Green sludge swirls around and around, creating a small tornado in the beaker. Gwen is transfixed, completely enraptured by her creation. The liquid feels alive in her hands, heated and angry as she finishes mixing. She thinks it wants to yell at her. Leave me alone, it would say, haven't you done enough? And really hadn't she? Gwen was so close to destroying her life that it was freeing. She just needed to finish this—potion, she guessed—for Harry and then she could succumb to oblivion.
"You should hurry, Gwendolyn." His voice calls out to her and she shivers. The strength is fading, and the sound splitting like too-dry wood. The part of her that still feels, feels pity. The rest of her just closes her eyes and prays that she can finish this.
"Don't you think I'm trying, Harry?" The tumbler steams in her hands, spitting smoke. Gwen inhales for a moment. No matter what it is used for, it is all hers. That is one thing Harry can never take away, he cannot take credit—not that he wants to. No, he prefers the world to know that Gwen Stacy created his "goblin juice," that she made the monsters terrorizing New York City. And he is excited that the actual recipe will die with her, that the only way to concoct the dreaded serum is by taking a sample of his blood. This last injection is the answer to his prayers. He will no longer be weak or frail, but strong, invincible. He does not know that it will kill him, that Gwen will kill him and be glad to do so. The disaster will die with both of them.
She grabs the syringe, eyes it with distaste. All her years interning at Oscorp reduced to this moment of playing God. Never had she thought to use science to destroy. Gwen remembers the little chemistry from her mother and father. That Christmas morning had been uncharacteristically brilliant. The sun cut through every shadow of the towering green pine, finding her eyes underneath its overlapping branches. She had been so excited to share this holiday with her new baby brother that they had slept among the wrapped gifts and sharp needles. Together Gwen and Gary had huddled into a single sleeping bag, giggling into the dawn as they waited for Santa. For too long they had tried to keep their eyes open until their lids crashed onto their puffed under eye circles and fell into a fast sleep. They awoke in delight, finding that along with the sunlight, they were greeted by a new pile of presents. Older Gwen felt slightly abashed at her younger self's delight in Santa! But it was a child's nature to feel excitement, to believe. Just because she had become disillusioned along the way did not mean she forgot a previous love of magic. And there was magic in that chemistry set. Gwen had magic in her fingertips, in the ability to make things bubble and spark and change color. She and Gary squealed in delight as their parents helped them create new substances.
That awe only grew as Gwen learned to read and could see how things were made. The next Christmas was set of chemistry books, and the one after that a gift certificate to the science supply store, since she knew more than her parents about what she needed. Gwen didn't know when, but somewhere along the way, science had become an irreplaceable part of her life, almost a member of her family. When she was confused or lost, she would turn to one of her many books and find the answer. It was concrete, it was stable, and one day she knew she would contribute.
Of course, that was how this whole mess started. Harry's cough had scared her, she could literally feel the wheeze that cut through his ribs and strained his throat. They had been friends for so long, hanging from the monkey bars together since pre-school that she knew she had to help. It didn't hurt that Harry's father had access to the best science facilities in the nation. Not only would she get to save her friend, but she could pretend she was a real scientist. So many dreams being fulfilled at once.
And then there was Dr. Connors; a legend in the field of biogenetics, an imaginative thinker, making insane strides in the field. Some days Gwen could only watch him with the same awe from her days of the chemistry set, her eyes wide in appreciation as he scribbled equations on the white board with his single steady hand. Maybe she should have known that a mind so brilliant would eventually turn. She had seen ideas bounce around his brain so quickly that, when trying articulate, his words would overlap and jumble. Gwen would laugh at her admired professor, "please slow down before you break the sound barrier," and he would chuckle along with her. Then he would break down each thought, explaining slowly so she could take notes or type into the simulator. What a pair they had been, both more human than analytical robot. They understand the life repercussions of their research, Harry never far from her thoughts and his non-arm an invisible reminder. Even after he had gone crazy, killed her father and let her Peter be blamed, Gwen stilled liked to turn over the mental snapshots of her second father. Somewhere, he still lived, trapped inside his own mind. She had thought that one day she might help him too. The antidote for his body could help his brain, she just knew it. But she had run out of time.
"Gwendolyn. You're trying the very little patience I have left. There's no point in stalling any longer, your boyfriend isn't coming. Your father is dead. Oscorp is my domain. What are you waiting for?"
"Harry, you know as well as I do that you have to let this cook. Otherwise it could kill you." Months ago she would have swatted his arm, more teasing than begging. But now she needs these last few minutes. Yes, she is going to kill him. But she plans a death that is instant, painless. Gwen has no taste for suffering or torture. And she still has a few things to do.
"I am invincible, Gwen. You have made me immortal! I hope you will take comfort in that. Now, give me that." His hand spastically tremors as he tries to grab the beaker. Luckily the goo is thick enough not to spill immediately over the sides as she raises it out of reach. It just oozes to the lip and threatens to fall. Gwen looks away, knowing that if any drops to the floor Harry will drop to his knees and lap it like a dog.
"You can't inject yourself" she says while turning her back to him. He is too slow, too sick to follow her movements and just huffs impatiently. It takes a minute for the gunge to drip painstakingly into the syringe. The clock ticks loudly, every passing second Gwen reminds herself to cherish.
She first thinks of everything she is glad to be leaving. Never again will the pain in her mother's eyes haunt her dreams. Gwen's continued support of Spider-Man will no longer rip the last shreds of Helen's heart. No more screaming matches that the boys break up by webbing their legs with the newest "Spider-Man" silly string from the drug store. Their tears will stop staining legal documents and homework and every available piece of furniture. Gwen will never have to face the pitying looks of her friends when they mention that their boyfriends are meeting their fathers and "won't that be horrible, Gwen? I mean…" No more seeing Peter's cuts and bruises after nasty fights, no more yelling at Flash to grow up, no more worrying about getting into college.
Without realizing it, tears spill down her cheeks. They slip past the curve of her nose, track down her cheeks, and choke her. Openmouthed, angry sobs threaten to kill her before Harry does, before the Green Goblin does. Gwen idly wonders where the rasping is coming from, that throaty howl of a wounded alley cat.
"Gwendolyn, don't be so dramatic. Really, I promise you won't feel a thing." Harry wobbles closer, his hand hovering just above her shaking back. Before she can scream at him not to touch her—salvation.
"I swear to God, if you lay a hand her I'll kill you"
The one thing Gwen knows better anything: the sound of Peter's voice.