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Gwen Stacy was someone that was hard to forget.
She had been his best friend, the woman that he had loved. He would have done anything for her because he had loved her. He never wanted to be apart from her, and even though she was now gone, he thought of her every day.
How could he not when he was the reason that she was no longer alive.
When it was his actions, his failure, that had caused her death.
She was the ghost that haunted him, just like her father had (and all these years later, he wished he had listened to him, had listened when Captain Stacy had told him to leave Gwen alone because if he had then she would be alive), lingering in the corner of rooms.
She was the ghost that haunted his every nightmare, leaving him unable to sleep at night.
The image of her body, broken and hanging there from one of his webs was one that he wouldn’t ever forget. And as horrific as it was, it was one that he wouldn’t want to forget.
Gwen’s death.
It had been his first big mistake.
His first true failure.
He had thought that the web would save her, that after the trauma of everything they had been through with Harry and Max, they would remember it as another adventure they had had. The time they had saved the world city once again.
But that hadn’t happened.
She had fallen, the world slowing as she did so , and though he had tried so hard to save her, he hadn’t been good enough. His web, the fall, the ground… altogether it was just a horrific combination of timing and his actions that had led to her death.
It had changed him.
Made him into a different man.
He stopped pulling his punches.
He was angry, resentful at both himself and the world. It was so unfair, so unjust that someone so innocent, someone who had their whole future ahead of them could die in the most horrific of circumstances.
He wanted the world to hurt as he hurt, to feel the pain as he did.
So when he saw MJ fall, he froze.
It was exactly like Gwen had fallen.
The world slowed once more as the memory overcame him.
He watched Peter (her Peter) jump to save her, reaching out to take her hand.
No.
At the worst possible moment, Osborn (must he always be tormented by an Osborn?) went straight into her Peter, preventing him from saving her and he knew - he knew - that he had to do something to save her.
Anything to save her.
And this time, he had to succeed.
He had to save her because the alternative…
No.
It wasn’t worth considering.
The pain.
The guilt.
The burden he carried wasn’t going to be one that anyone else carried. Nobody needed that. The pain that weighed on his shoulders, crushed him like Atlas carrying the sky was one that nobody should know so when she was falling and nobody could save her, he jumped.
He jumped and put everything into it.
He willed himself to fall faster, for gravity to pull him down quickly so that he could reach her before it was too late.
The moment he could, he pulled her into his arms, sending a web up to slow the rest of their descent, and moments later, his feet touched the ground.
He had done it.
He had saved her and in that moment afterward when she was asking if he was okay, even though it was her that nearly died, he broke. The composure he had had, the adrenaline that was now coursing through his veins, had burnt away and he just broke.
A sob tore through him because he had done it.
He had saved her.
The very action had seemed impossible to him only hours ago, that he could save someone from a fate like Gwen… But he had done it.
He had managed to save her, and she was safe here, in his arms.
And maybe… maybe whilst this wouldn’t bring Gwen back it showed that he wasn’t as bad as he thought he was.
Maybe he could start to heal.
Take this as a step forward, rather than being stuck in the rut he had been stuck in for all these years now.
The grief and the burden that he carried… maybe it was one that he didn’t have to carry anymore. And if he had to carry it, then maybe it was one that he wouldn’t have to carry alone.
Not anymore.
And maybe, just maybe, he was as amazing as the other Peter thought he was.