Variant Strain

- - -

Peter awoke with a start as he felt his ride slide to a stop.

There was something... he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Waking was a relief. He felt like he'd been dreaming, but couldn't remember what it had been about.

He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. The moment of disorientation as he came to full consciousness had him almost halfway out of his seat before his head thumped unpleasantly against the ceiling of the limo.

The intercom crackled to life and Kingsley's voice came through. "Mr. Parker?"

"Yes?" He croaked.

"We're coming up on the Osborn place, sir."

"Oh." Peter blinked again, looking out of the windows to find a wide country road flanked by trees on either side. Not sure if the chauffeur/security man was expecting him to say anything further, he simply added, "Thank you."

That seemed to satisfy the other man, as the intercom crackled off after a moment.

The divider in front of him was still up and opaque, so he couldn't quite see their destination, but he could see them drive past a set of heavy automated gates and a high fence.

Not high enough that he couldn't jump or climb over them, but a faint whiff of ozone in the air, despite the windows being closed told him that it was likely electrified.

That was not entirely heartening considering he would probably need to get past that on the way out. Assuming they didn't just let him and everyone else leave.

And how likely is that, do we think? His voice drawled back sarcastically.

He could feel the limo turning. The driveway they were on was paved in cobblestone and there were lit lamp posts all along the way. It made the last part of the drive much brighter, but it was also an obvious security measure.

No one's sneaking up this route with the lamps on.

He glanced out once more. This time an immense home came into view through the passenger side window. It was at least three stories and he could see two wings on either side of a large central house.

The front steps to the home, an even dozen of them made from the same paving stones as the driveway, rose up to a set of heavy wooden double doors that were flanked by plaster planters that had rose bushes.

At the doorway, the lights were on in the receiving area and backlit a group of people standing just beyond the open doors.

The limo hadn't even completed pulling to a stop when one of the figures was already running down the steps.

Peter braced himself, half-expecting whatever was conducting that mad charge to ram into the limo and flip it over, but he realized that it had only been his Aunt May.

The limo was just finishing its stop when she's already grabbed hold of the door handle and opened it sharply.

"Peter!" May shouted.

He tried to step out of the vehicle, but hadn't made it beyond sliding himself to the now open door when she'd hurled herself inside the limo and was hugging him fiercely.

Unable to help himself, his face lit up in a blush and he weakly returned her hug.

"I've been so worried." She sobbed, relief evident in her voice.

"Hey, hey... I'm okay, Aunt May. Really. I'm okay. Everything's okay." He murmured soothingly at her, patting her back.

The others who had been waiting at the door came down the steps at a more sedate pace.

"I think she kind of missed you." Anna said, peeking into the limo door with a warm smile at him. She'd had to bend down and the fact that her scoop-necked blouse was now giving him a perfect view of her cleavage just heated his face even more.

"Better let him up, Aunt May" Gwen called merrily into the car, "Otherwise you're going to end up stuck in the limo all night."

"To be fair," The smooth, mellow voice that Peter recognized as Harry Osborn floated in through the open door as well, "It is a very nice limo."

"Where's your dad?" Peter asked Gwen hurriedly as Aunt May continued to hug him with no signs at all of letting go.

"Resting." Gwen replied. "He's not as exhausted as MJ is, but he's pretty worn out. He's sleeping right now. They've got him on an IV."

"And you'll be able to see him," Harry paused and added with a teasing smirk, "And Miss Watson, once the doctor's had a chance to look you over in our clinic."

"The house has its own clinic?" Peter blurted out.

"The house has its own zip code!" Gwen declared with a grin.

"This all assumes May ever lets you out of her sight again," Anna quipped.

"Never, ever, ever!" May muttered into his shoulder.

"Er... Aunt May, come on. You're going to have to eventually!" Peter replied, smiling weakly, "If nothing else, you're not going to follow me into the bathroom."

"Try me!" She replied mulishly.

That got a laugh.

Peter felt that part of himself that had been braced for things to go spectacularly, horribly wrong slowly unclench.

He held his Aunt May and reveled in simply not being on the run. Or elbows deep in gore and slaughter. Or being anything other than simply... human.

It took them several minutes of persuasion before Aunt May finally agreed to let him go, much less out of the limo.

The man playing chauffeur pulled the limo away with little fuss while the group were ushered back into the house by Harry Osborn. Anna and Gwen took their leave and headed back to their own rooms.

The so-called clinic was on the first floor, not too far from the front entrance and wasn't really an actual clinic so much as some sort of parlor room which had been decorated in turn of the century medical paraphernalia. The turn of the previous century.

There was a skeleton in one corner, old-style anatomical charts done in oil on canvas, brass and aluminum contraptions with lenses and strange wooden handles that were obviously meant to be some sort of medical tools.

Peter smiled with wistful nostalgically, reminded of Uncle Ben's antiquing. He glanced over to Aunt May who it seemed also to have been caught up in remembrance even as she clung to his arm, ostensibly guiding him, but still making it clear she had no intention of letting go.

Harry had led them into the room and a man in a white lab coat with dark, slicked back hair and a finely trimmed beard and moustache greeted them.

"This is Dr. Essex," Harry said, clapping the smaller man on the shoulder. "He's our family physician, Peter."

Dr. Essex inclined his head slightly and said, "Pleased to make your acquaintance," in a faint British accent.

"Okay, May," Harry said gently, taking her by the elbow. "Peter's not going anywhere."

"I'm staying here." She said, even as he led her to one of the chairs. It was clear from his expression that he considered getting her to let go of Peter was already a major victory. From her expression it was just as clear that letting go was already a major concession.

"I'll be okay, Aunt May." Peter said with a confident grin that he didn't really feel. He knew changes had been made to his body. Major ones. He had no clue at this point if any of those would be detectable by a cursory medical examination.

He had no clue if this would be a cursory medical examination.

"Please sit, Mr. Parker," Dr. Essex said, gesturing to the examination table, "Your aunt can stay if you have no objections. I just want to make sure you're none the worse for wear after your ordeal."

"Uh... sure." Peter replied, complying. He had no way of knowing what to expect, but the examination seemed perfunctory. Sometime at the start of the examination Harry had made his excuses and left, allowing them some degree of privacy.

Peter's eyes flicked to a particular shadowed corner of the ceiling and knew there was no privacy. He could spot the cunningly hidden security camera. Maybe it was perfectly normal security for a home this rich and well-appointed. Or it could have been far more sinister.

The exam itself consisted of simple questions and little things one might expect from any doctor's visit. Heartbeat, perfectly normal. Lungs. Perfectly normal. Blood pressure, perfectly normal. Reflexes... normalish if on the fast side. A peek in the eyes and ears, normal, normal, normal. He hadn't even had any bruises to speak of and they noted that he was a bit heavy for his height, but nothing unusual. At all.

May seemed to sag in relief at that news.

Dr. Essex nodded. "You really are in surprisingly good shape for someone who just went through what you did. There is just one last thing."

"Yes?" Peter had relaxed, but there was something about the whole situation that continued to make him feel on edge. His heightened senses still worked, but he couldn't be certain if his ability to sense Hydra still worked. That part worried him the most.

"A blood sample." Essex said, a faint smile on his face. "Not much. We just want to make sure you didn't pick up anything nasty during your--"

"Uh... I'd really rather you didn't." Peter blurted out.

"Peter, what's wrong?" May asked, rising to her feet once more.

He opened his mouth to reply, but realized that he didn't actually know for certain how to respond to that.

That the last sample of blood he gave got someone killed when it was used for an experiment to test if his alleged immunity to Jessica Drew's pheromones could be transferred? Or that his last case of involuntarily provided blood samples were used to construct monstrous parodies of himself.

"If you are not comfortable with the idea of giving us a blood sample now," Essex said, noting the hesitation, "We can do it at a later time. It would be to your benefit. You're obviously not infected with whatever you were exposed to in Queens, but we do want to make sure."

Peter blinked as he remembered something. Gentek could detect Hydra. It seemed reasonable to assume that their parent company, Oscorp, the same people who had reinfected the Soviet soldier-form infectees would have the same technology.

It was enough to break through the relief he'd felt at finally being reunited with Aunt May. Enough to make him remember that no matter how comfortable... this was enemy territory.

He licked suddenly dry lips and asked, "So Detective Stacey and MJ didn't have any trace of... you know... the stuff that made people into monsters?"

Dr. Essex shook his head and replied absently, "No, no. They both tested clean."

Peter knew something was wrong with that. The man's heartbeat had been steady. There had been no tremors or ripples or tell tales that he'd lied, but Peter was certain that couldn't have been right.

He had rebuilt MJ's body with the Hydra. There was no way there would not have at least been some traces left in her. She'd had the same superhuman strength and coordination he'd possessed. She couldn't have been uninfected. Could she?

His suspicions and paranoia were building to a fever pitch and he didn't have anyone to tell him to take it easy, so he forced himself to calm down. Forced his heart to even out. Forced himself to stop as he realized he'd been on the verge of bolting for the window.

He still kept expecting a voice in his head to tell him to focus. Another to point out the exits and where he should strike first.

That was gone now.

All gone and he wasn't certain how he felt about that.

He actually had no clue if his body would even have any Hydra in it.

He wasn't sure if he could risk that. Not with the Dorrek here. Somewhere.

What was he even doing here?!

He looked from a concerned Aunt May to the doctor who seemed unperturbed by his reluctance. "I'd rather do the blood test later," he said after a long moment. "I just... I don't think I can handle seeing any more blood right now."

That got Aunt May entirely on her feet and surging towards him to sweep him up in another embrace. She murmured comforting and soothing words to him. He hugged back, using her shoulder to hide his expression and the blush on his face.

Essex shrugged, "No problem, Mr. Parker. Some rest would do you good, I would say. Mr. Osborn has you all in the west wing, as I recall." He turned his attention away from the boy and his aunt, putting in some notes into a small electronic tablet. From his position, Peter couldn't make out anything written on it.

Aunt May had gotten herself enough under control to straighten up and she nodded. "The room I've been using has an empty room adjoining it. You'll be staying there. I already asked Mr. Osborn."

Peter nodded back then asked carefully, "So... how long were we going to be staying here?"

She sighed and smiled gently. "Well, Mr. Osborn was kind enough to say we could stay as long as we liked, but I suspect only until the situation in Queens is sorted out. He thinks they should be able to clear those..." She shuddered. "Those things, within a week."

"Oh."

May nodded once more. "And dear MJ said if we absolutely had to, until any repairs were completed, we were welcome to stay on Staten Island in her home. She and Anna say there would be plenty of room."

"That sounds great." Peter said, trying to sound positive. The idea of staying in this place for a week didn't seem so bad. A richly appointed mansion with everyone he cared about. Nothing trying to kill him. No mutated inhuman monstrosities or hordes of infected clawing and biting and tearing. No insane decades old teenagers intending to--

"Peter, are you alright? You turned pale all of a sudden." May asked, her voice rising slightly.

"I think I should get some rest, Aunt May." Peter murmured, forcing himself to turn away from those thoughts. He told himself harshly to focus. But even that just simply didn't sound right in his mind.

She led him out of the clinic, leaving Dr. Essex behind to straighten up his medical supplies.

They walked down the hall, deeper into the wing of the manor, passing doors on either side. Here and there, tasteful but blandly done landscapes hung from the walls, breaking up the monotony. The place was huge, but also very, very impersonal.

It didn't feel like a home, but Peter had to imagine that these areas of the house didn't seem to be much used and were probably mostly given over to guests. It really felt a lot more like some sort of hotel lobby than the inside of someone's house. The silence, despite the size of the place did little to really settle him.

He did notice that there were heart beats in the doors they were approaching. They were mostly even. Resting or sleeping. The scents were still there. Familiar now. Easy to identify. Faint through the doors, but unmistakable.

"George is sleeping in there." She gestured to one of the closed doors. "Gwen has the suite room next to his. Anna has the room across the hall." She paused significantly, glancing to Peter then to the door which, if the pattern held was the room adjoining Anna's.

"So that would be MJ's room?" Peter asked carefully, already knowing the answer. The scent that reminded him of creamy waffles and fresh mornings came from the door. The heartbeat beyond it beat in time to his own. He knew exactly who was beyond the door.

"Oh, yes. Did you want to check up on her?" May asked, unable to keep a smile from her face or the teasing lilt out of her voice.

"Uh... well... if it wouldn't bother her much, I guess?" Peter replied, already aware that she was awake.

May smiled openly now, her face indulgent. "Well, we can take a look and see if she's still awake, shall we?"

Peter blushed once more, "Y'know, I find that tone of voice you're using to be kind of worrying." He smiled weakly and took a deep breath, reassuring himself that it was MJ just on the other side of the door. He knew her scent intimately.

"Oh, you're just imagining things," She replied with a negligent shrug. She eased the door to the room open and peeked in. "MJ, Dear? Are you awake?"

"Yes, I a--" Her voice cut off suddenly.

He was still behind Aunt May, unable to actually see past her into the narrow gap in the door, but he heard rustling and shifting of cloth and a sudden happy squeal.

May quickly got out of the way as the door was flung open and MJ, dressed in a hospital gown threw herself at him.

Peter's heightened reflexes almost caused him to fling himself to one side to avoid the red-headed missile, but he instead braced himself and caught her in his arms. Her own arms snaked around his neck and pulled him into an embrace even as he used her momentum to spin them around to bleed off some of the speed with which she'd hit him with.

As he spun, he caught a glimpse of the room through the now open door and the part of his mind that kept track of numbers and distances and times whirled and told him that she'd covered the distance in practically no time at all.

There was no question about it. MJ most definitely still had her abilities. There was no other way she could have made it across the room and into his arms so quickly otherwise. The strength in those slender arms as they crushed him into a hug was another indicator.

Of course, none of those thoughts could maintain coherence in the face of the sudden living, breathing form in his arms. She molded her body against him, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, her breath tickling against his skin. His own face was in her hair and her scent filled him.

Intoxicated him.

For a brief moment, there was nothing else.

He'd known, intellectually, that she'd been safe. But that was nothing compared to the actual proof and certainty of her safety.

That she was here. Warm. Alive. In his arms.

No more thoughts of New York or Manhattan or Queens or Forest Hills.

Nothing for the Dorrek or the lost Veranke.

Only MJ. Weird, glorious, terrifyingly codependent Mary Jane Watson was the whole of his world.

He only realized that they were half-way towards a kiss when they heard a throat being cleared.

Peter blinked in confusion, realizing he was looking into MJ's eyes who was just as dazed as he was.

Then they both turned to look at the interruption.

Aunt May had a bemused and thoughtful expression on her face. One brow quirked as she looked at the two teenagers.

Both of them stared back.

Deer in the headlights.

What was the word? Peter asked himself, his mind not quite managing to find itself. Oh, yes. Tharn. We're in tharn.

MJ recovered her mental equilibrium first and hastily unlatched her arms from around his neck, blushing furiously. She did grab hold of his hand in one of hers, while the other raked through her hair, pushing it out of her face. One lock in particular she had to come back for, sweeping it over one ear.

Peter couldn't stop looking, tracing the path of her finger as it caressed the outer edge of one ear in the process of pushing that lock of hair behind it. It was obvious she was using the motions to get herself back under control.

He half-wished he had something like that he could do for himself.

When she finally spoke, her voice was small and warm and happy. "Hey, Tiger."

There was pretty much no removing the smile that had taken station on his face.

"Hey, yourself." He murmured back. His face was definitely blushing brightly. "I'm back."

"I'm glad."

Aunt May on the other hand had let the thoughtful expression on her face pass in favor of an amused one. "Oh, it's like that, is it?" She said with a grin.

"Er... like what?" Peter asked in mild alarm.

MJ simply smiled and the hand that had its fingers intertwined with his tightened, "Yes. Yes, it is."

Aunt May's smile widened and she nodded. "Are Anna and I going to have to give you two the talk?"

"Anna already threatened me." Peter mumbled with a sickly grin.

MJ giggled at that.

May seemed to take that as acceptable. "Alright, well, I'm sure you're both still pretty worn out." She gestured to one of the doors further down the hallway. "I'm in that room, Peter. You're apparently staying in the one next to it, alright?"

"Yes, Aunt May." Peter said carefully. He could feel MJ's fingers playing against the palm of his hand even as he spoke.

MJ did seem to slump a little then, leaning into Peter. "Yeah, I guess I am still pretty wiped." She turned to smile at him, then using the eye Aunt May couldn't see gave him a wink. "Can you help me into bed, Peter?"

"Uh... yes." Peter said and without thinking simply leaned down and picked her up in a bridal carry.

Aunt May's eyes widened slightly at the display of strength from her nephew, but she didn't comment as he easily carried MJ into the room and gently helped settle her back into bed.

Peter leaned over her as he tucked the blanket around her, she whispered.

"I'm ready to go. Just say the word."

He blinked owlishly at her and was met by her inscrutable smile.

"You told me to be ready." She whispered once more, her voice far too low to be heard by Aunt May. Almost too low to be heard at all if it weren't for his enhanced hearing.

"When?" He asked in confusion, his voice almost loud enough to be heard by Aunt May and he winced.

"This afternoon. When I let the Oscorp security guys take me here."

Peter stared. That would have been right around the time that was currently blank to him. He had no memory of such a conversation. He might have replied, but MJ smiled suddenly and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"You'll both have plenty of time to talk some more in the morning." May admonished them gently from the doorway.

That jolted Peter to straighten up and move towards the door, glancing back at MJ. She smiled in seeming innocence and waved to him as he left, but the moment Aunt May's back was turned she winked at him and gave him a nod.

Which did nothing more than to serve to further confuse him.

He was still confused an hour later in the room he'd been given.

It was a nice room, but that hotel-like impression that the Osborn house gave him was still very strongly prevalent. Tastefully neutral striped wall paper, the entire room was in earth-tones with a clear sign that someone involved in the interior decoration had liked beige. The furniture was in lighter woods, but of a heavy old-fashioned design. The bed was king-sized and had far too many pillows.

They'd prepared a set of plain white pajamas for him. For a moment, Peter had just held the clothes in his hand and stared, dumbfounded, when his fingers failed to transform to consume them.

Then he realized what he'd been trying to do and sighed, then changed the normal way. By actually taking off any putting on clothes. He had changed out of the black shirt and slacks, setting them aside neatly on one of the chairs in the room.

He was surprised that he had a familiar pair of underwear on. The same pair he'd had when the whole insane week had started.

That was, in its own insane way, comforting.

Peter had tried, but after half an hour in the overly soft bed, he'd non-literally clawed his way out of it and was now standing at a window, looking out over the darkened lawn and to the fence and the woods just beyond them.

He'd considered sneaking into MJ's room to ask her what she'd meant, but her heartbeat and breathing told him she was asleep. Meanwhile, Aunt May in the next room over, was not asleep. As careful as he could move, he suspected that she would definitely hear it if he tried to go to MJ's room.

The ironic part, he realized was that he wouldn't even be going for the reason Aunt May might have thought he would be going. That was a little funny.

It wasn't quite as funny in the silence of his head without Cletus making the obvious off-color jokes about it. Or the warnings about 'sticking it in crazy'.

He shouldn't have been missing the voices in his head.

If they'd been here he would no doubt still be just as confused... granted he would've had someone to be confused with.

He was done with that weirdness, he supposed. He no longer even had his powers. Well... most of his powers. It was quiet and he didn't have to fight anything right now and it would have been so good to just... relax.

Except for the sense that he'd forgotten something that he could no longer remember.

Well, there wasn't really much of a 'sense' of it as a certainty.

Then there was the knowledge.

The absolute certainty that the Dorrek was here. Somewhere.

That fact he couldn't leave alone.

Something that at the height of his power he could not confront directly.

So at this moment, here he was.

Within arm's reach of it.

Without his powers.

He really wished he knew where those had gotten to.

He wished someone would just tell him what he'd gotten into.

There was a sudden buzzing noise that startled him so bad that he'd jumped halfway to the ceiling before he'd realized that it was actually the phone which was still in his pants pocket.

He sprinted for it, pulling it out before a second buzzing vibration could sound and took note of the fact that the call was from an anonymous source.

He practically jumped to answer the call.

"Howdy."

Peter pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at it, then brought it back up and asked in a disbelieving tone, "Cletus?!"

"Hey, kiddo. Where you at?"

"Where am I at?!" Peter snarled into the phone. He bit down on his lip sharply, worried that Aunt May might have heard him. He continued in a far softer, but no less furious voice, "Where are you?! As in besides my head because you're clearly not there anymore?!"

"Ooohh. You don't remember that part?"

"No, I don't remember that part!" He whispered harshly.

"Well, y'know performing brain surgery on yourself is kind of an inexact science--" Cletus replied dismissively.

"Brain surg--?! Cletus. I'm only going to ask this once. What is going on?"

"Y'gotta answer my question first. Where in the house are you?"

"Why?!"

"I need to know if we're a go or no-go for extraction."

That brought Peter up short.

It sounded... right.

"Well?" Cletus asked again, more impatiently this time.


"Go."

"Gotcha. See you in a bit."

- - -