Deadpool Syndrome - A Marvel Fanfic

Chapter 7 - Uptown Funk You Up

***GWEN***

Upon reaching the apartment where I apparently lived before - the doorman recognizes me, and asks me where I’ve been - the first thing I want to do is make cocoa. I can’t really explain it - it’s just a very powerful urge.

“Maybe you should look in your room or something?” Tadashi asks. “It’s all right, Gwen. I’ll keep an eye on the kettle for you.”

“It’s never gonna boil if you do that, you know,” Clint chuckles.

I sigh heavily, then move on down the hall. I can’t even remember which of the closed doors leads to my room, other than the fact that my room is somewhere on the left-hand side.

“Any particular reason why you wanna make cocoa?” Skye asks as she follows me down the hall.

I try one door, but reject that room because the decorations are so obviously those of my brother Howard. So many video game posters - and they’re exactly the same ones he has in San Castiel, eerily enough.

“Maybe you’ve got an alien parasite that thrives on cocoa?” Skye asks. She slaps the back of my head, hard.

“Ouch!”

“Dammit, it’s not the tick.” Skye laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, but I’ve been waitin’ for a long time to do that reference.”

“You do movie references too?” I groan. “No wonder you’re so attracted to Peter. Birds of a feather flock together.”

“I’m not attracted to Peter,” Skye says. “That’s just a character. Although I do like him and all the amazing Spider-Man stuff he’s done.” She chuckles at her own joke, spoiling another otherwise casual reference. “Believe me, you don’t gotta worry about me tryin’ to horn in on your territory.”

“Peter’s not my ‘territory,’” I say. “I don’t own him.” I try another door - this one ends up being a linen closet. The third door finally leads me to my room. Just like Howard’s room, mine is nearly identical in appearance to the one I know on the West Coast. The layout is different, of course, but just about every detail is something I have in my room in San Castiel.

“Of course not,” Skye says, hanging out in the doorway. She lapses into awkward silence for a few seconds before finally asking, “So, are you remembering anything?”

“No,” I say. “And you’re not helping me concentrate here.”

“Oh, sorry.” Skye twiddles her thumbs as she leans against the doorjamb. “Should I leave? I’m, uh, kinda supposed to keep an eye on you. In case you get any memories back with, uh, catastrophic effects.”

I glower at Skye. “If the sheer force of my recovered memories gives me a brain aneurysm, I’ll be sure to scream for help.”

“Oh, trust me, if you’re gonna get a brain aneurysm, you want someone close by to help you out,” Skye says. “Like, within touching distance.”

I turn away from Skye and look out the window for a few seconds, familiarizing myself with the skyline view. “You’ll probably be better off stayin’ out of my personal space.”

“By that, do you mean your own private bubble, or this whole room?” Skye asks, spreading her arms.

I sit in a blue armchair by the window, my head in my hands. I think about something I saw on the drive from the airport - a piece of graffiti on the side of the road bearing the familiar Spider-Man logo. They had that in the movies, and I guess in this alternate world where Spider-Man was real, they had it too.

But it wasn’t the Spider-Man symbol that I really noticed. It was what was next to the symbol - a simple, if grammatically messed-up, sentence written in blue spray paint. It said, “COME BACK SPIDEY WE NEED YOU.”