Reckless

They don't make Gwen wait very long at all to see Connors. She is probably only sitting in the waiting room for five minutes before someone ushers her in and tells her down the stairs and to the left, room number six, and to tell the attendant she has permission to speak with him in private. Apparently he has been on good behavior in his three years of imprisonment and has been granted that much liberty.

She has so little time in the waiting room that she has barely decided how she is going to approach him. Now that she is actually descending the stairs, she feels a little bit unsure of herself. Connors has been locked up since she was still in high school. How on earth could he be responsible for anything happening in the outside world? Who could even reach him in here, that they wouldn't have some sort of record of? She checked at the desk when she signed herself in—Connors hasn't had a single visitor in all of his time here. It really doesn't make any sense.

The only scenario she can think of is that Connors gave the code to someone else, before the whole morphing into a giant lizard and subsequent bio-terrorism thing happened.

She walks in, sucks in a breath, full of confidence and bravado that for a moment she can trick herself into thinking she possesses. But the instant her eyes lock with his, she feels this inexplicable fear that seems to radiate from the back of her neck, the closest thing to a fight-or-flight response that she can actually identify feeling.

This is the man who killed her father.

Suddenly she is not at all composed. Her knees are shaking and her teeth are grinding and as he looks up at her with moping, sorrowful eyes she feels the urge to ball her hands into fists and punch the expression right off his face—she doesn't need his pity, it is the very last thing that she wants in this world, and just knowing that he has been in this cell feeling sorry for her, feeling sorry for himself, makes her want to physically hurt him in a way that she has never wanted to hurt someone before. It is basic, it is primal, and as the attendant shuts the door behind them, it takes every ounce of Gwen's willpower not to strike him.

"Gwen." The man's voice is hoarse and tired and unlike she has ever heard it before. He looks sallow and sick. She thinks it is nowhere near punishment enough. "I know why you're here."

She neck jerks in a crude attempt to shake her head. Her muscles won't respond properly to the signals from her brain.

"No, you don't."

Connors closes his eyes and a weary sigh escapes him. She waits, and it feels like the room is absurdly small, because there is nothing else to look at but white walls and white bed sheets and this man who occupies every empty, angry space of hatred in her heart.

"Gwen," he says. "Words will never begin to express my regret—for what I did to you, for what I did to your family—"

"Save it," says Gwen. She doesn't want to hear this, doesn't want to think of him as something human, not now, not ever. She will not grant him the relief of apologizing.

"Gwen," he starts again. "Please—"

"Six, four, seven, eight, two."

"What?"

Only now does he look at her with that old alertness and curiosity she remembers him for so well. Unfortunately for him, he also does a poor job of hiding his guilt, and the way he is wringing his hands and not quite holding her gaze is all the confirmation she needs that he is involved in whatever happened a few days ago, or is at least very aware of it.

"You didn't think I'd still be working at OsCorp, did you?" she says, leaning in slightly, watching him squirm. "You didn't think I'd be there to recognize the code that broke someone into one of our most controversial labs, after one of our most crucial breakthroughs—did you?"

Connors at least has never been one to beat around the bush. "Honestly, no, I didn't."

"Who is it? Who did you give the code to, and what do they want?" she demands.

He shakes his head. "Gwen, please. It's better if you just stay out of this, for your own safety."

"Oh, because that's always been on the forefront of your mind," she says. She tries very hard to keep her voice down, knowing there's an attendant not too far out in the hallway. "Don't you dare patronize me, Connors, not now. I have been through hell and back in the last few years. You tell me what's going on, and you tell me right now."

"I don't want you sticking your head into this—as long as nobody is hurt, I don't see why—"

"Nobody is hurt? Is that really what you think?" asks Gwen. "Because whoever it was you let in, they beat my co-worker unconscious—not to mention nearly got Spiderman killed."

At this Connors raises his eyebrows. "The Parker boy? Is he alright?"

Gwen feels her blood freeze. "You … know that … Peter is—"

"He wasn't exactly subtle about it," says Connors. "I hope he has been since."

Gwen wracks her brain for any instance Peter might have given himself away. Was it at the school, or before then? It occurs to her that the attack on the school might not have been random—she and Peter never really discussed it after the fact, but maybe Connors had known, maybe he was specifically looking for Peter to finish him that day.

"If you've told anyone," she says, panic suddenly bubbling in her chest, "if you ever—"

"Never," says Connors emphatically. "I owe his father debts that can never be repaid. The very least I can do is keep his identity a secret."

"How about confessing to my father's murder?" says Gwen. "Because the police are blaming him. He can barely show his face in the city without getting shot at."

"I have confessed," says Connors wearily. "Nobody wants to hear testimony from a madman."

"Try again," Gwen demands.

"I don't know how much I have left in me these days."

"What?" Gwen almost splutters, she is so enraged and shocked. "What do you mean, you don't have it in you? You killed my father, you're responsible for the manhunt on the boy I love and you just don't have it in you to fix any of it?"

Connors looks down at his hands. She can see dark brown spots sinking into his skin where there weren't any before.

"I'm dying."

Gwen wants to roll her eyes. "Aren't we all?" she says unkindly.

"No, Gwen, I'm dying." Connors lifts her head up and for the first time she really considers his face, how sunken and old it looks. How his one arm has almost shriveled with waste. "It seems there were complications after prolonged exposure to the serum that created the Lizard. My organs are slowly starting to fail."

Gwen is an intelligent girl. It doesn't take her very long to connect the dots.

"You need our project. You need those equations to figure out how to—what? Grow yourself new organs?"

"Re-grow them," Connors corrects her.

Gwen balks at him. "We can't do that."

Connors nods. "Not with what you have so far. But I can."

"What—what are you talking about?"

"The same reason why Norman Osborne was so adamant about keeping me on staff," he says, a noticeably bitter edge to his voice. "I'm a step ahead of everyone else."

"So you are the one responsible for the break in. What did you do? Give someone the code? Who is it?"

"I don't know," says Connor. "I don't know who he is or what he wants, or how he even gets in my cell."

Gwen shakes her head. "You have to be straight with me." He looks so tired and worn, just sagging his head pitifully in response, but she can't conjure the tiniest bit of sympathy for him. She throws her words out like a whip. "You owe me so much more than that."

"I'm telling you all that I can. There is a man—he is very tricky, using all these smoke and mirrors to sneak in here. I think he tried to break in to OsCorp and failed, and then he came back and struck me a deal. My code in exchange for whatever he could copy from the files in the lab."

"You think I'm going to believe this? Don't insult me," says Gwen, scowling at him.

Connors sighs again. It seems as if it is all he has the energy to do. "I'm not making this up."

Gwen's laugh is low and bitter. "Alright, then. Where is your miraculous cure, then, huh?"

The corner of Connor's mouth twitches. "He didn't come back. I had a feeling he wouldn't." He is back to wringing his hands, and pallor of his skin is so thin and weak that she looks away from him in disgust. "It was a foolish hope."

"A selfish hope," says Gwen.

"You're young. Everything is still black and white for you. You'll see—the world, particularly the scientific world—there is never a clear line between right and wrong."

Gwen shakes her head. She will not be patronized by this gutless, egocentric man. "You're full of excuses, aren't you?" she says, already finished with this conversation, fully aware that she will not get anything more useful out of him. She props her bag higher up on her shoulder.

"Gwen," he says, sensing that she is trying to leave.

She raises her eyebrows at him impatiently.

"I'm glad at least … to see that you're doing well. That you're rising to the potential that I always knew you had. You've always been a remarkable young woman."

The comment is so paternal, so proud, that it sounds like he is taking some ownership of her and her success. She doesn't want to be tainted with his pride or opinions of her. She hates him for saying it, but hates herself more for the ghost of a girl she hasn't quite left behind, the girl who used to shine under his praise and guidance and still craves it to this day.

Her hand isn't quite yet on the doorknob when she pauses. "I hope it doesn't work," she says, surprising herself with the malice in her voice. "I hope you die, and I hope it takes a very long time."

She walks almost aimlessly back to MJ's dorm. It starts to rain but she hardly notices, glancing up at the sky in brief acknowledgement when the first few drops fall and then ducking her head down and walking through the summer storm.

She knocks on MJ's door absent-mindedly. MJ answers and looks confused to see Gwen in the doorway—the two of them rarely bother to knock.

"You're soaked, let me get you some clothes," says MJ, opening some drawers and tossing an old t-shirt and jeans in Gwen's general direction. Gwen catches them and takes a few steps forward, shutting the door behind her. MJ looks up and Gwen's face feels too heavy to smile back at her.

"Are you okay?" asks MJ, frowning at her.

"I—" Gwen considers lying and saying yes, but too much time has passed now. "No."

"Hey," says MJ gently, "what happened?"

She shrugs a little helplessly. "It's been a bad week," she says.

Usually Gwen isn't much for hugging, but when MJ outstretches her arms and says, "Come here," Gwen accepts the gesture greedily, taking back every ill thought she has ever had toward her friend. Her mother is angry and Peter is gone and right now it feels like MJ is the only person in the universe on her side. She lets her head droop onto MJ's shoulder, with a kind of neediness she can't remember ever feeling, the kind that prompts MJ to ask, "Gwen, what's wrong?"

Gwen bites her lip. "Do you ever just … wonder if you're a bad person?"

She knows the question is absurd, but after her encounter with Connors she feels rotten to her core. She is hateful, she is cruel, she is no better than he is. It scares her to know herself this way, in ways she couldn't imagine.

"What are you talking about?" says MJ, separating from Gwen and looking her in the eye. When Gwen doesn't answer, just stands there in the doorway without any words left, MJ says, "I don't know what's going on with you, Gwen, but you're not a bad person. I can promise you that."

Gwen swipes the back of her palm at her eyes and takes a breath. "Thanks, MJ," she says. Even though her friend has no idea what Gwen is truly capable of, it feels nice to know that she still has somebody in her corner.

MJ asks if Gwen wants her to microwave some hot water for tea, or to find a movie to watch, but as Gwen wedges her wet legs into MJ's old pants she says, "Let's just … do homework," because she can't think of anything more soothing or monotonous than that.

"Ugh, I wish," says MJ, gesturing over to her computer. "I've been trying to finish this discussion board post for like a week, but I can't finish it until my partner posts his section, too."

Gwen peers at MJ's laptop, eager for the distraction. "Yeah? You tried calling him?"

"Over and over," MJ laments. "Texted, called, emailed. No answer. It's like the guy was wiped off the face of the earth."

"Wouldn't you see him in class?"

MJ shakes her head. "He keeps skipping. No surprises there," she says, rolling her eyes. Then she perks up a bit, drawing in a breath as if she has just realized something. "I forgot—you know Peter Parker, you guys are friends, aren't you?"

"Yeah," says Gwen, wishing she didn't blush just at the sound of his name. "I guess, why?"

"Well, he's my partner," says MJ.

Gwen's head snaps up. "How long have you been trying to reach him?" she asks, hoping she doesn't sound as panicked as she suddenly feels.

Her nose scrunches. "It's been, like, three days."

Gwen does the calculation in her head. The first day was the day of all the commotion, the day he was shot, but the next two days, she doesn't have the faintest idea of where he has been. She thought he was blowing her off intentionally, but now that she thinks about it, that is really unlike Peter.

"Could you try calling him or something? Maybe he'll pick up if it's you."

"Sure," says Gwen. Her phone feels slippery in her palm. "I'll try."

Friends, I'm going to be honest here. I'm updating this in the middle of an enormous lecture hall full of freshmen. Let this serve as two lessons: number one, never ever delay taking your easy level coursework until senior year, because there are babies everywhere, and number two, there comes a point in your life where you should maybe be concerned about the shits you're not giving, and that point is probably most likely when you're updating your Spiderman fanfiction in full view of 400 people behind you.

I'm getting my wisdom teeth removed tomorrow. Fair warning, since I'm about ten chapters ahead of what I'm posting, so in about ten chapters, when you catch up to me, the plot might take a significant twist into a unicorn-infested beautiful rainbow Vicodin-induced haze. In case you want a preview, sources tell me that a My Little Pony x Spiderman crossover actually exists somewhere on this site. I will be going to it now. In class. Like a responsible adult.

Stay in school, kids. Stay in school.