With my heart in my throat, still and unmoving, I watched her fall amongst gears and pieces of broken metal, and I couldn't even think when the web flies from its slinger. All I could do in the agonizing seconds was pray that it would catch Gwen, and not a metal gear. The margin for error was so impossibly small, that it couldn't exist. Even as helpless as I was, I would not allow for any errors in that moment.
"Gwen!" I would shout down to her, my voice erupting from the centre of my heart, the centre of my being. The sound echoes down the tower, and just as hope was lost, she would lift a trembling hand and clutch the web that I had cast down to save her. I would finally be able to release the breath that I had been holding, and swing down to her, where she would be dangling from a beam. Taking her waist in one arm, I would let us down to the floor, where we would fall into each other's arms, our trembling legs unable to support us individually.
For a long, long time, neither of us would say anything, and we would just hold each other tightly. Gwen would choke back a couple sobs, and I'd feel like crying as well. Swamped with grief and guilt, and also relief. The information that I had learned about my father would seem so irrelevant now, pushed so far back in my mind that it would be entirely possible to forget the whole thing. I'd try to think of a sassy comment for when one of us decides to speak, but that's always been Spider-Man's thing. Peter Parker is serious and riddled with sadness and conflicted with every damn thing. So when the mask comes off, so does his confidence.
"I'm so sorry," I'd say finally, holding her head against my chest and taking in the smell of her hair, feeling her shoulders move up and down as she breathes, as if I still have to convince myself that she's alive. She wouldn't speak for what feels like ages, but I wouldn't mind. We'd have all the time in the world, because we'd both be alive.
"You have nothing to be sorry about," she'd say finally, drawing away so that she can look at me, with eyes that would be blurry with tears that threaten to spill over her eyelashes. "I should've listened to you. But we're both okay- let's focus on that for now, alright?"
I can't expect her to be so understanding, so ready to help me despite her near death experience. Because we weren't okay. Only one of us came out of the clock tower alive, and neither of us were okay, no matter how many times I think about what would have happened if she had survived.