The Spider Brothers 2:
The Eternity Gems
PenPatronus
Chapter 9
Untitled Chapter That's
the End of the Story
There was no time or direction in the Vastness between life and death, and Peter didn't have a body anymore. Yet he turned his back on his brothers' voices, and was determined to do so forever. Peters One and Two sometimes sounded sad, often anxious. They begged him to wake up, to come back to them. They threatened him, even tried to bribe him with Kit-Kats and his own pony. They were stubborn. They would not. Stop. Talking.
Three times he almost turned around and returned to them. The first time was when a third voice explained that the knife Lyra wielded was so sharp, and thrust with so much speed and strength that it sliced his spinal cord in half and there was no way even Spider-Man could recover from that. Peter Three almost went back because he wanted to prove that voice number three was wrong.
The second time was when he heard Peter One ask Peter Two why Peter Three wasn't fighting. "Doesn't he want to live?"
Peter Two went quiet. Three imagined the face he was making—eyebrows slightly flexed, lips tight, nostrils flaring, eyes narrow. "I think," he said, "that Peter is in pain, every day… And he doesn't go looking for a way out but he… He doesn't fight it when there's an opportunity."
The third time was when it was just Peter Two speaking to him. He was angry. More than once he called Peter Three a son of a bitch. "Here's why you're going to wake up today," Two said quietly after shouting so loud for so long. "You're going to wake up because I told him—I told my son who you are—That you're Spider-Man. He doesn't know who Peter One is, he doesn't know who I really am, but I told him who you are. I told him you're strong, and brave, and that you won't be defeated. He's rooting for you, and if you die, it will break his—our hearts."
Peter Three's arms relaxed where they were knotted tightly against his chest.
"You're an uncle," Peter Two said before he went silent for a long time. "Peter… I want you to meet my kid."
Though he felt a little guilty, Peter Three didn't turn around. He didn't owe anything to the kid, to Peter, to either of his brothers—to anyone. If he wanted to stay in the Vastness, they he damn well would.
"Hey, tiger."
THAT voice – THAT he would never ignore. What remained of Peter Three whirled around and – holy shit – there she was.
"Gwen?" he gasped.
She was there. Suddenly her hands were in his. He dipped his chin and their lips met. And it was like the pilot light in Peter Three's soul reignited.
"I missed you—" they said at the same time. Both smiled. She giggled and blushed. Peter felt like he was floating.
Then she shook her head at him, and gave him the same look you'd give a child who couldn't understand why the square block wouldn't go through the round hole. "Why are you here?" she whispered.
"I…" Peter's entire being was vibrating. "I got hurt. Spider-Man stuff. And it was the best thing that ever happened to me because you're in my arms again."
Another kiss. Longer. Stronger. She broke it off.
"Peter, why are you HERE?"
Peter rubbed her upper arm with his thumb pad. He shrugged, and looked at her nose instead of her eyes. "I don't know..."
Gwen put her hand against his cheek. "You should either be there, with me," she said, and gestured over her shoulder. "Or there, with them." She pointed behind his shoulder. "Not here. Never here."
He shook his head and whispered, "I don't understand. I'm supposed to be wherever you are. If that's here, then I'm right where I should be."
"You need to decide," she told him—gently, but somberly. "You have to make a choice."
He nodded vigorously. "You. I choose you. I'll always choose you."
She sighed. "That's not what I mean. You have to make THE choice."
He sighed, too. "Do I want to live or die…"
"Close." Gwen used her forefinger to lift his chin higher. "People always think that's the choice they're making. But that's the second question you have to answer. What you have to decide first is whether you're done or not."
He shook his head, hair leaning left and right. "Done?"
"Are you done?"
"Done with what?"
"Done LIVING."
"Isn't that the exact same question?"
"Some people die at 25 and aren't buried until 75," said Gwen, quoting Benjamin Franklin. "If you're done living, then alive or not, you might as well be dead. If you're ready to live again then alive or not, you're living."
Peter blinked. "I'm so confused."
Gwen cupped his cheeks with both hands. "You haven't been living since I died. You need to live again. Whether with me, or with them. I need you to live again. Will you?"
Peter's bottom lip shook. "I forget how," he whispered.
"They can show you. If you let them. I want you to consider something." He nodded. "I know you want to be with me. And to be honest, I want that, too. But I got to experience a happy life before I died. I died happy. I want you to have that experience before you're with me again. I can't make your decisions for you, but I want you to consider that."
Peter gulped. "You want me to go back. Back to being Spider-Man."
"I want you to go HOME," she clarified, "home to your brothers. I'll be waiting for you. We'll have forever together. But first I want you to live again."
He stared at her. She was so beautiful, inside and out—her whole being. "I'll try," he promised her. "I swear I'll try."
Peter Two and One's voices sounded closer.
"One last thing, Peter."
He kissed the top of her hand. "Anything."
He couldn't define her smile. "When you get back home, you might hear a woman call you 'Tiger.' I don't know if it will happen tomorrow, or 10 years from now. But you pay attention to her. You hear me?"
"Tiger?" Peter snorted.
Gwen squeezed his hands. "Promise me." She was nothing but serious. "I want you to be happy. So, promise me."
Peter looked so deep into her eyes that it was almost mesmerizing. "Ok," he whispered. "All right. I promise." He took one last long look at her, then turned on his heel and walked towards his brothers' voices.
He woke up in the bottom of a bunkbed. "Not where I expected," he said out loud with a sore throat and a raspy voice. There was a pillow under his head—a pillow in a Spider-Man pillowcase. And there was a Spider-Man poster on the wall to his left and on the bed above him.
"Benny's bedroom," said a voice. Not Peter's, and not Peter's. A woman. Peter Three looked to his right and found a slim redhead sitting in a wooden rocking chair at his bedside. "He's a big fan of yours."
Peter put two and two together. "Technically, a big fan of your husband."
Mary Jane Watson-Parker smiled. She scooted the chair closer to his bed, reached over, and pinched his arm.
"Ow."
"You felt that." She pinched his other arm. "And that?"
"Is there a reason why you're hurting me?" MJ peeled off the Spider-Man comforter and sheets and pinched Peter's stomach, waist, hips, knees, feet, and toes. "I'm not paralyzed."
MJ sat back and folded her arms. "Prove it."
Peter Three sat up and promptly banged his head against the upper bunk. His feet were wrapped up in the blankets, and he cursed as he rubbed his bruised head and kicked himself free. MJ's jaw dropped when he stood up—clad in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt—and gestured at his intact body. "See?"
"That alien cut your spine in half!" MJ shook her head, astounded. "You're amazing." Then she stood, opened the bedroom door, and called for her husband. Peter Three chuckled at the sound of pairs of feet stampeding up a flight of stairs. Two men and one boy entered the room: Peter One, Peter Two, and a 10-year-old kid with his mother's hair and his father's eyes.
"Aw, man." Peter One rushed forward and nearly tackled Peter Three with his hug. "Dude, I thought you'd never… Never mind."
Three shrugged. "I thought I might never, too," he admitted. "You ok, little bro? Aliens didn't shish-kabob you, right?"
"Shh!" One hissed. He put his forefinger against his lips and widened his eyes. "How could that happen when I wasn't there?" he said way too robotically.
All eyes landed on Benny, who stood halfway behind his father. His Spider-Man t-shirt was glow-in-the-dark. "It's ok, Ben," Peter Two said. "You can say 'hi.' Meet Spider-Man."
Peter Three stood straight and stretched his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow, looked the kid up and down, and then asked—in his most serious voice—"You look after your mom, don't you, kid?"
Benny—whose eyes were so wide that Peter Three thought they might bleed at the seams—nodded slowly. "And my dad. He's pretty old."
Peter One, who had moved aside to stand next to MJ, burst out laughing. MJ did the same, and they clung to each other as they cackled. Peter Two sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Good man." Three crouched down in front of Benny, dropped his serious façade and grinned. He held up his hand and offered a high-five.
Benny, smiling wide, emerged from behind his dad and slapped his hand. "You're my hero," he said, almost embarrassed.
Peter Three smiled back at the child. "You wanna know who my hero is?" he asked. Benny nodded, and Three leaned in and whispered to him—knowing perfectly well that the other spider men could still hear him—"Your dad."
Benny's jaw dropped. Astounded, he looked up at his father, back to Peter Three, then at Peter Two again. Peter Two gave Three a grateful smile. Then, he reached into his back pocket and—to Three's shock—took out a bottle of beer. "You're feeling better?" he asked quietly.
Peter Three took the bottle. "Does this mean we're actually going to sit down and talk about our lives? Like, like normal brothers?"
Two answered by giving Three a tight, long hug. When they parted, Three looked closely at the beer, frowned, and announced, "It's warm!" He held the frown for a moment, then broke down laughing. He threw his arms around Peter Two and embraced him again, then they both opened their arms and Peter One joined the hug. The three brothers were together again.
The End
It was a pleasure writing for you!
I hope very much that you enjoyed this story.
I sure hope that we get to see these boys again.
Love, PenPatronus.
