Snuggles the Symbiote

Several Years Ago

Patrick O'Leary the junior was housesitting for his son and daughter in law. Well, housesitting was a bit of an extreme word for it, they'd only been gone a few hours and would at most be gone for a few more. Really, they just needed someone to periodically check on the air cleaners and be there if someone came calling.

He tried not to think about it, the reason for Sean and Yuri's extended day trip, but still his thoughts came to his granddaughter. Little Ashley, his bright-eyed, intelligent, optimistic grandchild was sick. sick, and they werren't sure what. She kept getting bad infections, ones that medicine didn't seem to help with, the once energetic child could barely stand, and according to his daughter-in-law, she'd started getting a weird rash or something on her back. They'd been doing everything to minimize the risk of infection while the doctor ran every test there was to try and figure it out.

Today, Ashley was getting genetic screening done. Sean was getting genetic screening, and Yuri, and Yuri's sister Yuki. He'd be there too if they hadn't wanted to have someone to make sure that the apartment stayed safe for Ashley, becuase they'd narrowed it down to something genetic. If necessary, he'd go in to get it done later.

He distracted himself with a 24-hour news channel, but he couldn't invest himself in any of it. 'Superhuman registration this' and 'protesting a company for discrimination that.' Honestly, he thought that predjudices like that, against powers, race, religion, sexuality... It was all so stupid. He had proof of its stupidity: His father had disowned him for marrying a Chinese woman. Patrick had been an only child, and his mother had passed years before, so his disinheritance had left his father with no one. Patrick Senior died alone and bitter, while Patrick Junior had lived an amazing life with his beloved winter plumb until she passed, had a son who'd grown into a successful man, he'd had numerous interesting experiences—how many people could say that the God of Thunder had bought them and several others a pint becuase he liked how he and the other patrons of the pub handled themselves when a Friend of Humanity type got drunk and violent and started ranting about mutants ruining the country. Wasn't particularly smart of him to do it at that particular pub, since the owner and bartender of the establishment was an open mutant and the mutant power to be really good at chemistry might not be that useful in fight without time to prepare, but it did make for a damn fine craft beer that's reputation attracted the interest of a literal God and his friends the Demigod and the Immortal Candian.

But, back to Patrick Senior. The funny thing about disinheriting someone? It doesn't take if they're your only remaining relatives. There wasn't much inheritance. Or rather, there wasn't much that he'd wanted. His father had, in his age, blown his entire savings on a vintage car that he couldn't even drive by the time he'd bought it and his childhood house had been devoid of untainted memories or knickknacks of sentimental value, just a few things that Patrick's mother had wanted him to have, which he'd already taken by the time he left. There was only enough liquid money to barely cover his father's final debts and the cost of the funeral.

He'd arranged for a simple, dignified funeral service, as his father would have wanted, and then when the priest had finished, the diggers had covered the casket, and the mourners, acquaintances of his father more than friends, had left, Patrick Junior had spat on his father's grave, sold the house to young couple in need of a good home for far less than it was worth, sold the Rolles Royce to a collector, and put all of that money into Sean's college fund and that had been the last he'd ever seriously thought of his father.

Well, until Sean had met Yuri. His daughter-in-law's very traditional Japanese father hadn't been happy about his daughter starting a relationship with a mixed white-and-Chinese man at first. But Patrick had spoken to him. They'd argued. Loudly. Then... Honestly, he couldn't remember what happened next through the hangover he had the next morning, but at somepoint, they'd started drinking and sharing their life stories and the man had given his blessing after that. Of course, they'd fought again over who would pay for the wedding, but in general, the man had been a good friend until cancer took him just a few months before Ashley was born.

About four hours into his vigil over the apartment, the sound of the door being unlocked and opened drew him from his reminiscence. First in walked his daughter-in-law, who looked angry, and then in came his son carrying his adorable granddaughter. She hadn't been changed out of her Spider-Man Pajamas before they left. they only way to tell that she wasn't just a normal girl asleep in her father's arms was the surgical mask she wore whenever she left the apartment to avoid an airborne infection.

As Sean carried Ashley to her bedroom, Yuri closed the door behind him and then turned to him. "Patrick. I know you have a flask on you. Give it to me."

Her tone made it abundantly clear that Patrick would not be able to successfully argue either his ignorance of her claim or his desire to keep it and so pulled it from the hidden pocket in his sweater and handed it to her. People always thought it was weird that a proud Irishman preferred Kentucky Bourbon over Irish Whiskey. Patrick himself thought it was far more strange that his light framed daughter-in-law could down an entire flask of the stuff without seeming to become intoxicated. This was not the first time it happened, but it only happened when she was pissed about something.

"Wasn't your sister with you?" He asked, somewhat hesitating.

"We don't talk about Yuki anymore. Yuki is dead to me," Yuri said in stone-cold seriousness. "With any luck, Ashley will forget that Yuki even exists and she'll never have to worry about it."

Patrick didn't know what to say to that, but Sean came back and sat down.

"We have a general idea of why she's getting sick," he said, "and the name of a specialty clinic that can help. And the rash isn't a rash... We're going to tell her it's a birthmark. But the bad news is that, even if she gets better, she's going to have a rough life."

"Sean. What's wrong?"

"Ashley's a mutant," his son said. "The screening says pretty much everything, the constant infections, the red mark, how weak and tired she's been getting, it's all tied to the X-gene. She mutated wrong or something. The tests say she gets it from me."

"Okay," Patrick said. He wasn't sure how they'd prepare her for the shit she was going to get when she was older, but at least maybe they could find a way to help her.

"But... You told me once that my great grandfather had this symbol tattooed behind his ear? What did it look like?"

"Why?" He asked.

"Uh, while we were in, the doctor checked on the mark on her back because it's been changing shape and color and... Maybe it'd be best if we just showed you?"

A few minutes later, Patrick was in Ashley's bedroom with his sleeping grandchild turned on her side and the back of her shirt pulled up so show a red symbol. Four wedges around an oval with a sharp line splitting it.

"That's it. That's the tattoo," he said as his blood ran cold.

Later that Night.

At his own apartment, that evening, Patrick looked over a letter. His grandfather, William Slade, the bastard son of an Englishman. The drunken bastard that was obsessed with Egyptians. He'd written it and passed it onto his daughter with instruction to keep passing it down until one of his descendants had some kind of supernatural powers.

Of course, Patrick had been curious and opened the letter himself. Years ago. That's how he knew about Clan Akkaba. About how he, his son, and his grandchild had trace amounts of ancient Egyptian in their blood. About where the mutant gene that Ashley had inherited came from. Instructions to contact Clan Akkaba once their birthright had been restored so they could take their rightful place. He'd dismissed it as a joke until the Ancient Mutant Apocalypse—his ancestor, En Sabah Nur—had resurfaced a few years ago. Then he started to get worried.

He read the old letter one last time... And then he stood, walked into his kitchen, and burned the letter on his stove. He prayed to whatever god would listen that their connection to the ancient monster would never come to light and never cause Ashley any distress. That Ashley could just have a quiet, happy life.

Then he grabbed his coat and went out to his favorite pub to drown his worries in a mutant made microbrew.

AN: This wasn't planned, really. I was gonna do a short flashback side story becuase the whim hit me but then as I thought about it I felt it made more sense as a proper Interlude, albeit a flashback one.