The next morning, at the Manhattan Police Department.
"Good morning!"
Walking into the precinct, Lynn greeted everyone as usual, grabbed the cup of coffee Jennifer handed him, and headed toward his office.
When he arrived, George Stacy was already there, sitting at his desk with a troubled look on his face, lost in thought.
"Hey, George, what's with the long face?"
Hanging his trench coat on the rack, Lynn sat down and grinned. "Don't tell me Helen kicked you out of bed again last night?"
"If it's really not working out, just call it quits. You're not getting any younger, and Gwen's almost eighteen. Maybe it's time to just—"
"Lynn, shut up."
George cut him off with an exasperated sigh, lighting a cigarette as a cloud of smoke drifted up.
Seeing him so distressed, Lynn took a cigarette from the same pack, lit it, and leaned back in his chair. "Alright, don't look so miserable. Tell me what's got you down. We're partners, right? Maybe I can help."
George exhaled a long sigh, rubbing his forehead. "Lynn, what would you do if… well, if you thought someone was doing something wrong—but everyone else thought that person was doing the right thing?"
"And what if what that person is doing clearly goes against your principles—but she's also the one closest to you?"
"Lynn, if it were you, what would you choose?"
Hearing that, Lynn shrugged. "If you think what she's doing is wrong, then maybe you're right… but it's also possible you're just biased against it."
"But if everyone else thinks she's right, doesn't that suggest maybe your so-called principles are the problem?"
"It's not like you're Bruno supporting Copernicus, getting burned at the stake for disagreeing with the crowd."
"As for your principles—"
Leaning back in his chair, Lynn raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever considered that maybe the principles you cling to aren't perfect either?"
George frowned. "How can principles be wrong?"
"Exactly my point!"
Seeing George's expression ease slightly, Lynn snapped his fingers with a grin. "It's like how you're always saying I slack off at work."
"That's not a principle—that's laziness!"
Before Lynn could finish, George cut in, shaking his head. "Don't use yourself as an example. If you put half the effort into your job that you put into flirting with women, you'd be running the entire department by now instead of just being a detective."
Seeing George Stacy's disappointed look, Lynn just shrugged. "Why work so hard, George? Life's meant to be enjoyed."
"Take what we were just talking about—the Twin Towers. Remember how hard those firefighters worked back then? But in the end, it all came down to the decisions of the people at the top—"
Lynn suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his expression freezing.
"What's wrong?"
When Lynn didn't respond, George frowned. "Go on. And why are you staring at me like that? Do I have something on my face?"
He reached up, touching his cheek without thinking.
"Principles," Lynn muttered. "You think someone's in the wrong, but everyone else thinks they're right… and the only person who fits that description right now would be New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman."
Then, with mock surprise, Lynn widened his eyes. "Wait a second—George, don't tell me you actually know Spider-Woman's real identity?"
"And this person close to you… could it be your wife, Helen?"
George's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't expected Lynn to be that sharp, piecing everything together from just a few vague words.
But when he heard Lynn's final guess, he let out a silent sigh of relief.
His wife, Spider-Woman? If only.
Well, that was the funniest joke George had heard all year.
"It seems Gwen might not be heading to California for college after all," Lynn said with a grin. "Should I call up one of my friends at New York State University?"
George, who had just managed to relax, froze again.
That bastard Lynn had clearly figured it out—that Gwen was Spider-Woman—and was now teasing him on purpose.
He shot Lynn the middle finger with a sigh. "I'm trying to figure out what to do next."
"Honestly, I'd rather she live a normal life. Being Spider-Woman is just too dangerous."
Before Lynn could reply, George's phone started ringing.
He answered, and a calm, professional voice came through the line. "Mr. George Stacy, this is Agent Natasha Romanoff from S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm sorry to have to call you with such news."
"The brave Lynn Hall sacrificed his life last night during a joint S.H.I.E.L.D. operation to protect the citizens of New York City."
"After the explosion, there wasn't even a body left behind."
"I know this must be difficult to hear, and I truly apologize… but Captain Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and the other Avengers have decided to hold a funeral for Lynn."
Her tone softened. "Lynn had no family left in this world. As his partner—and his friend—I hope you can attend his funeral."
"Steve and I both believe you're the most fitting person to deliver his eulogy… as someone who truly knew him."
Hearing Natasha's somber tone, George Stacy sat there in complete shock.
He looked up at Lynn—who was sitting across from him, sipping coffee and stealing his cigarettes—and then down at the phone in disbelief.
For a moment, he wondered if he was still half-asleep.
"Ms. Romanoff," he said slowly, "are you sure you're talking about Lynn Hall? My lazy partner—the one who spends his time chasing beautiful women and booking hotel rooms?"
"Of course, Mr. Stacy," Natasha replied earnestly. "I know it's hard to accept, but I'm sorry—it's true."
"Alright, I understand your invitation, Agent Romanoff," George said evenly. "But if the Lynn Hall you're talking about is dead, then who exactly is this man sitting in front of me, smoking my cigarettes?"
"Huh?"
On the other end of the line, Natasha—who had been weighed down by grief moments ago—froze.
Then her voice rose sharply, filled with surprise and urgency. "You're saying Lynn is alive? And he's sitting right in front of you?"
_______
(づ￣ 3￣)づ
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