Chapter 34: George: If Lynn Is Dead, Who Am I Looking At?
The next morning. Manhattan Police Precinct.
"Mornin'."
Lynn strolled into the precinct, offered a general greeting to the room, and seamlessly plucked his customary coffee from Jennifer's hand as he passed, continuing on toward his office.
When he got to the office, George Stacy was already there, slumped at his desk with a heavy, troubled look on his face, lost in thought.
"Hey, George. What's with the doom-and-gloom look?"
Lynn hung his trench coat on the rack and settled into his chair. "What's the matter? Helen kick you out of the bed again last night?"
"If you ask me, just give up. You're getting on in years, and Gwen's almost eighteen. Just move into separate rooms already…"
Before Lynn could even finish, George cut him off, looking exasperated. "For fuck's sake, just shut up, will you?"
George pulled a cigarette from the pack on his desk and lit it, his expression still clouded over.
Seeing how deep in it George was, Lynn leaned over, helped himself to one of George's cigarettes, and lit it. "Alright, stop looking like your world's ending."
"Spill it. We're partners, right? Let's see if I can help."
"Sigh."
George let out a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Lynn, what if… just hypothetically… what if you think someone is doing something wrong, but absolutely everyone else thinks what they're doing is right?"
"And what they're doing... it goes against every principle you have. But the person doing it... is someone you're closer to than anyone."
"Lynn, if that were you, what would you do?"
Lynn shrugged. "If you think she's wrong, maybe you're right. Or maybe you're just biased."
"But if everyone else thinks she's right, doesn't that just mean your precious principles are the things that are wrong?"
"It's pretty simple. It's not like you're Giordano Bruno, about to get burned at the stake for disagreeing with the church."
"As for your 'principles'..."
Lynn leaned back in his chair. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe your principles are the problem?"
"How can principles be the problem?"
"My point exactly."
Seeing George's expression ease up a fraction, Lynn snapped his fingers. "It's like you, always thinking I'm slacking off on the job."
"That's because you are lazy!"
George cut him off again, exasperated. "Don't use yourself as an example. If you put half the energy you spend chasing women into your career, you'd be running this whole division by now."
Lynn just shrugged at George's 'you're-a-lost-cause' expression. "It's life. Why work so hard? Enjoying it is the whole point."
"Anyway, back to my point. Look at the Twin Towers. How hard did those firefighters work? And what happened? It was all because of what the guys at the top did…"
He stopped mid-sentence, freezing.
"What is it?"
When Lynn didn't answer, George pressed on. "Keep going. And why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?"
George self-consciously rubbed his cheek.
"Principles... something you think is wrong, but everyone else thinks is right. The only person who fits that description is New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman."
Lynn put on a mask of mock surprise. "Oh my god, George. Don't tell me you found out who Spider-Woman really is."
"And it's someone close to you? Wait... is it Helen? Is your wife Spider-Woman?"
George's heart leaped into his throat. He was about to lunge over and shut Lynn up.
He couldn't believe Lynn's mind was that sharp—that he'd figured out the truth from just a few vague comments.
Thank god. Lynn's last guess let him breathe again.
'His wife? Spider-Woman?'
'Okay, that was the funniest goddamn joke he'd heard all year.'
"So, I guess Gwen probably isn't going to college in California, then. Want me to call in a favor with my old alumni buddies at NYU?"
George, who had just relaxed, was instantly speechless.
He saw it now. This son of a bitch knew. He knew Gwen was Spider-Woman, and he was just messing with him.
He gave Lynn the finger, then sighed, the fight going out of him. "I'm just... trying to figure out what to do now."
"Honestly, I just want her to have a normal life. This Spider-Woman thing... it's just too dangerous."
Just as he said it, his phone rang.
He picked it up, and a woman's voice introduced herself. "Mr. George Stacy? This is Agent Natasha Romanoff, with SHIELD. I'm very sorry to be making this call."
"Last night, in a joint operation with SHIELD to protect this city, Detective Lynn Hall was... he was killed in action."
"There was an explosion. We... we couldn't recover a body."
"I know this is difficult to process, and I am so sorry. But Captain Rogers, Tony Stark, and the rest of the Avengers... we've decided to hold a funeral for him."
Her voice dropped. "Lynn didn't have any family left. As his partner... his friend... we were hoping you would be there."
"Steve and I... we both feel you're the most fitting person to speak for him. To give the eulogy."
George listened to the low, somber, grief-stricken voice on the other end of the line.
He went completely numb.
He slowly raised his head to look at the man sitting directly across from him—the man who was currently sipping coffee and bumming another one of his cigarettes.
He listened again to the voice on the phone.
For a long, surreal moment, George Stacy was convinced he was still asleep.
"Ms. Romanoff... are you absolutely certain you're talking about Lynn Hall? My lazy, hotel-hopping, pain-in-the-ass partner?"
"Yes, Mr. Stacy."
Natasha affirmed. "I know it's a shock, but... I'm sorry, it's the truth."
"Okay. Well, I appreciate the invitation, Ms. Romanoff. But if the Lynn Hall you're talking about is dead... then who the hell is sitting across from me, drinking my coffee and smoking my cigarettes?"
"...What?"
On the other end of the line, Natasha, who had been lost in her grief, was struck completely silent.
When she finally processed his words, her voice was urgent, breathless, and laced with disbelief. "You're saying... Lynn is alive? He's sitting right there, in front of you?"
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