Unreasonable Addiction III

by Lady Russell Holmes

A year after Otto took Clair from Seattle, revenge enters their lives, threatening to tear them apart. Sequel to UA1 and 2

3. New Toys

Unreasonable Addiction III

Chapter 3: New Toys

By Yumegari and LRH, ed. Skylanth.

---

Octavius stopped in the doorway to the bedroom, looking down at Clair, who was, once again, sound asleep. Bruises covered a great deal of what little skin lay exposed, and her bandaged arms and legs still looked a little painful, the fingers that poked out of the cast and bandages, red. Her face, however bruised, looked peaceful at least. He crossed the room and knelt next to her, touching her cheek. "Clair," he said quietly. "Wake up."

Her eyes shifted under their lids, and then opened with the suddenness of someone released from a dream. She looked around, disoriented, then looked at Otto. "Hn," she said by way of greeting. "I fell asleep again."

"Yes," he said. "And it's time to wake up, now. Besides, I have something here for you that I daresay you're going to want to wake up for."

She blinked, rubbing her face with her free hand. "Are they ready?" she asked excitedly, trying to push herself up, wincing. "You're done already?"

He almost laughed at that eagerness, but restrained himself to a smirk as one actuator lifted something silvery into her view. From a gray harness similar to his, yet smaller, hung four slender, shining tentacles, complex claw-like heads still and closed.

Smiling hugely, she reached out to run her hand along one, gazing at them reverently. "Incredible," she breathed.

The metal seemed to vibrate under her touch, almost as though it were alive. Octavius cleared his throat, directing her attention back to him. "Would you...want to try them now?" he asked.

"Of course," she said eagerly. "I'm tired of sitting here useless." She glanced at him, then back at them.

Carefully, he unbuttoned the shirt of his that she'd borrowed and slipped it off of her, then bringing the smaller set of actuators around behind her, securing the harness very carefully around her torso. "I hope you're prepared for it this time," he murmured, a slight smirk on his features.

"It's not a sensation I'd ever forget," she assured him, forcing her back and shoulders to relax while bracing herself. "I think I'm ready."

He nodded, and fastened the last clasp. She felt the tingling against her back, and then the needles, hair-fine, plunged through her skin and into her spinal cord with that same sharp puncturing sound.

She took in a sharp breath, stiffening and going pale, but didn't make a sound. She closed her eyes and held very still until her nerves accepted the intrusion, shaking only slightly, then opened them again. She smiled as her brain reported new sensations, felt the actuators begin to move. They were lighter than Otto's had been, considerably so. She brought all four of them around in front of her, opening the claws and examining them.

At first glance, the claws seemed very similar to Octavius', three-pronged pincers that could turn in almost any direction, but at a closer look, the end joints of the claws were able to extend tiny manipulating waldoes and needles.

She exclaimed softly over the tools, delighted by the potential. "Otto, these are amazing! How did you-" She looked up at him, noticing now the signs of fatigue in his face. "You haven't slept this whole time, have you? How long has it been?"

"Hm, three days," he said offhandedly. "D'you see this receptacle here?" he said, pointing out a circular depression in the claw join on the top right actuator. "You can place a vial in it for--" here he yawned cavernously, eyebrows raising before he continued. "For injection."

"Mm," she said, examining the detail. Then she retracted all the fine tools and planted three of the arms on the floor next to the nest, lifting herself up. Her cast leg stuck out oddly, but she didn't care. She beamed at Otto and stepped over to him, close enough that she could embrace him with her good arm and the free actuator. "Thank you," she murmured, pressing her forehead to his.

He smiled a brief, rather absent smile. "It's no problem," he said. One arm curled carefully around her. "Mmmn. Now Spider-man is secured in your lab on the-the--" he yawned again. "examination table... I don't think he's going anywhere, but I want to make sure that--" another yawn. "He won't try anything," he mumbled.

She cupped his cheek in her hand and kissed him softly. "You're asleep on your feet. Sleep now. I'll save the fireworks for when you're awake."

"Nonsense," he mumbled. "Just stopped moving is all. I'll wake up if I... find something..." he trailed off and blinked heavily. "What was I saying?" He shuffled past her and fell forward onto the nest with a flump. "Maybe just a short nap..." he mumbled.

She smiled down at him, and one actuator reached out to pull a blanket up over his shoulders, tucking him in. She watched him until she was sure he was asleep, and then she left the room, the actuators carrying her down the hall as quietly as she could manage. Control of them came easier than it had the first time, whether because of improvements or her body's memory of how such things were done. Her broken arm ached, distracting her, and she went down the set of stairs into the lab, where she could find something to bind it against her chest and support the shoulder.

A sound caused Spider-man to force his eyes open, and the slight iridescence over his vision told him he still wore his mask. Good. The sound grew louder and it resolved itself into the familiar clanking of actuators on a hard surface. Ock again. Time had become indistinct since he woke up in that lab, strung up on this table and occasionally poked at by Ock. Funny thing was, it seemed Ock was trying to keep him alive for some reason. He wished he knew what. He pushed his eyes open further and realized, as the source of the sound clanked into view, that that wasn't Ock. Too small. This didn't make any sense at all. Either Ock had shrunk, or ... "huh?" he mumbled, his voice scratching like stone grinding together.

That's right. In the excitement about the actuators, Clair had only half heard Otto say that the bug was still in here. And he was awake, apparently. Holding her bad arm to her side with her good, she stepped over to the table and stood over him, her face blank. "Hello, Spider-Man," she said conversationally, one actuator going over to a cabinet to find something that would work for a sling and binding.

"Heh," came the reply. "Imitation's th' sincerest form of flattery?" he mumbled thickly. He should have been in more pain than this, but strangely he wasn't. Drugs, he realized. He'd been drugged. And that doctor whatserface--Holmes--looked downright creepy with tentacles.

"In this case, necessity," she said, smiling faintly as the actuator found a length of cloth somewhere and folded it into a sling. "I can't exactly use my own two hands right now, you see." Carefully, she co-operated with the arms to set her arm into the sling, then bound it against her side to finish immobilizing the shoulder. "Falling from rooftops will do that to a person."

"Uh, yeah," Spider-man blithered. "I ... uh ... tried to stop that from, y'know, happening..."

"You didn't," she pointed out reasonably. "And it was rather your fault in the first place. Do you commonly attack the villain when he's holding a civilian fifty feet up? No wonder the Bugle calls you a menace."

"Well, I was kinda banking on him putting you down, first," Spider-man replied a little sourly, starting to wake up a little further.

"When? While you were webbing him, or while you were trying to kick him in the head?" She glared at him, not noticing that she was taking on yet another of Otto's traits; she was holding herself perfectly still, while the actuators not supporting her weight wove sinuously behind her. "If it weren't for these, you would have delayed the experiment, and that would have been truly unforgivable."

"Uhm..." Spider-man floundered.

"What, no bon mots? You don't seem your usual witty self, Spider-Man," she remarked, moving away from him to check on the samples that she had left in the incubator days ago. They were ruined, of course, but she pulled them out anyway, taking slides to see what the overgrowth had done to the virus. Putting them under her small electron microscope, stolen months ago from the university, she made a pleased noise at what she saw. "Looks like everything is almost ready. The viral forms work with the serum, and are easily modified for a specific effect."

"What serum? What virus? Did somebody check 'test subject' on my driver's licence without telling me?" Spider-man queried, pulling at the restraints. His fingers twitched inward, but he found his web-shooters had been removed. Not good.

"Apparently," she said, amused. "Relax. I'm not going to do anything until Otto wakes up. And then I have a few tests I want to run."

"Otto? You two're on a first name basis now?" Spider-man asked incredulously. He twisted his wrists in the restraints, but the pain in his arms put a stop to that rather quickly.

"Don't do that, you have some broken bones," she said, coming back over to him. "I'm afraid that when Otto thought that you'd killed me, he got a little... violent. And I haven't a clue what he's been doing to you over the past three days. You do look to be in somewhat better shape than the last time I saw you, however."

"Yeah, your boyfriend's been taking reeeeeal good care of me," Spider-man answered, a little bitterly. Things were only getting worse, and he didn't like the progression they were taking.

"It's your own fault, you know," she pointed out, taking some notes before setting the slides aside. "If you weren't an interfering pest, we wouldn't be bothering with you. Well, maybe. I am curious about how your head works. Otto and I were discussing your rather preternatural reflexes."

"'Interfering pest?'" he echoed. "Hey, I dunno what Ock's been telling you, but I'm just doing my job keeping people like him off the streets!"

"Oh, I know," she said, checking a reading on the microscope and jotting it down. "I used to root for you. Saved your life once, though I don't expect you to remember that. But priorities change, people adapt to new lives. As you will have to do, I suspect."

He really didn't like the sound of that. "Why, what're you gonna do?" he asked suspiciously.

"Now, that depends on what the initial tests tell me," she said, looking at him. "But I promise, even if something goes wrong, you'll be remembered for your contributions to science. And your fashion sense." She quirked an eyebrow as the actuators lowered her into a chair, pushing her towards a desk. "Now, I have work to do. An experiment to design. So please, make yourself comfortable and entertain yourself for a while."

"Oh yeah. I can count the bricks in the wall," Spider-man grumped. "Contemplate my existence."

"That might not be a bad idea," she remarked absently, checking her notes. "Do it while you can."

"I am so not liking the sound of this..."

"I don't blame you," she said, one actuator reaching out to collect a variety of vials from around the microscope, bringing them to her. She choose two, and it put the rest back. "Which sense would you miss the least?"

"I haveta pick?" Spider-man replied incredulously. "I think I'd miss all of 'em, y'know?"

"I guess you're kinda new at this," Spider-man said after a moment of pulling on the bindings. "But the bad guy usually reveals his plan instead of just dropping ominous hints..."

"Hmm?" she said, looking up from her notes. She smiled, highly amused. "Oh right. If I'm going to play the part, better do it right. Very well, then." The actuators lifted her again, bringing her to loom over him. She enjoyed the experience. At five feet tall, she didn't often get the chance to loom over anyone. "The first thing we're going to do, obviously, is unmask you. Otto gets the honors, of course. And then I get to satisfy my curiosity about your neurological make-up. Are your reflexes truly precognitive?" she asked, her eyes intent behind the glasses. She blinked and looked up, gazing at nothing for a moment. "I wonder if Otto could get me an MRI machine? That would be considerably easier on both of us."

"Ehhh... eh heh..." Spider-man replied, mind reeling. "It'd be a bit much to carry around, doncha think?" He couldn't believe it. Here he was on a table in the laboratory of Doctor Octopus, waiting to be dissected. It hadn't exactly been on his list of things to do when he woke up that morning.

...well, three mornings ago, really.

"They make portable ones now," she supplied. "And you would most certainly prefer it to the alternative." One of the actuators came to hover over his face, slowly extending a small scalpel.

"Uh, yeah, I would," he gulped. "I kinda l..like my skull where it's at, thanks."

"Hmm," she said noncommitally, withdrawing the claw. "And after that, if you are still sufficiently unimpaired, you may help me complete the testing on my neuroregenesis serum and some of its variations."

"Sounds like a real blast and a half," came the acerbic reply.

"Well, I think so," she said, her grin widening incrementally. "But it's a science-geek thing. I won't blame you for being bored."

"I think it would be more of a 'being a test subject versus NOT being a test subject' thing, but whaddo I know, I'm only the test subject," he pointed out.

"Now you get it," she said approvingly, and turned back to the notes on the desk. "The real fun starts when I get the rest of my subjects. I can't use you as a control, obviously. Too many unexplained differences. But any variation of effect will be educational."

"Wow, remember me in my drooling vegetable-ness when you snag the Nobel Prize for this groundbreaking research," he grumbled darkly.

"I told you I would, didn't I?" She checked figures and watched as the actuators mixed minute quantities from the vials that she had selected earlier. "Hmm. I should test the Brocha variation if that's what we're going to use on Jameson..."

Spider-man was wide awake by this time and, in fact, the painkillers were starting to wear off, pushing him even further into a sharp, knifes-edge lucidity. "Broca... that's your plan? You leave Jameson aphasic?" he stopped, thinking for a beat. "Actually, that wouldn't be half-bad...splj... " his hero sensibilities took over at that moment, and rather vigorously at that. "You can't just go around scrambling people's brains!"

"Rude of me, I know, but I intend to. Start with Jameson, and if that doesn't attract the type of attention where I want it, I'll go from there. But I'm not going to risk such an upstanding -" The word was a good-natured snarl "- member of society with an untested process."

"What kind of attention do you want?" Spider-man asked, looking at her through the corner of his eye. Maybe he'd hit on something here.

"I don't want the attention. It's Oscorp that will be getting the credit for this. Only fitting, since they seem to want the credit for all of my work." Her voice had gone quiet and hard. "I could have finished this years ago, if it weren't for them."

Oh ho. Here's the meat of the issue. "You plan to infect people with a brain virus and then blame Oscorp because they stole your work? No wonder you and Ock get along so well."

"Osborn stole years of my life from me," she growled. "Six years wasted. He deserves to be ruined."

"What exactly did he do?" Spider- man queried carefully.

"He should have kept his nose out of my business," she snapped. "Otto was no threat to me, there was no reason for me to be ripped from my research and hidden on the other side of the country. But the FBI, of course, is always eager to assume the worst." A beat. "I'll admit, that very tendency has proven useful."

"Something Osborn used to his advantage," Spider-man mused. "Okay, I'll admit, that's really, really low, but really, aren't you gonna just be lowering yourself to his level doing this?" He really wished, now, that he remembered more of those psychology lectures he'd gone to.

"It's not possible for me to lower myself to his level. I have far too many limbs to be a worm." She chuckled, amused at herself now.

"Bad jokes must come standard with those things," Spider-man muttered. "Like a CD player in a car."

She rose her eyebrows, trying not to agree with him. Maybe it's the brain damage they inflict, she thought idly. Stimulates the humor response, perhaps? She would have to be careful about how much she used them. It wouldn't do to end up the way Otto had been when she first met him, but then again, the ZJ could just make it all better, couldn't it? She turned back to her work, splicing together the components for the drug-turned-biological weapon and ignored the bug.

"Silent treatment, huh?" he muttered. "Please yourself." A moment passed, but the hyperactive superhero was nowhere near a state conducive to silent contemplation or motionlessness. "So... uh... you and Otto, huh?"

She smiled at that, but didn't answer. Time passed, in which she cleared away a great deal of the preliminary work for the experiment and found her Tesla scanner under an avalanche of printouts in the back of the room. With the exception of Spider-man's chattering questions and the sounds of her actuators, the room was silent. Eventually, impatience got the best of her. She set down the clipboard that she'd been perusing and headed for the stairs.

"Had enough, huh?" Spider-man croaked, having worn his voice dry talking. "Got to ya, didn't I?" The pain had come back full force, now, and was starting to scramble his thoughts.

She looked back at him, then stepped back to his side, one actuator selecting a vial of morphine from a counter-top fridge and fitting it into the place designed for it. The needle extended from the actuator and she examined it, admiring Otto's handiwork.

"Nice setup," he grated. "Good and scary. Like everyone's doctor's office nightmare rolled into one..."

Rolling her eyes, she broke her silence. "Do you want a painkiller or not?"

He thought about it. The fuzziness was probably preferable to the pain. "Yeah," he said after a minute

"It's not my goal to cause any more pain than necessary," she said, making the injection into the crook of his arm.

"That's nice to hear, anyway..."

Not saying anything more, she retracted the syringe and ejected the vial, putting it away and then leaving the lab and its occupant behind, the actuators carrying her up the stairs and to their bedroom. Slipping inside, she lowered herself onto the nest next to Otto, just watching him sleep for a moment.

He hadn't moved from where he'd flopped on his stomach several hours earlier, actuators draped along the nest and the floor, one arm also draped over a mound of blanket, hand dangling. He snored ever so softly and slowly.

She leaned on her good hand, then leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth gently. "Otto," she said softy by his ear, one actuator brushing his hair back from his face. "It's time to wake up."

After a moment, he stirred, and his eyes flickered open. "Nnnnhhh," he said, looking up at her. "How long was I out?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Three hours or so," she supplied. "I've been in my lab. With him. He never shuts up, does he?"

"No, he doesn't," Octavius mumbled, sitting up and looking at her. "Is he still alive?"

"Still alive and still masked," she assured him. "I thought you'd want the privilege."

He smiled, leaning in and kissing her slowly. Finally pulling away, he murmured, "I admire your fortitude. And your patience."

"Why do you think I came and woke you up? Couldn't wait any longer with him prattling at me."

"Still, the fact that he's lived this long almost amazes me," Octavius murmured dryly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I haven't started anything yet. Didn't want to deprive you of your chance." She kissed him again. "I didn't let him get to me. But I may have monologued at him a bit, given away more than I meant to. It's almost impossible not to respond to him."

"I daresay that's part of his plan," came the reply. He hauled himself, rather reluctantly, to his feet and looked for his coat, finally realizing it wasn't in the bedroom. He left the bedroom and continued looking for it.

She followed him out and down the hall. "He's not an idiot, no matter how much he may play one, so it is possible."

"I've known this for decades, actually," Octavius replied absently, locating his longcoat and shrugging it on, his actuators snaking out the back. He started buttoning it, looking sidelong at her.

"So," she said, slightly self-conscious. She spread the arms wide, curling the upper two over her shoulders as the lower two supported her weight. "Do I look less ridiculous this time?"

He smiled, pausing in the action of buttoning his coat, and looked her over. "Much less ridiculous, yes," he said, stepping closer. He trailed a finger over the length of one of her actuators. "Much better."

She looked up at him, a small smile tugging regretfully at her mouth. "I suppose I should thank the bug for providing the incentive for you to make them. Right after I beat him for making me need them. This is... frustrating." She gestured at her immobilized arm and leg. "To say the least." She pressed close to him, taking a deep breath against his chest. He smelled of leather, and was generating his usual warmth, enough to dispel the slight chill of the house. She was only wearing the actuators' harness and the soft flannel pants that she had woken up in.

He slipped his arms around her, breathing the scent of her hair--still smelled like green apples along with the scent of hair. His hands warmed the small of her back, fingers rubbing the skin, and he smiled, his lips curving against her ear before he nibbled it lightly.

She sighed, sliding her hand into his hair. "Love it when you do that," she murmured against his neck.

"Mmmmm," he rumbled, lips teasing her ear. "I'll have to remember that," he breathed. His teeth lightly teased her earlobe and he ran his tongue over it, sucked on it and returned his teeth to it, his lips still hot and wet against it as well, moving lazily as he nibbled. His eyes were closed and his arms still wrapped around her waist, bending her back just a little.

She closed her eyes, her breath hitching slightly as ribs twinged. She leaned back against the actuators to relieve them, and curled one up around him, sliding across his shoulders.

He smiled against her neck, then pressed his lips against it as one hand slid to her hip and the other made its way up the back of her neck and into her hair. His fingers slipped under the waistband of her pants, warm against her hip.

She tipped her head back, wrapping her good leg around his hip as the actuators held her up. Turning her head, she caught his lower lip in her teeth lightly, and released it to kiss him.

His lips met hers, moved against them, then engulfed them as he drew in a slow breath through his nose, hand slipping further down her hips and over her bottom, warming the skin, fingers pressing against it. If at all possible, his heat increased, and an actuator wrapped around her.

She shifted against him, rubbing against his hip while her hand crept back into his hair, holding his mouth against hers while she kissed him hungrily. Her eyes fell shut again, lashes dark against her cheek, and she hummed happily.

He responded with a soft, growling purr. He curled around her, the hand at her head slipping down her back.

Her back arched against his hand, brand-hot on her skin, but then she spasmed forward with a choking sound as something in her ribs shifted, grating slightly. Pushing him abruptly away with an actuator, she curled in on herself, breathing as shallowly as she could and making a small, keening sound.

There was a period of silence as he caught his breath and apparently his dignity as well. One hand ran though his hair, pushing it back, and he slowly fastened the buttons of his coat. "Will you ... be all right?" he asked after a moment, not looking at her.

Breathing hard, she straightened up, her eyes closed and face pale. She crawled her fingers across her ribs, checking. No lumps, no unexplained depressions. Good. "Yes," she said, opening her eyes. "I guess we, uh, can't..."

"Not now, anyway," he replied, buttoning his collar. Behind it, his hair slicked back, his face abruptly expressionless, she noticed he looked exactly as she'd seen him seven years ago. Exactly how he looked in the photos. And never how he looked around her. Until now.

Clair looked at him, catching her breath. It was Doc Ock standing there, not Otto. The cold, vengeful criminal, rather than the man she knew so well. She'd seen the difference before, knew it for what it was. And it did not bode well for the health of the man in their basement.

He glanced back at her, then his actuators lifted him from the floor, and they made their sinuous way down the stairs, carrying him smoothly and effortlessly. His hands were clasped behind his back until he reached the laboratory door, which he opened and disappeared behind. She followed him, slowly, down into the lab, holding her sore ribs. In the room, she stayed by the door, just watching. Octavius stood over Spider-Man until the other stirred.

"Nnhh. Well 'f it isn' Ock. Back to h'rang me a li'l more?" the other slurred, still floating on the morphine.

"On the contrary, insect--"

"'rachnid..."

This interruption caused Octavius to growl in his throat. He leaned in close to Spider-Man's head. "Your glib tongue can only get you out of so much trouble," he said, his voice like claws on velvet. "And it has lost its efficacy."

"G'ssid better take iddin f'r th'refund, huh?" Spider-man slurred, ignoring Octavius' threats. He'd been threatened and harangued and talked at enough over the last three days to last a lifetime.
Octavius, however, continued, regardless. "You've been a thorn in my side for long enough, Spider-man. I shall enjoy watching you suffer as your neurons are stripped, one by one," he purred, leaning in very close now. "You knew I would eventually unmask you, didn't you? It was inevitable from the moment I brought you in here." One actuator claw slipped under the edge of Spider-man's mask. The other made no sound or attempt to move, breathing shallowly, watching his enemy. "Soon the world will know anyway. And I'll get the satisfaction denied me so long ago." He smiled a cold, evil smirk. "Say hello, Spider-Man." The actuator claw pulled the mask free.

Beneath it lay a shock of unruly brown hair over bruised yet nondescript features, dark brown eyebrows furrowed over half-open blue eyes. Stubble graced a fine but strong jaw. Despite the wear of three days of painful incarceration, there still lurked in his features something young and eager. His eyes narrowed to slits.

Curiosity drew Clair forward, and she narrowed her own eyes, then widened them. "I know him!" she exclaimed suddenly as memories resurfaced.

"Who is he?" Octavius asked, not taking his eyes off the man. His actuators swirled lazily around him, one placing the mask on a nearby counter top.

She chewed her lip a moment, trying to dredge up the name. "He used the university labs sometimes, doing research. Teaches at a high school downtown... Something with a P, Perkins, Patton, no, Parker! Peter Parker, I think."

The man winced and that was proof enough.

"Peter Parker..." Octavius mused. "The photographer who takes all the photographs of Spider-Man. Well, at least now we know how he manages to get such well-placed shots," he growled.

"That's right," she said. "And you were the photographer who came with that reporter from the Bugle to interview me after the first time I helped Otto. I thought you looked familiar then." She shook her head ruefully. "Absolutely the last person I would have believed."

"You'll see I'm full of surprises," Parker grated, forcing himself into lucidity, pulling against the restraints until his wrists ground against the metal and his injured arms screamed.

"Don't do that," Clair said, two actuators arching up to pin his shoulders down so he couldn't pull anymore, careful not to apply more pressure than necessary. "You'll do yourself more damage than you already have."

He grew still, his bloodshot gaze flicking between Octavius and Clair. For his part, Octavius stepped back somewhat, regarding his old enemy contemplatively. Parker. That name sounded terribly familiar. He grew still, silent, thinking. Clair watched them both. The hunt for Spider-Man had been such a driving part of Otto's life; what would he do now that it was over? Not retire, no. That wasn't in him. Time would tell, she supposed.

And Peter Parker. She'd barely met the older man, but this seemed so... out of character for him that she was having trouble grasping the reality of it. "I have to give you credit for your acting skills," she said, looking at him. "I thought you were the only person in the labs who was less coordinated than me."

"All part of the secret identity thing," he replied a little vaguely, "Did a good job up until now, I guess. Now Ock knows. Only thing that'd make it even better would be if he got on the phone and invited all his villain buddies in for the show."

"No, Otto works alone these days," she said, drifting over to the counter where her notes were still laid out. She looked over at him for confirmation and noticed that he appeared deep in thought. "Otto?"

"Hmm?" he said, distractedly. It was on the tip of his mind. Parker. Why did that name sound so familiar, and moreover, why did it bring up pleasant associations? his brow furrowed. He thought his memory had righted itself after that Zombie Virus dose. Granted, there were things everyone forgot, but still, this seemed too ... integral in his mind.

"Is there anything more you wanted with him before I start the tests? I'm even more curious now, to find out what turns someone from nerd into a superhero." She smiled, slightly sarcastic. Her ribs hurt too much to have much compassion for the subject, even she had known him once upon a time. "I may ... may," She repeated herself, losing her train of thought for a moment, then finding it. "I may need that MRI scanner. I know the ER downtown has a portable one."

"Mmmhm," Octavius said, barely paying attention. This memory problem was nagging him too much and Clair's words slipped past him until she snagged on the word "may." "May." It repeated in his mind as she said it three times in one sentence. May, may, may... May. It suddenly clicked and the vague image of an old lady, bright-eyed and smiling under a softly pulled bun of white hair suddenly appeared in his mind. May Parker. That was why the name sounded so familiar. And her nephew... Peter. "Heh," he said, and found himself laughing at this. "It really is a small world..."

Clair smiled to see Otto laugh, and it was Otto. Ock had gone again, back to whatever dark corner he occupied. For the moment, at least. "Oh?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, looking at nothing in particular. "May Parker, I finally remember. A lovely old lady I used to know a long time ago. She," here he chuckled quietly and indicated the trussed superhero. "Is this boy's aunt. A very small world, indeed."

"Good job you never succeeded in marrying her," Parker replied darkly.

Clair's eyebrows shot up and she looked to Otto for an explanation. "Now this is a story I want to hear."

Octavius blinked, brought up a little short in this sudden reference. "Marry? Oh, right, yes, I did try that, didn't I?"

"All to get your hands on the island she'd inherited that happened to have a nuclear reactor on it, wasn't it? You were real smooth, weren't'cha, Ock?"

Clair leaned back against the counter, watching Otto's consternation with amusement. She knew there had been women before her, but they'd never discussed them. "That's one word for it. I call it charismatic."

"Less commentary," Octavius grumbled, sounding almost offended. He took a breath. "I suppose, at its core, you would be right," he said to Parker. "It was my original intent. But only my original intent." His voice grew a little softer, but not by much. "Over time, I'd grown fond of her. She was the only person, at that time, who I could have considered a friend, after all. The only one who showed me kindness. I thoroughly expect you to refuse to believe me," he added when Parker took a breath to speak. "You did then, it seems. It would be inconsistent of you to do any differently now, after all."

There was a pause, and when Parker spoke, he said only, "I heard from MJ's aunt that Aunt May still has the ring you gave her. She was almost going to sell it on eBay, but decided not to. I can't imagine why."

"I suppose she could have garnered a decent sum for it," Octavius mused. Then he looked at Parker again and even behind the goggles it still seemed his gaze was hard. "Though I'd like to think, in a moment of arrogance, perhaps, that she kept it because she might still have a fond thought or two. She is perfectly capable of that, and more."

"It wouldn't be arrogance," Clair said, coming to stand by him and pitching her voice softly. "Anyone who gets inside your guard could tell that you're not as black as you've been painted."

Octavius looked down at her as though startled she'd say such a thing. He reached out a hand and ran it over her hair. "A rare sentiment, indeed," he said contemplatively, almost absently, his mind somewhere else.

Parker looked at them a little dubiously. "You two really ... really..." he seemed to search for the word.

She turned to look at Peter, her expression cool. "Is it that impossible to believe, Parker? We're both human, both reasonably intelligent people. I'd say the chances are far better than, say, the average mild-mannered science teacher willingly dressing up in spandex and fighting crime on the streets."

"It's not spandex, it's mega-mesh..." he muttered, ducking his head a little. Then he looked up again. "Wh--that's beside the point. I put on the mask as Spider-man because I feel I have to. What's your excuse for risking your life like every other woman Ock's had?"

She looked back at Otto, canting her head, considering, trying to put the thought into words. She was speaking to Peter, but her eyes never left Otto's. "Because he is my life. That's all there is to it. I made a choice, and I left behind everything that wasn't him. There's no question about risking my life, because without him, I wouldn't have one."

"Yeah, I'll bet Stunner said the same thing, huh?" Peter muttered darkly.

At that, Octavius went white, and perfectly still, save for an actuator that shot out and grabbed Parker's throat. "Never ... mention... her...again."

Clair turned to face Parker, not making a move to stop Otto. She knew the bug had crossed a line. She knew very little about Stunner, but one day, a few months ago, Otto had disappeared for the day and come home that night more melancholy than usual, ignoring her offer of dinner and spending the evening in his study with the lights out. That night, he had muttered that name in his sleep. She had sat awake for hours, just watching him, until he settled. They had never spoken about it. For Parker to bring her up, use her against him, was unforgivable.

"Gghhkk..." Parker rolled his eyes toward Clair, looking at her. "Sh'died... t'bring him...back..."

"Be QUIET!" Octavius suddenly roared, turning and striding to the table. "You know NOTHING of this! And yet you dare to bring up the idea, you dare to speak of what you've no comprehension!" The claw tightened and Parker went purple, veins standing out in his forehead and his eyes rolling back. "I have killed for less!"

In the midst of this, Clair answered Peter's comment, though whether he heard her or not would be debatable. "I would, too."

Again, Octavius went still. His head turned to look at her, and his expression was unreadable. Almost as though disbelief and shock warred in his mind... and maybe something else. He stared, the actuator loosening a tiny bit in his preoccupation, allowing Parker to gasp. "What..." he whispered.

Clair stepped forward on the actuators to stand in front of Otto, inches away, her face turned up to his, watching him over the rims of her glasses. "If it were necessary to save your life, I would give mine," she said simply, a serious little smile on her lips. The tableau held a moment, and she sent one of her actuators over to peel his away from Parker's throat, holding his gaze all the while.

"Don't ... make those kinds ... of promises..." he managed, as though his throat were tightening up, choking him. He turned away.

"Don't ask me not to," she responded, reaching out to turn his face back to hers.

She could just see, behind his goggles, two round black shapes. His eyes were wide. "She's not .. dead," he said after a moment, his voice neutral.

Parker blinked at him. This was apparently news.

Clair held his gaze, kept her voice level. "What happened to her, Otto?"

His lips moved slightly, soundlessly. "I didn't see it. I wasn't... there. Stunner... wasn't real, you know. Not as most see it. Virtual reality projection. She gave her life-force after ... apparently ... he escaped," A slight turn of his head toward Parker, "Thinking that she could fool the process. Stunner was ... obliterated. And Angelina--that was who she really was, you know, in a machine, wearing the form of Stunner--the energy created a feedback into the machine. Fried her neural pathways and left her in a coma. She's... still in that coma now. Waiting for someone to find out a way to wake her up. Because it never should have happened." He fell silent after that.

Clair's heart thumped unpleasantly when he described Stun- no, Angelina's condition. Neurological damage. All too easy to fix, for her. If Otto hadn't realized that yet, he would someday. She could hear the loss in his voice. She could give him back what he'd lost. If she said nothing, she would have the time until he realized that. And yet, "Otto," she found herself asking, her voice strange and broken in her ears. "How extensive is the neurological damage?"

"Vast." He looked away again. "All that is left is the barest of life-functions. They declared her brain-dead. And yet I --" he broke off. And it clicked. "Your virus," he said, looking at her again, realization making its way across his face. Stark, amazed realization. "Your virus could heal that damage."

She nodded, her face a careful and utter blank, walls erected behind her eyes. "Frank was brain-dead, too. I've done it before. I can do it again. I will, if you ask it of me."

He appeared to think this over. Options flickered through his mind. His eyebrows lifted, almost as though some kind of hope came to him. They dropped. He sighed. "It's been more than ten years," he said contemplatively. "We wouldn't even know until she woke up if her memory would be intact or not."

"You won't know unless we try," she pointed out, forcing a hopeful smile onto her face. It didn't reach her eyes. They had both forgotten that Spider-Man was there, that anything else was there.

Octavius frowned, looking into her eyes. "What are you hiding?" he asked after a moment.

"I'm not hiding anything," she said, blinking. "We can do this, bring her back."

"No, your eyes look different. There's a barrier there. What are you hiding, tell me!"

It wasn't going to happen. She couldn't tell him her fears, that with Angelina back, he would leave her, wouldn't need her anymore. So she smiled, and forced the distance from her eyes. They stung. "I'm not hiding anything," she repeated.

"You're lying," he said, sounding as though he had just come to a realization. "Do not lie to me!"

"What is there to be lying about?" she asked. "You know how the serum works. You know better than anyone else. You've seen what it can do. It can bring her back. It can't restore her memories if they've been destroyed, but it can bring her out of the coma. I know she was... is important to you, Otto." Control slipped, her voice shook slightly. Maybe he didn't hear it.

His gaze held her, searchingly, for several more moments. "You're afraid," he said. "I can hear it"

She didn't answer, but looked away, a muscle jumping at the corner of her jaw. A long moment passed before she spoke. "Yes."

"What are you afraid of?" he asked with the air of someone tired of chasing an answer.

"If she wakes up, what will you do?" she asked quietly, staring fixedly at the wall beside her.

He opened his mouth to reply and there was no reply. He had no idea. The past and the present offered their opportunities, but they could not be chosen amongst. Past or present. Angelina or Clair. Always or, never and. And he couldn't choose. "I don't ... know..." The realization made him uneasy. He didn't like not knowing things.

She didn't move. She wanted to go to him, have him embrace her and let his warmth chase away the chill that was stealing her strength and settling into her broken bones, but it would be emotional blackmail. She wouldn't stoop to that. "Let's bring her back. Any... decision that needs to be made... can be made after that."

"You're ... afraid I'll leave you," he said with that same tone of realization. As though it were the last thing he could have possibly expected.

Her hand opened, shut fitfully against her leg. She watched it intently, looking anywhere but him. "Yes," she said, a bare whisper of sound.

Parker watched this, his eyes flicking warily between Holmes and Ock. Back and forth his gaze went, watching her become quieter and smaller and more defeated looking, watching him become more lost and adrift and puzzled. It was the strangest thing he'd seen in a very long time. His eyes flicked back to Octavius.

For his part, Octavius stepped closer, ducking to look at her, then reaching out one hand to turn her head so that she looked at him. "Why ... would you think that?" he asked. It was an answer he needed terribly.

She fought to keep the stinging in her eyes from becoming tears. "You loved her," she said quietly. "It's obvious."

"Yes. I did. I still do. But that won't make me leave you. Not when I'd promised I would stay here, with you." Not exactly the tone of a reassuring lover, his words sounded more like the tone of someone who had something right in front of him and couldn't understand why the other person didn't believe it existed.

Her shoulders shook, just once, as she caught her breath. "Love is more important than a promise," she said painfully. She couldn't tell if her heart was still beating or not. Her chest felt like an ice cavern, hollow and cold.

His brows twitched together in confusion before relaxing. "I won't leave you," he said decisively, an air of determination to it. A beat. "I can't," he blurted.

"Why?" she asked, still not taking her eyes from his face. If he was saying this out of some misplaced sense of duty or debt... But Otto wouldn't do that, would he?

"Because I ... can't imagine life without you here..." he said, mystified, words tumbling out of the deepest parts of his mind before he even had a chance to catch them.

She crumbled, taking one stumbling step forward and wrapping her arm around him, all four actuators laying close to the ground behind her, out of sight and mind. Her head pressed against his chest as fine trembling wracked her, and her breath came in strange little gasps.

He put his arms around her carefully. "You're chilled," he observed after a moment.

She nodded faintly against his chest, trying not to cry. She was stronger than this! "You're what keeps me warm."

His hand slipped briefly over her hair, then rested on her forehead again. "Are you feeling unwell?"

That caught her, forced a surprised laugh from her. She tightened her hug on him for a moment, then let go, stepping back and composing herself. "No, Otto, I'm fine. I'm sorry for being such an emotional headcase."

He slipped his hand through her hair again. "Keep it together better in the future," he said, a smile tugging at his lips..

Clair's tentative smile widened at his jest. "I'll try," she answered in kind. Then her eyes tracked sideways to Spider-Man, who had, incredibly enough, remained silent through the whole thing. Maybe the joking had come away with the mask. "Should we get back to work, then?"

"Aw, and here I was kinda hoping all these revelations would prompt you to let me go," Parker said, pulling at the bindings again.

"I wouldn't be much of a scientist, then, would I?" Clair answered, though she didn't pull away from Otto's hand just yet.

"Sure you would," Parker replied, a hopeful look on his face. "You'd just be a good scientist instead of, y'know, an evil one."

Clair turned to look at him. "No, you're confusing scientist with person. I'd be a bad scientist, but a good person if I let you go. Fortunately, I'm neither of those."

Strangely, Octavius felt a small swell of pride in his chest at hearing her speaking to Parker like this. He slipped his fingers through her hair one last time, then stepped back, watching her.

"A good scientist," she elaborated, lifting herself on the actuators and stepping past Parker to the Tesla scanner in the corner, drawing it on its wheeled trolley to stand by his head. "Gathers all available data from any given source." She turned it on, fiddling with the knobs and straightening the leads for the small sensors, adjusting settings. One claw gripped Parker's head to hold him still while she placed the tiny sensors on his temples, his forehead, and other places around his skull. "This won't hurt," she said as she fixed the last one in place behind his ear.

Parker couldn't help it, he rolled his eyes in an attempt to see the Tesla scanner, moving his head back as much as the claw would permit. Even now, with his life on the line, his inner geek couldn't help but watch the machines.

She finished the calibrations, and the small bank of monitors came alive with wavering, green lines. Looking down at Peter, she saw his interest. "It separates the information it's receiving from your brain by where it's coming from," she explained, gesturing to various sets of lines. "Wernick's Area, brainstem, temporal lobe." She tapped one screen, where the line was more active than the others around it, spiking up and down. "Sensory cortex. I'd give you more morphine for that pain, but it would interfere with the test."

"Ehhh... yeah," he said, putting his head back where it was before to ease the sudden pain in his neck. "Can't mess up the test..."

Octavius stood nearby, leaning against a counter top, arms folded, watching the proceedings as his actuators snaked slowly and continuously around him, unconsciously by now.

Clair watched the rhythms for a moment, taking notes on a pad held by an actuator. Then she turned her back on Peter, arranging some vials on a tray.

A beat passed and suddenly Parker's spider-sense tingled as he watched her. His eyes narrowed and readouts spiked on the Tesla sensor. Octavius shifted, getting a better view of the machine, his interest only barely disguised by his still deliberately nonchalant posture and the inscrutable goggles.

One actuator shot out and smashed down next to his neck, close enough that a claw nicked the skin and with enough force to dent the metal table, puncturing it slightly. Clair turned around calmly, watching the machine. A button wound the scan back, replaying the spike. "Interesting. It is entirely precognitive. How do you do that?" Her tone was simple curiosity as she watched the waves settle back towards their former states. She looked up at Otto. "He can see your strike coming almost as soon as you form the intent, I think."

"An ability to see five seconds or so into the future," Octavius mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "That would explain a few things. Yes, Spider-man, tell us. How do you do it?"

"I dunno," came the glib, wide-eyed reply. "Dunno how I does it, I jez does it," he nattered.

The attempt at humor caused Octavius to scowl. "No use in asking him, then," He said. "Something to do with his peculiar arachnid-related abilities, perhaps? It is said, after all, that spiders are able to sense danger."

"Hmmm..." Clair watched the readings, tapping one finger against the side of her leg, thinking. Her hand shot out, indicating the groups of lines labeled 'cerebellum.'" These readings are odd. Almost as if there's interference. But there shouldn't be any other structures there to be interfering. I want to take a look in there."

"That doesn't sound good..." Parker gulped. Truth be told, it was getting harder and harder to keep up the glib patter these people knew him for.

Octavius came closer to the machine, peering at the readouts. "It almost looks as though... it's picking up a second set of unfamiliar signals. As of ... another brain. Barely-formed, but there." He looked at Parker. Parker blenched.

Clair considered it. "You're right," she said, looking back and forth between the screen and Parker. Her fingers twitched slightly and the upper left actuator extended a scalpel almost unconsciously, but then she withdrew it and shook her head. "It would be a waste to take him apart just to satisfy my curiosity. I can see it just as well in an MRI."

"Uh, gee, thanks, I think," Parker observed.

Octavius stepped back again, once more allowing her room. "This is true," he rumbled, gazing at the readouts.

She looked at him pointedly. "I don't have an MRI, Otto. The ER downtown, on the other hand, does." She was a little surprised. He was usually, as he had demonstrated the other day with the now-unnecessary micro-surgical array, very observant about what she needed for her lab. She very rarely had to even hint, let alone ask outright. But she didn't blame him for being distracted today, not when his arch enemy, to use a cliche but imminently appropriate phrase, was at his mercy at last.

He raised an eyebrow at that. "I am not an errand boy," he growled, though softly, without malice.

"Well, I can't carry it," she persisted gamely. "It's about the size of my car."

"You probably could," Octavius replied, eyeing her actuators and lounging against the counter, arms folded again, his own actuators snaking lazily about him. To Parker's continually confounded view, the whole thing took on the air of a familiar back-and-forth.

She brought her actuators forward, examining them. Not as powerful-looking as his by a significant amount, they were nonetheless decidedly un-fragile. She looked at the damage she had done to her sturdy table. It could be possible. "Even if I could lift it," she admitted. "I can't drag it all the way back here by myself." She smiled up at him, her expression mischievous.

"Then I suppose you might have to be .. aided in this endeavors, am I right?" he asked, a smile playing at the corners of his own mouth.

Great. Flirting supervillains., Parker thought sourly. This is so many levels of wrong...

"You're thinking that person ought to be me?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Unless you think I should go ask the Lizard or the Goblin for a tutorial?" She tried to make her face innocent, but her mouth wouldn't co-operate, one corner twisting upwards.

"Those two? They couldn't teach a bird to fly," Octavius huffed. He sighed. "I suppose I'll have to do it. You are, after all most closely associated with me." Here he allowed himself a smirk. "Though you might want to put on something warmer before we leave."

Smiling, she looked down at herself. "I suppose you're right. I don't have any green spandex, but I'll find something appropriate, I'm sure."

This time Octavius had to fight to keep his amusement down. His mouth twitched anyway and he made a short snerk sound before regaining his aloof attitude. "I doubt there's any about to acquire, anyway. Go and find something and we shall head out. I'm sure the boy will keep for now."

Part of Peter Parker wanted to escape. The other part wanted to see how this turned out, because it was so very different to the typical behavior of his enemies. It was like watching some bizarre soap opera.

She smirked and set down her notebook. One actuator curled lazily against Otto's leg, as if on accident, as she moved past him out the door and up the stairs. Her shoulders shook with laughter suppressed as she went into their room, stepping over the nest and digging into her rather limited closet. She did take a moment longer to choose her clothes than she usually would have, but mostly because she was reluctant to tear holes in any of her few shirts. After a moment's indecision, she chose the blue-gray sweater that she'd worn on that mad road trip through Canada the year before. The necessary alterations made, she pulled it on, completing the 'outfit' with black pants and shoes. She caught a glimpse of herself in the closet mirror; she looked actually very much like she had seven years ago, when she met him. A more experienced face, perhaps, but little other change.

She went back down to the lab, remembering seeing her coat on the couch there. "I'm ready," she said to Otto, threading it on over the arms.

His fingers drew over her sweater's collar, feeling the softness of the knit. He remembered that sweater. A strangely appropriate choice. His eyes flicked to Parker. "I don't think I need to tell you of the consequences of any action so foolish as escape," he said. Parker nodded.

Octavius looked at Clair again, seeing her clad in a longcoat from under which gleaming actuators snaked, and again felt a strange swelling of pride. Again, a smile flickered across his features, then was gone. "Come, then," he said, and walked out the door. She followed and the lab was quiet.

In that quiet, Peter Parker had a lot of things to think about and the foremost was: why hadn't they left a television on while they were gone?

Ah well.