Variant Strain

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Peter drifted in and out of sleep. He was curled up, warm and comfortable and coocooned.

His half-asleep mind felt... at peace. Protected. Safe.

That alone was a weird thing to feel, he thought to himself. He couldn't remember last feeling really safe since Uncle Ben had died.

Something was serving to pillow his cheek. The source of the warm and protected feeling. He was on his side and there was the vague but persistent feeling of connectedness. Of belonging.

His eyes flickered open and he glanced up at what he was on.

Someone's shoulder.

His eyes blinked open to see his own face in profile.

Asleep.

Peter snapped fully awake on the inflatable bed, on his back.

Unlike when he'd slept on it the last few times, when it was still in the middle of the basement, there was no natural light to give him an idea of the time, but his eyes adapted very well to the dark and he could see.

The image of the cellphone's clock rose in his mind's eye. Or possibly he had an eye open somewhere inside him where the phone was and that told him it was a few minutes short of six in the morning. Over twelve hours asleep, he realized.

Guess I was tired after all. He thought to himself ruefully.

He took stock and noticed that his arm was once more entirely cocooned by a combination of sheets and MJ. She had her head on his shoulder.

He looked closely at her and could tell she was definitely asleep. This time it was regular sleep. Little micro-expressions of annoyance, then contentment flickered across her features as his arm and shoulder shifted in her vice-like grip.

Something felt odd about his arm... other than the warmth and entrapment. It almost felt like he had tendrils unfolded from his flesh and he could almost swear he could feel his own body curled up around his own arm, which was eerie. There was a faint and strange fluttering of muscles along his arm which settled down as he came fully awake.

A careful exploration with his trapped hand informed him that she had his wrist caught in her thighs. Bare thighs. Either his hand had somehow wandered past the waistband of her sweatpants or she had kicked the sweatpants off in her sleep. Or he'd eaten them. Actually, he realized, he couldn't entirely rule out that she'd fed him the sweatpants while he'd slept.

He was reasonably sure he'd been dreaming earlier, he assured himself. Otherwise... he really did not want to think about what it implied. He certainly wasn't sure if it meant anything.

Where were her pants? Come to that, where was his shirt? He glanced down and realized that despite the lack of his own blankets, he was also missing a shirt. He squinted and realized that he'd found the sweatpants.

He was wearing them.

He blinked and tried to process that. A flick of his heartbeat and the sweatpants changed to slacks, then back. So maybe he had eaten them in his sleep.

He sighed. Worry about it later. He gingerly extricated himself from MJ, then stepped into the basement to get to the larger bathroom, rather than use the tiny one in the panic room.

He frowned as his dark-adjusted eyes noticed a very important fact. All of Detective Stacey's extremely heavy tools, the jig-saw, the rotary saw, even the large stationary drill... had been moved around.

In a few cases the equipment was on the other side of the room. In some, particularly for the really heavy items, they'd only been shifted a few feet. "Case of breaking and redecorating?" He murmured aloud.

Instead of a warning from Cain that he normally could have expected, he had a sense of movement behind him.

MJ called out in a sleepy voice, "My fault."

"What did you do?" Peter asked over his shoulder, noting that MJ was sitting up in the bed, still wrapped up in layers of blankets so that only her face and a lock of hair showed.

She half crawled, half shuffled out of bed moving next to him and giving him a peck on the cheek. "After you conked out, I was still kind of keyed up and couldn't go back to sleep." She drew the blankets tighter around her. "You told me you had to infect me, so I had to see what I could do."

"Move power tools?" He asked brightly.

This earned him a blanket-muffled slap on the shoulder and a small pout. "It looks like I'm pretty strong now. Not 'toss cars' strong, but I'm at least two or three times as strong as I used to be. I think."

"So definitely in the 'move furniture by myself' level of strong." Peter asked.

She sniffed at him. Then she worked an arm free of the blankets and grabbed a corner of a metal work table that Peter estimated to be at around two hundred pounds. She straight-arm lifted one side of the table with no visible strain. "Pretty sure I can pick this whole thing up and smash you upside the head with it."

"I'll take your word for it." He grinned then nodded thoughtfully. "Anything else?"

"My coordination and balance are better too. Watch this." She let the blankets fall to a pool around her feet then bent over double, her palms flat on the floor. "I never used to be this flexible either."

Peter choked slightly as the top she was wearing, slid down her back, giving him a good view of her lower back and the loose, white cotton underwear she'd borrowed from Gwen's closet. Before he could say anything, she lifted one leg up straight off the ground, followed by the other until she was doing an effortless handstand in the middle of the pool of blankets.

He really did his best not to stare despite the fact that her bottom was practically at his eye level... and why was he seeing nothing but bare back practically to her shoulders with the shirt falling down like that?

"Oh... um... wow. That's..." He tried to talk, but found himself very distracted.

She shifted her weight slightly and lifted one hand up and the handstand was done one-handed. "Hmm... maybe I shouldn't do this in a loose shirt."

"Or just panties." He managed to choke out.

With effortless grace she flipped back onto her feet and winked at him. "Sorry. Forgot I took the bra off for bed."

He coughed, "Very... er... impressive."

"That's really all I've been able to try out. Low ceiling and all." She straightened the shirt down and pulled the blankets up around her shoulders once more.

Peter looked at her thoughtfully. Not, he reminded himself forcefully, thinking about that flash of smooth, bare back. He shuddered and tried to keep his mind focused on the important part of her little demonstration. Not the incidental flash...

That was obviously deliberate, Donna pointed out. I really don't think the girl understands 'subtle' very well.

Nah, it's our boy here. Cletus said with a nasty laugh. Girl's figured out the the only way he'll notice anything is if she smashes him upside the head with it.

It's obvious that Hydra changed her, He forced his thoughts back on track.

If it really worries you that much, just kill her and get it over with, Cletus murmured irritably.

"You seem to be pretty much at around the level where I was when I was initially infected?" Peter said slowly.

"When I first saw you? Yeah, I guess." She replied.

"How about feeding tendrils?" He asked.

She shook her head, "Complete nope on that so far. And not for lack of trying."

He shot her a puzzled look, "What did you try, exactly?"

"Eating my pants." She said, deadpan.

He stared. "Is that why you're not wearing them anymore?"

"Well, I got frustrated after trying for about an hour and I threw them on the bed." She pouted, "Actually, they landed on you and the next thing I knew you it was tentacles everywhere and you'd eaten them."

He glanced down at the simulated sweatpants he appeared to have on. "Well, that explains what happened here."

"Sorry."

He chuckled.

She held up her hand and showed a tiny, faded scar on the tip of one finger. "After that, I cut myself to see if I'd start sprouting tendrils to close the wound up. Except all that happened was that it scabbed over and stopped bleeding really fast. The scab was gone when I woke up, so I guess that looks like faster healing, but still no tendrils."

Stable strain, Connors whispered, Improved strength, balance, coordination and healing factor. No physical deformities. No physical alterations.

That's Romanov, Peter realized.

You realize this potentially makes both of you extremely valuable, right? Cain graveled. She has it. You can make it.

This was what they were trying to recreate during the Camp Cathcart tests, Connors agreed.

But I thought we scrubbed all the Hydra from her system! Peter groaned in his own head.

You had no idea what you were doing. For all we know she is completely Hydra free and we just left changes behind. Or she's swimming in it and you can't detect your own strain in her. Connors seemed to shrug.

"Peter, you alright?" She asked.

"Yeah. Sorry. Worried about you." He admitted.

"I'm fine." She smile at him as she said it, obviously pleased, but she was dismissive.

"I guess so. It's just I think I might have made you a target." He said carefully.

She smiled and him, stepping closer to give him another kiss on the cheek. "It's the middle of a disease outbreak and the military are sweeping through the neighborhood cleaning up. Everyone's a target right now."

"No, I mean--"

She gave him another fond smile and cut him off, "Peter, I am intending to stick to you, no matter what." Her voice was hard, filled with certainty. Her gaze, unyielding. "I was going to end up being a target anyway."

He shifted nervously at her gaze. There was that intensity again. That absolute, bone-deep certainty in her when it came to him that unnerved him.

She paused and her face shifted from the determined to apologetic at the expression on his face, "Wait. I'm sorry. That sounded wrong. It's not your fault."

He gave her an exasperated look.

She huffed and returned his look, "I would rather be a target than dead. Is that clear enough?"

He sighed, "Okay, you have a point. I just--"

She worked her hand out of the blankets once more and laid a finger on his lips, "You have enough things to make yourself feel guilty about without me added to the list. I am happy like this, Peter." She flashed him a grin that lit up her eyes. "I am alive to be happy about this."

He simply nodded.

"What time do we leave?" She asked, "Did you want to have breakfast first?"

He shook his head, "You aren't coming with me!" He said sharply. "It's too dangero--"

She sighed and put a finger to his lips, "You know, as smart as you are, there's times when you don't thinking things through."

He gave her another irritated glance that she seemed to flinch away from slightly, but she pressed on. "I don't want to come with you to Manhattan." She said slowly, as though speaking to an idiot. Well, she seemed to think he was being an idiot, so the tone made perfect sense.

"You're not?" He mumbled around the pressed finger on his lips.

She giggled at the sensation and continued. "I know I'm stronger and faster now, but I really don't think that makes me ready to jump into the middle of a fight with Jessica, do you?"

"No, of course not." He replied carefully, her finger still making talking a little difficult, "I mean it gives you a little edge, but anything can happen."

She nodded in agreement. "Right. And you don't need to be distracted watching my back. I want you focused and ready to cut loose."

"So... what was that about us leaving?" He asked in confusion. Then giving in to an impulse, he kissed her fingertip.

She giggled and pulled her hand back. "It means, doofus, that I don't want to stay here while waiting for you." She gestured, "In case it missed your notice, there's diseased things running around out there and the military is shooting at them. I'd really rather not be trapped in the Stacey's panic room while you're out taking care of business."

"Oh." He blushed as he realized that he should have thought of that. "So take you past the barricades so you can hole up somewhere safer?" Peter asked.

"Bingo." She said with a bright smile.

"Where were you planning on going?"

"Do you know how far they've gotten?"

Peter frowned as he considered the question. Previously they had been bottled up in the Forest Park neighborhood, but they had broken out, but the general push of the infected had been to try for Manhattan rather than spread out like they could have. He realized that at least some part of him had still been listening in to the radio reports as he'd slept because he could remember troop movements during that time.

"Most of the infected have been heading north west, towards Manhattan. Forest Hills is depopulated, but some of the infected have been coming back here... maybe looking for familiar surroundings." His brow furrowed as more information scrolled past his closed eyes.

"So far the Thunderbolts haven't really seen any activity towards Flushing, or Jamaica at all. Elmhurst and Woodside have larger pockets of infection. I don't think anything's really gotten west of the 278 and the 495's pretty much been shut down and lined with military vehicles on its North side to keep Brooklyn clear." He thought a bit more. "JFK's been shut down too. They're redircting all inbound flights to Newark."

She stared. "How do you know that?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "That UltronMobile upgrade Hank put on my phone has a news feed." He blinked as something else occurred to him. "I also seem to be getting internet on it."

"You're checking your newsfeed right now?"

"Uh... yes. And Twitter. Lots of people complaining about the traffic delays."

"While you're not holding your phone." She pointed out.

He shrugged helplessly. "Er, no. I'm not."

"Straight feed to your brain?" She asked curiously.

"I don't think so," He admitted. "I can see the screen, wherever it is right now. I guess I've got an extra eye or set of eyes wherever it is the rest of my mass goes. I'm more amazed it's still getting a signal."

She nodded in acceptance.

Peter waved a dismissive hand. "Anyway, the news is pretty much calling the whole thing a terrorist attack. Looks like they've linked it to the Gentech tower 'bombing'."

"Is Staten Island still safe?" She asked.

"No reports of any infected even remotely getting that far," Peter assured her. "You're thinking of going to your house?"

"It would be safer than staying here, wouldn't it? The panic room aside," She gestured, "It might hide me from soldiers or infected, but I'd be trapped until they left. Or if they found me." She shuddered theatrically.

"It's also further away from Manhattan," He conceded. "You've made your point."

She beamed at him.

"So we'll get past the barricade then I can drop you off at Arden Heights--"

She seemed startled by that and put a hand on his arm, "How did you know where I live?"

He blinked in confusion at her, "You must've mentioned it. Or Aunt Anna did. Maybe even Aunt May."

"Oh." She shrugged once more. "In any case, the plan sounds good, but the sooner you deal with Jessica the better."

"I agree."

"It's going to take you at least two to three hours out of your way round trip, at least, if you need to take me all the way home."

"I can probably cut that down if I can glide us most of the way. No having to worry about speed limits that way." He grinned.

She shook her head, "If you can at least get me past the military barricades to somewhere where the busses are still running, I can get home by myself."

He looked at her worriedly, "Are you sure? I mean you were near death just the other day..."

"And now I can probably bench press a fridge." She said crossing her arms under her bosom. An act that shouldn't really have been quite so distracting if the rearranged blankets on her shoulders done an impressive job of framing her assets. "I can also read a bus schedule. You tell me, does everything outside of Queens seem to be running more or less normal?"

Peter grudgingly nodded.

You are so whipped, Cletus chortled.

She smiled at him. "There we go." She patted his shoulder, "I am not going anywhere near where these things might get me. It should be fine.

He sighed, "Fine."

They didn't bother with breakfast. There seemed little point in delaying. Peter and MJ did lock up the Stacey house and tried to straighten up as best as they could. MJ, having lost her hoodie, had ended up borrowing a hooded jacket from Gwen's clothes.

As they cleaned up MJ had idly asked, "Hey, Peter? When you do catch up with Jessica, how exactly are you planning to deal with her?"

He sighed and wished she hadn't asked that question. "I haven't really gotten that far." He admitted. "I guess I'll probably have to improvise something. It worked in Forest Hills."

She looked at him for a moment, "What about the thing they used during the Littleville outbreak?"

"The Richards Cipher?" He asked, allowing himself to consider it. His mind's eye called up the memories of Pym's handling it.. It had been recovered from the classroom where Professor Reed Richards had apparently come up with a means to nullify the Beta Strain Hydra outbreak in Littleville. It was a small, black spiral-bound notebook. Inside, written in a messy scrawl of densely packed symbols were extensive notes for... something.

The symbols didn't correspond to any known language or writing system. Cryptographical analysis had given no clue as to what it said. In many cases some of the symbols only appeared once and never again. It certainly hadn't helped that Professor Richard's handwriting had been terrible.

The people that Peter knew had puzzled out or understood the Cipher seemed to have gained control of how the Hydra virus expressed itself in people. But by the same token, if Hank Pym's friend Bruce Banner had been right... the understanding drove you mad. His mother, he suspected, had also cracked the Cipher.

Hank never admitted it to himself, but it's posible that was what woke Jessica up the first time, Connors whispered.

If she hadn't ended up having to spend the next five years locked in a mental battle with Jessica, what would have happened to her?

"We don't even know what it is." Peter finally admitted. "And if we did, every time it's been used, the person who knew how to use it either ended up dead or comatose."

MJ mulled that over then nodded firmly, "Well that's out."

He smiled as they both stepped out and finished locking up the house. "Yes. Definitely out."

He scooped her up in his arms and had an absurd little thought about just how perfectly she seemed to mold her body against his.

She gave a small excited squeal as he shot into the air and began gliding towards the nearest building to take another leap to get even higher.

Crossing the barricade had been almost trivial. Peter had the patrol schedules and troop placements already worked out in his head from the regular reports he was catching on the radio. He knew where they wouldn't be... or at least where they would be few enough people that no one would be looking up.

He sailed over them with MJ snuggled in his arms.

"This... is so cool." She murmured. "It's almost like you're flying."

"I can't actually fly upwards," He admirred as his feet lightly touched another building before another leap sent them surging westward. "It's kind of more like gliding than anything else."

"Still cool." She said burrowing her face into his neck to keep the wind out of her eyes. "We have to do this again after everyone's safe."

"Sure, MJ." He smiled, but part of him wondered if this would ever be over. So far it had been the longest week of his ife and he was sure taking care of Jessica and rescuing everyone seemed within reach, he had no idea if anything was going to go wrong.

He finally touched down at street level in an unused alley somewhere in Brooklyn.

MJ brushed a hand through her hair and smiled at him. "I'll text your phone when I get to the house, okay?" She held up the UltronMobile upgraded phone that had once been her anonymous backup phone.

Peter nodded. "And I'll... uh... I guess I'll let you know once I find her. I mean before I actually go in to fight."

She nodded, suddenly shy. She averted her eyes and shoved her hands into the pockets of the jacket.

"So... um... do you have enough money for--?"

She nodded hurriedly. "I managed to save my bus pass. And I have a little money." She grinned. "I still have that cash from the Thunderbolt guy you mugged."

"Cool." He said awkwardly.

"Yeah."

Oh for goodness sake, Donna murmured, If you take much longer saying goodbye, you may as well drop her off at her place.

"I should go." Peter finally said.

"Yes... um..." MJ chewed on her lower lip for a moment before suddenly running right at him, practically tackling him, and pinning him to the alley wall.

She kissed him hard. Desperately clinging to him with her now considerable strength. He found himself kissing back just as passionately and felt other strange sensations as his entire body seemed to ripple from the pleasure.

She finally broke the kiss off, but not quite letting him go. "Be careful," she whispered.

"You too."

"I'm going away from the hidden horde of infected and their crazy Queen." She told him seriously, her eyes boring into his. "I know she can get into your head and I know you can resist her, but I really want you to have something to remember to help you fight off anything she tries, okay?"

He swallowed, "I'm definitely going to remember that." He tried for a smile, but that didn't seem to reassure her.

She looked away and swallowed nervously, "And... um... maybe... I mean... when you come back and we're done with all this weird stuff..." She chewed on her lower lip once more as though looking for the words.

"Yes?" He asked worriedly, uncertain of what she was going to say.

"Maybe we can do more?" She murmured almost inaudibly. "I mean... like a lot more."

"Oh." His face blazed red. "Oh."

"More like... for real. And not just me teasing you." She continued, her voice a bare whisper.

"MJ, I'm not even sure I can--" He began to reply awkwardly.

"We can find out together." She said firmly, now looking into his eyes once more. Her expression defiant.

He couldn't think of any other response but to nod.

She smiled, her expression clear and untroubled. She leaned up to give him a brief peck on the lips. "Go get her, Tiger."

He nodded and smiled back. "I'll see you soon."

With that, he stepped away from her and shot straight up into the air.

It was time to find Jessica.

It was time to end this.

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