Pandemonium (Miguel O' Hara x OC)

(3)

Miguel's situation is complicated.

Different.

Tara still can't wrap her head around the fact that he was so desperate for a family, a life with security and parenthood, that he went out of his way to replace a version of himself.

But, one thing she's grateful for after hearing Miguel's story—is knowing that traveling to another dimension in search of Manuel is off the table. The death of her son is an undeniable reality, and hearing about Gabriella's fate, along with the countless others lost, acts as a sobering reality check.

As she reflects on Miguel's predicament, she realizes that his burden extends beyond the loss of a single individual. The disappearance of his daughter, including the billions who vanished without a trace, weighs heavily on him. While Gabriella may not have been his biological child, the experience still afforded him a glimpse into the world of fatherhood, only to cruelly snatch it away.

His pain, his loss, becomes an inexpugnable part of Tara's own consciousness, a grievance she can't easily shake off. In the ensuing silence, she engages in a mental struggle against the gravity of their mutual grief, finding some solace in the fact that she's not alone in her suffering.

Miguel has a lot of pictures of Gabriella stored on his goober.

When Tara asks about the young girl's physical appearance, his response is accompanied by a bittersweet smile. With a gentle tap on the screens of his watch, a holographic slideshow materializes, casting a soft glow in the room. As the images flicker to life, Miguel recounts the moments captured within them with a hint of nostalgia. Each photograph depicts Gabriella radiating with joy, her infectious grin and twinkling eyes serving as a testament to her innocence and unspoiled spirit. Tara can't help but be moved by the sight, feeling a pang of longing as memories of Manuel floods her mind.

Despite her role in the Spider-Society and her familiarity with inter-dimensional technology, Tara has never fully embraced its capabilities.

The idea of traveling dimensions, while intriguing, held little appeal for her, especially considering the distance it would create between her and her son. Instead, she remained grounded in her own universe, dealing with the challenges and adversaries that came with her superhero identity. Though she didn't have physical photographs to share with Miguel, she finds comfort in detailing stories of her son.

"He sounds just like his mom," Miguel remarks, his voice tinged with warmth as Tara recites a funny story about Manuel hiding the TV remote.

She can't help but release an involuntary snort at the comparison.

"Nah, he's way nicer than his mama. That kid couldn't hurt a fly." she insists, a genuine smile gracing her lips at the thought of her son.

It's a rare moment of lightheartedness amidst the darkness that has shrouded her lately, one that feels unfamiliar yet relieving whenever Manuel is the subject of conversation.

As the conversation shifts, a somber silence settles between them.

Miguel switches off his goober, the images of Gabriella fading into oblivion. Tara senses the depression and anxiety already creeping back into her mind. Nurse Mehta's suggestion to socialize as a way to cope with grief resonates in her mind.

"They offered me to join a support group." she admits quietly, her eyes fixed on the restraints encircling her wrists.

"Me, too. A while ago," he nods in acknowledgment, though his mind appears elsewhere, likely still consumed by thoughts of his daughter.

"Did you go?" she inquires, curiosity highlighting her voice.

"I don't need support," Miguel declares firmly, rising to his feet and gazing out the window with a haunted expression. "Everything that happened was my fault," he adds, his words filled with guilt and regret.