There were better things Peter Parker could be doing on a late Thursday evening that was really an early Friday morning using the New York Transit System to get to Westchester. But he didn't really have a choice. As always, he needed the money. The governor of New York was having a special media event in Westchester which, for reasons of pretend urgency, had to start at six in the morning right on the dot. The possibility that the governor could run for the presidency next year was one reason the Daily Bugle was taking an interest. The other reason was that as part of various "Industrial policy" measures, Governor Cuomo was announcing various technological programs. And Peter was the one Bugle staffer, or sort of staffer, who knew enough about the subject to ask intelligent questions.
Various thoughts went through his mind as he rode the subway. The fact that he probably wasn't going to get enough sleep pressed heavily on his mind. He also worried that he had taken the job so quickly that he wasn't wearing enough clothes for the colder weather expected tomorrow. But he was also thinking about his recent encounters with the Hobgoblin. I really can't believe he was Flash Thompson. In fact, I quite literally can't believe it. Clearly the Hobgoblin had some scientific ability, since he had been able to reinvent several of the original Green Goblin's formulas. While not stupid, Flash Thompson had never shown any particular skill or even interest in the subject. Peter rubbed his forehead as he feared a headache might be coming on from lack of sleep.
There weren't many other people in the subway car. The closest one to him was several seats away. She was a quiet thin young woman with long dark hair, possibly a teenager whom Peter correctly realized was Indian-American. As it happened, Danielle Moonstar was one of the few people in the tristate area whose position was clearly worse than Peter's. Although I have no reason to complain she thought. After all, I'm no longer dead, so I should look on the bright side! She had been killed, along with seven of her eight fellow New Mutants, by the incomparably powerful Beyonder who, just as mercurially, restored them to life. Six of the seven were so traumatized that Magneto had no choice to let Emma Frost help them at her Massachusetts Academy. The stress was so much that Magneto was turning to drink. As for Danielle, she desperately needed anything to take her mind off this. Like going to New York and spending nine and a half hours watching Shoah. Well it certainly worked, she thought. Now she felt incredibly guilty for having escaped death so easily. Not that everything was all right. Some time, whether it be weeks or months or years, something very bad indeed would happen to her and all the extended X-Men community. But it wouldn't be as bad as the Holocaust! So there!
There was a stop and three young men got in. Peter's spider sense immediately alerted him to their potential threat. One of them eyed him warily and looked around for easier prey. A quick perusal suggested Danielle.
"Hey could you help us with some money?" he asked, with his two associates in tow.
"Get lost," Danielle replied, without looking up.
"I really think you should help us with some money." And he put his hand on her shoulder.
Danielle looked up. "Are you touching me?"
"Of course I am you stupid…"
"That's assault," Danielle noted calmly. Then she very quickly grabbed the offending hand very tightly, while kicking out one of his legs, calling him to fall to the floor.
"What the hell? You kicked him," said the closer of the two other thugs, who drew out a knife.
"He was clumsy," Danielle replied, without changing the tone of her voice. Then before anyone else could react, she grabbed the second miscreant's arm and yanked him into the first one, causing him to fall as well. "So are you."
The two got up and the third made threatening moves. But now Peter had gotten up, looking at them coldly, while Danielle's glare showed she was not afraid. Another stop came up, and the three decided to quickly flee.
As the subway car moved away from that station, Peter approached Danielle. "Are you all right? I'm sorry, I should have helped earlier."
"Thank you, I can take care of myself."
"So I see."
There was a pause. Peter wondered if she had met this woman before. Meanwhile, Danielle had little trouble recognizing Peter's voice as that of Spider-Man's. But just then something very strange happened. It only happened to Danielle, and it was hard to describe exactly what it was. It was a not a sensation, nor an occurrence. And it was not clear why Danielle experienced it. Was it some unknown aspect of her powers? Was it a consequence of being recently restored to life, or having recently been in Asgard? Did it have something to do with having a time traveler as a teammate? Whatever caused it, whatever it was, it was very special and it would only last for a short period of time.
"Sit down," she said. Peter did so, a few feet from Danielle. "I have something very important to tell you. Listen very carefully, and don't interrupt or ask questions. We have very little time.
"You think you may be in love with two women. In fact you only genuinely love one, but we can talk about that later. The first woman is unusually beautiful. She is adventurous, fun-loving, and slightly amoral in a way that men find erotic. Unlike the other she will not worry too much about you risking your life, since she is so excited by risking her own. If you were to marry her, you would live a pleasurable life. Perfectly acceptable children, enjoyable adventures, more than enough wealth from your wife's ill-gotten gains, even the occasional adventure when you provide invaluable assistance to genuine heroes two or three times a year. Also sex. Quite a lot, in fact. It's sort of like one of those pornographic fantasies. The problem is that it's not your fantasy, it's hers. As you once memorably recognized a few years ago, and should realize a few years from now, your identity isn't simply a name or a genetic coding. It's also your relationships with other people and how they make you. And the only one of all those relationships she cares about is yours with her. You will try to change her, but as time goes on, you'll see the need for compromise. But the only one who compromises is you. You could be very happy marrying her, but you could be so much more if you didn't.
"I don't want to say she's a bad woman. She has many virtues. She could even learn to appreciate the real you. Perhaps there could be a way to make her the best person she could be. But your love is not the key that will unlock her special self. And, not to mix Freudian metaphors, your desire is definitely not going to be that key either. And she will compromise herself, even more than being a thief already does. There is a man, he will shortly murder, not quite a friend, but more than an acquaintance, an honorable if somewhat irritating police officer. Then he will murder a friend of yours. A close friend, you were the best man at his wedding. You understandably want to know who that friend is. But it doesn't matter. You won't remember any of this once I finish talking to you.
"You've known the second woman much longer and with much more depth. As it happens, she is also stunningly beautiful. Your life is not blessed with much good luck or happiness, but there is that. You can take it for what it's worth. Anyway, you even asked this second woman to marry you before you met the first one. That was a bad idea then, you both were keeping secrets from each other. But now both of you know them. I'm trying to be objective and unbiased. But I'm not going to pretend to be neutral. In my view, you'd be nuts not to marry the second woman. I know you have a strong sense of duty. I know you would die to be loyal to your friends. Well now you can be loyal to someone who not only loves you back and is reasonably strong and moral, but is also fun, vivacious, humorous and, as I said before, stunningly beautiful. Also, there's sex. I mean, I don't want to belabor the subject. On the one hand, neither of you is really into loveless trysts. But you're both definitely of an age where your sex drive is higher than normal. So once you actually get married, you will both be very happy on that score, even though there will be no shortage of horrible things that happen to you. Including one really wild thing that happens right after your honeymoon. Come to think of it, you will have a happier sex life than not only me, but all of my friends. I mean I have one friend who just a couple of months ago whined 'I'm going to die a virgin.' And he did. And then he'll die a virgin a second time less than a year from now, and this time for real.
"I'm sorry, that's a bit tasteless. I'm sure you've been told you can't base a marriage on sex. Well you won't have to worry about that. Because you're both strong individuals who work together and occasionally argue with each other to make you both better people. You need someone who respects what you do, while at the same time having both the common sense to realize that what you do is often objectively crazy and being strong enough to remind you of it. Likewise, you make her realize that being there for other people isn't just something that gets in the way of your career. And if you start with that you can become so much more. So instead of almost being the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue cover model, she can become a great actress. And instead of just being a somewhat peculiar vigilante, you can be the hero you need to be and should be.
"So that's the choice you have in front of you. And listening to what I've said you may think it an easy choice. But here's the thing. Once we stop at Westchester and get out, you're not going to remember a thing I told you. You will, in fact, make a choice yourself in the upcoming months and nothing that I've said and will say will have the slightest effect on you. But I know one thing. You're a Queens man, and you wouldn't be one if you weren't more skeptical and cynical than most Americans. And what is really going through your mind this very instant is 'What's the catch?'"
As he looked outside of the Westchester station, Peter tried to orient himself and get his bearings. In particular he was looking for the address where he would sleep for a few hours before the governor's event. He noticed Danielle walking several hundred feet away. "Do you need a ride?"
"Don't worry, I've got one," she replied.
Peter turned his head, and didn't notice Danielle meeting her magical winged Asgardian horse Brightwing and mounting her. His spider-sense tingled as the horse took flight, but calmed down and faded as it flew away from him. As Danielle flew towards Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in the cold, actually after midnight air, a single tear rolled down her eye as she realized she was forgetting the last words she said to Peter.
"The catch of course, is that while marring her offers you the chance of being better, it also means that everything is likely to be so much more difficult. There's no shortage of horrible alternate realities to concern yourself with. My personal nightmare is the one where giant robots kill me and all my friends, and also bring the planet to the brink of nuclear war. There are numerous long and winding roads to happiness, and on many of them one or both do not make it. And that's not the worst thing. Quite frankly, she will experience things that no woman should have to endure. Nor should you, for that matter. There's no shortage of horrible things facing both of you, testing you, often killing you. And here is one thing in particular. I don't know how to help you, because this threat is very powerful and very cunning. You can't resist it by simple strength or force of will. You can't face it openly. But perhaps there is one thing. You've heard of the New Age right? You think it's superstitious rubbish, an insult to your scientific mind. And you're right to do so, even though you've encountered no shortage of magical things yourself. I'm not asking you to consider something true in it, which would basically be a waste of your time. But there may be something, something in the chants, or in the historical myths or oversimplifications, maybe something in the pseudo-science it prefers to the real science. Maybe it's a ceremony, like something for marriage, or a miscarriage or for menstruation. Because the key thing, is that at one point, at one absolutely vital point in your life, you will have to remember."