Gwen Stacy Syndrome Ch. 06

It wasn't hard to recognize the fingerprints of the symbiote on 'their' Spider-Man, which Peter hoped explained his behavior toward Ana. She'd ended up returning with her mother to their home dimension, embarrassed and vowing revenge.

Yet for all Ana's shame and frustration, the time she'd spent with the other Spider-Man was the closest she'd come to a real relationship. And seeing Peter with Felicia, she'd become consumed by the idea of having 'her own' Spider-Man. For days she'd watched the three of them, coming to envy their life together, until finally her confused mind had found a way to reconcile her feud with the Spiders with her lust for Peter Parker.

It was about the craziest thing Peter had ever heard.

"She's telling the truth," Matt said, sipping his tea.

They'd left Felicia tucking Ana in, so to speak, while they finished off the tea.

"She's a psychopath!" Peter protested. "Are you sure your... radar isn't on the fritz?"

"Are you sure your spider-sense is working?" Matt countered. "Haven't gotten a ping off her, have you?"

"Occasionally."

"When she's thinking of causing trouble, which isn't often. Peter, I know psychopaths. I can smell them—more literally than you'd think. She's not, strictly speaking, crazy. She's a confused young woman who's seeing a healthy, functional set of relationships and wants that in her life, as best she can express her need for it."

"And if I don't say yes, she's going to go back to trying to kill me."

"I'm more concerned with her psychological well-being."

"Easy for you to say."

Matt set down the tea cup. "Peter, there aren't many men I'd trust not to take advantage of this situation. You're one of them. For what it's worth, I can't detect any aggression on her, any deceit—she wants to share in your happiness, she just doesn't know how to say that. Who does? To her, the only way she can express this desire for a normal life is this talk of broodmares and masters... she wants to cook eggs with you on Saturday morning, same as you would with MJ."

"She could hurt someone. Kill someone. If Mary Jane weren't out of the country, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I'd have her hauled to jail—"

"On what charge?"

Peter gritted his teeth. "If it were Bullseye, coming to you claiming he'd seen the light..."

Matt held up a finger—enough to stop a courthouse cold, more than enough for Peter. "Bullseye had a normal childhood, he made the choice to be what he is. Ana was raised as a living weapon, now she's making the choice to be someone else. I'm not a saint, Peter. I'd be just as suspicious as you. That's why I would want her someplace I could keep an eye on her..."

"In your bed?" Peter pressed.

"She wants affection. Separate that from sexual intimacy as best you can. Show her how to be a human being. Maybe, in a few months, she'll realize the situation continuing is untenable and accept that she can't find what she's looking for with you."

"And won't she take that well."

"Even failed relationships can help us be better people. Would you have done things differently, if you were back on that first date with Betty Brant?"

"Not the same thing."

"It never is." Matt picked up his cane. "We can keep going around and around on this, but in the end, it's entirely up to you. All I can say is, the only way we ever seem to take these people off the playing board is when they die or they see that there's a better way. I'd prefer it be the second one. No matter how much of a longshot it seems like."

***

"Where are we going?" Ana asked the next day, sprawled in the backseat of Felicia's convertible with Peter. She seemed amused by being able to vine herself around him, Peter tolerating the contact, stroking her arms as she unwound against him.

"I told you," Peter said, with a look to the driving Felicia. "We're going to see some old friends. For that thing we talked about."

"Will it hurt?"

"No."

"And this will prove to you my love? My devotion?"

"Yes, Ana. But you don't have to do it if you don't want to. It would just make me feel better—I promised I'd take care of Felicia. I know she can handle herself, but I need assurances."

"You'll see." Ana nuzzled her head into the collar of his shirt. "I would give anything for you. And after, you will kneel between my legs like I saw you do with redhead. Give me your mouth of pleasure."

***

"I do not like this woman," Ana said, waiting in the car with Felicia. "She smells of lies and presents her bosom for our master."

"Hush," Felicia replied. "I like her aesthetic. Besides, Peter prefers classy ladies like us."

Out on the front perch of the X-mansion, Peter had come up the stairs to find Emma Frost waiting with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.

"You realize this isn't exactly ethical?" Emma asked. "Not that I care about such things, but you hero-types, you might as well accuse me of witchcraft for considering such things."

"She's consented to it," Peter argued. "A gesture of goodwill."

"Her mind's buzzing like a beehive. She's half in love with you just because you can give her a hard right hook, and the other half's because you won't. I'd suggest that she isn't in the best place to make decisions about her psyche."

"I don't like the thought either. Crazy as it sounds, she's... she's not a bad kid. But she's in this city because of me. I'm giving her a place to sleep. If she hurt anyone—God forbid, someone I care about, even..."

Emma cut him off. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it." She curled her fingers in the direction of the car. Ana got out and came striding over. "For what it's worth, someone did the same for me once. Let me sleep under their roof. Eat at their table. Be the viper clutched to their breast. I appreciate that, now."

"And did they put a collar on you?" Peter asked wryly.

"No. But in their defense, they weren't able."

Ana arrived at their table, standing stiffly and suspiciously beside them. "Emma Frost. It is good to meet a friend of Peter's. Thank you for giving him assistance."

"You Russians. Life of the party." Emma slid Peter's untouched lemonade to Ana, who drank readily. "You're aware of what's intended here?"

"Yes."

"How would you describe it?"

Ana froze with the glass in her hand. "I have done bad things. Hurt people. Some more bad than—I cannot be trusted not to hurt more. So you will do thing in head, and I will not be able to kill anyone."

"Yes. A psychic block. You'll still be able to punch and kick and all the other fun games the kids seem to like so much, but you can't knowingly cause fatal harm. If you're repeatedly punching someone, perhaps because he's a vegetarian, and your mind is aware that another blow will kill him, you'll be psychically unable to do so. Someone could point a gun at your head and tell you to do it, but this will not be possible."

Emma drank her lemonade. After a moment, Ana followed suit.

"As you can imagine, this isn't something I employ lightly. It's a very slippery slope, and one opponents to mutantkind would love to brandish at us. So I will only do it to you if you agree to it, knowingly and unreservedly."

"I want this," Ana nodded. "I want to show Peter I can be trusted. I can change for him."

"My God, man," Emma cried, staring sharply at Peter. "All this after one night with you? It really is always the quiet ones..."

***

God, Mary Jane hated acting. Usually, she didn't but right now, she was giving in and hating acting. The movie had six writers, and one of them had just delivered a new draft that cut her scenes in half and made her part of a love triangle. It had the side benefit of giving her new lines that Megan Fox would say if she were on oxy. Still, she had to memorize them. It was a point of pride to have crap like that littering her brain.

She just hoped Peter was having a good time. There'd been a time when she'd worry that without her, he'd have no fun at all, but now with him and Felicia... Christ, she hoped New York was still standing when she got back from England.

There was a knock at the door. MJ gratefully set aside the script. "Who is it?"

"Room service," came the answer.

Mary Jane got up, wondering what complementary goodies the studio had arranged for her today, and opened the door to find a woman in a very tight minidress. That didn't concern her so much as the purple hair.

"Psylocke?"

"Please. Betsy," the X-Man said with a smile. "I owe Felicia a favor. She said to tell you thanks for the roommates."

"So this is a..."

Betsy stepped inside, the door shutting telekinetically behind her. "I'm in your room. Now I'm going to service you."

Mary Jane caught on quick. "That's a tall order. You're replacing two very sexy people."

Betsy counted on her hand. "I'm Asian and I have a British accent. I think I'll manage."

"There's still only one of you."

"Did I mention my split-personality?"