my boys and looked at Gwen like she hung the stars themselves.

It was strangely comforting.

May handed me another cookie which I accepted it absentmindedly.

“So,” she asked softly, “what surprised you most about him?”

I laughed weakly. “What isn’t surprising about him, May?”

I pointed toward the apartment. “He literally glows.”

May snorted into her coffee. “Fair.”

I leaned against the railing tiredly. “But honestly?”

May looked toward me.

“What surprised me most...” I hesitated. “...was learning his parents survived.”

“In our world Richard abandoned Peter by dying but in his world... both parents survived and still lost him emotionally and then he had to rescue a sister from a Soviet assassin boarding school.”

The sheer absurdity of the sentence almost made me laugh.

“God,” I whispered. “What kind of life has that boy lived?”

May looked toward Peter inside the apartment.

“The kind that forces people to grow up too quickly.”

We stood silently for a while.

Then finally I asked the question haunting me. “Do you really think he can do it?”

May didn’t answer immediately instead she watched Peter carefully.

Watched the way he listened to the boys, watched how Gwen instinctively leaned against him and watched the impossible confidence in his posture.

Then May smiled softly. “He hasn’t given me a reason to doubt him yet.”

Deep down... I wanted to believe.

God help me... I wanted to believe so badly it terrified me.

I closed my eyes and prayed not as a lawyer, a rational woman and not even as Helen Stacy but simply as a mother.

Please. Please let this miracle work.