"You are an anomaly!" Miguel roared as he pinned Miles down. "That spider wasn't meant to for you! None of this was meant for you!"

"You're wrong!" the man under him shouted back, causing Miguel to grit his teeth. Ever since he'd met this Spider-Man he'd been mouthing off, telling him how he didn't know what he was talking about, how he didn't know what he was doing. How he was smarter than Miguel, could do what he couldn't… he was sick of it all. Of the annoyance that was threatening everything, that was making Gwen and Peter B. question his authority, that kept thinking he had the right to mouth off to him!

His heart was thundering in his chest and not just from the adrenaline of the chase. His brain was on fire, making his sweat. Every nerve was screaming at him to act. Act Act!

"I'm right!" Miguel thundered. From the corner of his eye he saw Miles reaching for his suit and knew at once the danger he was in. That everyone was in. Miles was different from other Spiders, with his invisibility and his Venom Blasts and… and everything! He wasn't a Spider-Man, not really! He was a mistake! A threat to his universe! The powers he had only confirmed that all the more! He was going to ruin everything! Tear it all down!

A threat.

To all that Miguel had been working so hard to accomplish! That they'd all been working towards! A stable multiverse! He had sacrificed so much and this little bastard thought he had the right to tell him he was wrong? That he knew better? What did he know about the multiverse? About loss? About suffering? NOTHING! And yet the little punk came in and thought he knew better? Than him!?

Another threat. Another villain. One that needed to be put down.

Miguel roared, grabbing Miles' wrist and twisting it back before locking his knees around his foe's middle and grabbing his face with his free hand.

"You!" Miguel bellowed, slamming his head into the train. "Won't! Beat! Me!"

He smashed him down again and again, his blood thundering in his ears. All the sounds were falling away, becoming muffled. He couldn't breathe properly. He saw his daughter as she cried out to him and grabbed onto the physical representation of his suffering and dug his claws in. The disaster that had claimed her… it had been given a physical form and he would finally be able to bend it and break it!

"You hear me?! You aren't the hero here! You're the lousy pathetic freak who should never have existed! You aren't special! You are nothing!" Miguel gave Miles one more slam.

He panted. Everything was fuzzy around the edges of his eyes. He felt a touch dizzy and wondered dully if he had hit his head… probably. And he hadn't been sleeping well either. God he was tired. Tired of all this shit. Tired of people questioning him. Demanding he waste time coddling them. Wasting all his energy with their whining.

"Well… what do you have to say about that?"

Miles… didn't say a word.

Miguel sucked in a mouthful of air, chest rising and falling. There was sweat dripping down his forehead and he wiped it away with his hand before it could get into his eyes. But it still clung to his skin, sticky and hot. He rubbed again, frustrated. He couldn't be blinded, not when deal with this villain…

…except he wasn't a villain, was he?

When had he suddenly decided the man was a villain?

He… knew he had been chasing the man through the city. Just like he would a villain. And he was a threat, he knew that as well. But… he… wasn't a villain. He was an anamoly, yes, but that alone didn't make him a villain.

The aderaline from the fight was disappearing from his system yet his brain felt like it was still going too fast, unable to catch up to his thoughts. Yet also too slow… like the world was the train and he couldn't catch it no matter how hard he swung.

Miguel frowned, moving to wipe his eyes again… only to frown as he noticed his hand was sticky with blood.

'Did… did I get cut?' he thought to himself before he looked past his hand… and felt his stomach lurch.

Miles lay limp under him, face tore up by his claws, blood gushing from the back of his head.

He… he looked so young. How young was he? Twenties, right? Miguel tried to remember. He'd read about it. He was young but… he was an adult, right? Because he looked to be a teenager, from how small he was compared to Miguel. God he was tiny. He'd met some small Spiders before but they'd never been so tiny. Maybe it was because he was on top of him, still crushing his ribs?

"MILES!" someone screamed and then Miguel found himself pulled off of the… ('Kid… he's just a kid')… Spider and before he could react a fist drove itself into his cheek. He felt something pop in his jaw but before he could move to counter attack a hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and twisted him so he was staring at Miles.

Gwen was there, mask off, cradling him without a care that her suit was becoming soaked in blood. Her tears flew from her eyes thanks to the winds that were whipping about them, joining with the blood still gushing from the back of Miles' head and the slashes on his face… it had to be someone else's blood, right? Because he wasn't that hurt… just a trick or something… trying to get them to lower their guard…

"This what you wanted?!" someone screamed behind him.

"He… he ran," Miguel said, feeling oddly disconnected from his body. He had been so angry that the K… that Miles had run. That he wasn't listening and thought he knew better. It had driven him to… Miguel tried to remember but it was all a blur. He remembered trying to toss him towards the ground and falling from the tower but that wasn't connected, was it? He wouldn't try and KILL someone… it had to be separate. He had just wanted to stop him… but he was a threat… but he was a kid…

"I wasn't talking to you!" the voice snarled and Miguel saw a flash of pink and heard a baby crying. There… there had been a baby… she'd crawled on him… why was it so hard to remember anything? The red haze of anger and… he tried to piece it together… "Is this what you wanted?!" the voice (Peter… the one with the baby… that's who had Miguel held tight) screamed. "He just wanted to save his dad and you all do this!? This isn't what we talked about!"

"We… we didn't…" someone else, Miguel thought it was Jessica, said shakily.

"WE SAVE PEOPLE!" Peter cried out. "WE'RE THE GOOD GUYS! WE DON'T HUNT DOWN KIDS! WE DON'T KI-" He suddenly stopped and Miguel tried to figure out what he had been getting ready to say. We don't… what? What did they do? Kill? Of course not. They didn't kill. They were the good guys. And… they wouldn't kill Miles. Just get him to listen. Restrain him. He had to listen. If he didn't then… then…

Why couldn't he think straight.

"Oh god," someone else said.

"Stop the train!"

"He needs a doctor!"

"We have to stop the bleeding!"

"No no no…"

There was movement to his left and Miguel turned, the world suddenly moving in slow motion. One of the Spiders, he thought it was one of the ones that had a medical degree, was moving towards Gwen while others were racing towards the front of the train. Doctor Spider, that wasn't his name, why couldn't Miguel remember his name, he knew everyone, reached for Miles' limp body but Gwen just pulled him closing, shaking her head, not saying a word. Her eyes were wide and darting about, her own breathing coming out in gasps much like Miguel's. 'Panic attack' he thought, that was what was worng with her but he still wasn't sure about himself. Someone said something but she just kept shaking her head no. Maybe she couldn't say a word… she was crying really hard.

Everything was coming to Miguel in snippets, as if blinking his eyes took minutes rather than microseconds.

Peter B. letting him go when the Spider-Man with Doc Ock arms suddenly was next to Miguel, grabbing onto his wrists.

Jessica moving towards Gwen, opening her mouth to say something.

Peni Parker crying, another Spider having moved to her mech and patting her shoulder.

Doctor Spider carefully pulling Miles from Gwen's arms, leaving behind a stain of red on her suit.

Jessica's head snapping to the side, cheek bright red.

The horde of Spiders all standing there, shifting awkwardly, looking so lost.

"Miguel… Miguel!"

He blinked and realized that at some point the train had stopped. They weren't at a station… it had stopped by one of the outdoor training area that were designed for learning what to do if there weren't buildings around. Important to know but it wasn't a usual stop for the train. But while the train wasn't moving anymore he was… being shaken back and forth…

"MIGUEL!"

He slowly turned his head and looked to see Jessica holding onto his shoulders, staring at him fiercely.

"Come on, we have to go," she said, not quite shouting but also not talking quietly either. He stared at her, his face feeling funny. Like… gummy.

"What… what's wrong?" His tongue felt thick in his mouth and he was aware his heart was beating far too fast. Lyla would probably tear him a new one for that… she was always worrying about him and what he did to himself in order to push himself further…

"What's… what's wrong?" Jessica demanded. "Everything!" She threw her hands in the air. "I was able to get them to leave but that's only because they were so stunned they aren't thinking straight! But they will be thinking soon and when they do you are in for a world of pain too, Miguel!" She paused, her voice dropping as she looked away from him. "And… me too, probably," she shook her head. "If we're lucky."

"Jessica?" he asked. Why couldn't he think straight?

"Miguel… I need you to focus on me," she said sternly and he nodded. He could do that. That was easy. Simple. Focus on her. "Miguel… I think you are having a panic attack."

"…what?" he asked, face screwed up.

"Breath with me, okay?" her own voice seemed a lot more calm. No… more… controlled. Yes, controlled. And control was good. Miguel liked control. When there was no control bad things happened. Terrible things. That why he always had to be in control. "Match my breathing, okay?"

He nodded. In. Out. Repeat. It made things easy and he realized he'd been hyperventilating. His heart wasn't slamming into his breast bone anymore and his senses seemed to be turning back on, like he was walking through a large house and slowly flicking on the lights, one room at a time.

Jessica was crouched in front of him and he wondered if that was good for the baby. He'd tried to get her out of the field but she'd assured him she knew her own limits. He'd given in, not happy about that, but she had long earned his trust.

"Miguel?" she said. "Can we talk now? Are you with me enough to talk?"

He nodded. "Yeah… we can talk."

"Do you remember what happened?"

He blinked. "Morales tried to escape. We pursued him… someone got hurt?" That part was… fuzzy.

"Miles is being rushed to an ER. He has skull trauma and is bleeding into his brain. That's not all… Doctor Spider wasn't happy with his condition and either were the Med Bots who scanned him. Broken ribs, a lot of damage to his muscles… but that doesn't matter. It's the cracked skull and the swelling in his brain that matter." She stared right at him. "Miguel. He might not survive."

Not… survive?

"He… has to though," Miguel said. "The Spot is a danger. He has to-"

Jessica slapped him.

"Ow…" he said, working his jaw. It really ached… he remembered Peter B. punching him...

"Miguel, would you SHUT UP about your canon events?!" And now she was back to yelling. "The entire Spider Society just saw you try and murder a 15 year old! Half of them were helping! There are already reports of Spiders demanding to go home, they are so disgusted. And the ones that aren't are getting angry. There are reports of fights breaking out. The Med Bots are calling in every therapist they can… this is triggering so many of them…" She shook her head and Miguel realized she was crying. "If Miles dies they are going to be gunning for you and anyone else that you put in your inner circle." She looked away from him. "And they still might even if he makes it. Gwen was very clear that if she ever sees me again my baby will grow up not knowing their mother." She swallowed at that before rallying. "You can't be sitting here covered in blood… when they come to their senses and realize what you had them do… this could be a Civil War." She tugged at his hand. "Now come on!"

Miguel nodded. His brain didn't feel so… full of fluff… as it had been earlier. He was beginning to process things better and-

He looked down at his reflection.

The bruise forming on his jaw.

The red around his eyes.

And the blood.

Miles' blood.

It coated his face.

His hands.

All of him.

He didn't look like Spider-Man.

He looked… like a monster.

I, I wish I could swim
Like dolphins
Like dolphins can swim

~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Notes: So this chapter is written a bit different than the rest of the story will be written because I wanted to portray with the descriptions someone going through a fugue state/panic attack. Miguel's actions are based on personal accounts I've gotten about soldiers with PTSD (which I 100% believe Miguel has and explains why he is such a horrible person in the film… he is sick and is refusing help).

Across the Spider-Verse is a wonderful lesson in toxic grief. Not just how you allow it to affect you but also how it affects others. There is Miguel, who creates an entire belief system designed to absolve him from his guilt, so that he doesn't need to feel sorrow for failure. "It was meant to happen, its part of some greater plot!" Its why so many in the Society follow him… Miguel gave them an out. "You didn't fail to save Gwen Stacy/Uncle Ben/Whoever. It was always meant to happen! And you don't need to work harder to save others… they are meant to die."

My biggest fear for Beyond the Spider-Verse is they will handwave away all of this. Miles and Gwen will reunite and he'll go "Its fine, we're cool, let's save my dad." When he should look right at her and say, "If you really knew me you'd be on my earth saving my dad. You still treat me as a child and that you know better." And then utterly ignore her. She would try to make a comment to get him to smile and he'd just turn his back on her. When they work to take on a threat there are no wonders of thanks. The trust… it should be gone and Gwen should have to work, just like Peter B. and Peni, to earn it back. And it should be HARD. It should take time.

And thus… this story.

Next Time- Peter B. Parker's life has always been defined by him standing still rather than acting. Time and time and time again. Every worst moment of his life was caused by inaction. And now, when he wants to do something… anything… he finds himself unable to do anything but stand still.