Peter POV:
The sterile hum of the medical room lingered like a ghost. Peter lay resting, his breath shallow but steady, monitors flickering with fragile proof of life. Aunt May sat at his side, never loosening her grip on his hand. Uncle Ben stood behind her, gaze heavy with both awe and sorrow.
Across the room, Lieutenant Stacy still held his daughter. Gwen buried her face into his chest, trembling as though she feared he might vanish if she let go.
When at last she pulled back, her eyes were wet but resolute. "Dad. You need to understand. I didn't kill Peter. Not then, not ever. I fought to stop the lizard, not knowing Peter was the lizard. And I carried that night like a coffin on my shoulders because I thought I'd failed you."
Lieutenant Stacy's voice shook as he brushed her hair back. "Gwen… all those nights I hunted you, blaming you… God forgive me. I thought I'd lost both my child and my faith in justice. And now, standing here, I see it plain. I didn't just fail Peter. I failed you too."
Gwendolyn stepped forward, her own eyes damp but steady. She put an armoured hand on Gwen's shoulder. "You don't have to carry it alone anymore. You never did. You're still you. You're still a Stacy. You're still loved."
The room broke in silence, only breath and tears moving, until my voice cut clean through it.
"This isn't just about family. It's about the story the world will believe. Bloodshot took Peter Parker. Bloodshot scarred him. Spider-Woman was framed. That narrative clears Gwen. But it also reshapes Peter into something dangerous. The public will see him as survivor, yes, but also as proof that monsters like me exist."
Captain Stacy folded his arms. "So the question is… what happens when the lie grows bigger than the truth?"
My face relaxed. " It won't. At first there will be buzz but with time it will die down as Bloodshot never truly existed. The only problem that will linger is government interest in Peter but I have a plan for that."
By morning, the city was already in flames of speculation.
Every newspaper screamed headlines. "Peter Parker Alive?". "Spider-Woman Innocent?" Video clips of Bloodshot's broadcast played on every channel. Talk shows tore apart the footage, half in disbelief, half in awe.
Crowds swarmed outside the hospital where Peter was kept, desperate for a glimpse of the boy they had buried. Some wept. Some chanted. Some demanded answers no one could give.
And yet, in all the noise, a shift had begun. Spider-Woman's name, once synonymous with Peter's murder, now rose with cautious reverence. Children painted her symbol on their backpacks. Murals sprang overnight across Brooklyn. A scarred Peter and Spider-Woman, side by side.
Inside the hospital, the storm of voices echoed faintly through the windows. Gwen stood in front of the window, staring down at the crowd. Her hands trembled but her voice was iron.
"They're seeing me differently. But it's not forgiveness. Not yet. It's doubt. It's hope and it's fragile."
I joined her, armour dim in the soft morning light. "Public opinion is a battlefield, Gwen. You don't win it in one night. But you've been given something most never get. A second chance."
She looked at me, eyes sharp. "And Peter? What about him?"
The scarred Peter stirred on the bed, eyes half-open, voice hoarse. "I don't care what they think. I just want to live again. To make the days mean something and to help Gwen be safe."
Uncle Ben leaned forward, his voice steady, the same voice that raised me and Gwendolyn back in our world. "Then do it, son. Don't chase headlines. Don't chase ghosts. Just live. Because you got a whole lot of living to catch up with."
The words rooted deep, heavy as bedrock.
That night, the news cycle still raged. Analysts dissected Bloodshot. Conspiracies bloomed like weeds. Some doubted if Peter was even real. Some claimed Spider-Woman staged the whole thing. But for the first time in a year, her name wasn't cursed by the public.
In the quiet of the hospital room, the family gathered close. Aunt May, Uncle Ben, both George Stacys, both Gwens and two Peters. One scarred, one armored. A familial bond forged not by blood but by survival, sacrifice and truth too strange to ever tell whole.
For now, it was enough.
But outside those walls, the world was changing. And it would not rest for a long time but it will, eventually.
Read 45 chapters ahead on P.A.T.R.E.O.N
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