This story was written for another anthology here on Wattpad called "WHAT IF," by BatPrinceCo. The wording there has been tweaked, so this here is the original, with a couple of grammatical touch-ups of my doing.

Both Peter Parker and Mary Jane wore sullen expressions as the door leading from the lobby to the office opened, revealing an average-looking woman with brown hair tied back into a ponytail. She gave the two of them a soft smile.

"Mr. Parker? Miss Watson? Doctor Dinns will see you now."

"Alright," the boy sighed as he stood up from the lobby chair where he'd sat, flicking away the brown hair that had hung into his eyes and briefly adjusting his blazer. He didn't smile. If anything, his expression seemed to darken as he neared the room where he would meet the therapist that he'd scheduled an appointment. The girl followed after, an annoyed expression on her face. Her red hair swayed slightly as she followed the boy into the office.

As they entered, they observed the small room. It looked less like an actual office, and more like a casual living room. A large couch sat against the left wall, while a comfortable-looking armed chair sat opposite of it. Between the two sat a glass-topped coffee table with a small vase of flowers in the center.

In the armed chair sat a tall, thin man with wrinkled, dark skin reminiscent of that of a raisin. His head bore silver hair around the edges and around his face, but none to boast of on the top of the head. His dark eyes were warm and welcoming, and a small smile formed on his lips.

"Have a seat, Mr. Parker, Miss Watson. Please make yourselves comfortable."

They both nodded silently, each sitting at opposite ends of the couch as though trying to distance themselves from each other as much as possible. Neither of them returned the man's smile.

"Now then," he said with a very slight rasp in his throat. "Why don't you both tell me what the trouble is? Remember, I'm licensed to work with superheroes. Any trauma you may have is more than welcome to be brought up. Don't think you need to hide your secret identity and whatnot," he said, glancing at Peter. "And remember, nothing said in here is allowed to leave this room. This is a private matter, whatever your issue may be. And finally, remember this: I am here to help you, not to harm you. Any questions I ask are with the intention of helping the both of you. Are you both ready to begin?"

There were several moments of silence. What followed was like an explosion. Both Peter and Mary Jane began talking at once, beginning to shout as they both attempted to overpower the other's voice. The shouting continued for several seconds before the elderly man raised his hands, calling for their attention. They both quickly fell silent, though they both shot each other menacing glares. The older man seemed to note these glares, but continued to smile warmly.

"We'll do this one at a time," he said before gesturing to Mary Jane. "Why don't you tell your side of the story first? Mr. Parker, we'll get to you next."

The red-headed girl nodded before speaking. "Well, it's this relationship. Peter is always throwing himself into reckless situations, and he's so busy 'saving the city' and all that I barely get him to myself anymore! Not to mention the fact that he's always talking about Gwen! I swear, sometimes it's almost like she's the only girl that ever existed to him, and she's dead!"

Mr. Dinns winced at that last statement. However, all he said was, "I see. And Mr. Parker?"

"Well," the boy said, "I'd agree with Mary Jane. It's the relationship. I mean, look! Crime doesn't exactly take a day off! I've got duties to fulfill, and protecting the city is extremely important! And come on, how am I supposed to not talk about Gwen? She died, and I couldn't save her! That stays with a person. So I'm sorry if being a hero is a bit traumatic, Mary Jane. I don't see you defending the city day and night!"

"Trying to make this relationship work seems to be causing a great deal of issues," the old man stated as he looked at the both of them. "Why don't you just break it off?"

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Peter and Mary Jane refused to meet each other's gaze.

"I see," the man commented once more. "Your silence speaks volumes. The conclusion I've come thus far is that both of you still very much love each other. However, the situation has placed a wedge between each other. Of course, I'm not going to recommend that Peter quit being Spider-Man. What I do think is that the both of you are not fully appreciating the other." His gaze suddenly became stern. "You're both so caught up thinking about yourself and your own problems and complaints that you take the other for granted."

"So how do we fix that?" Mary Jane asked.

The man smiled once more, but this was different. It was a cold, almost insane smile. He slowly stood up, reaching behind his back and pulled out two large blades.

"That's simple," he said, his smile unfaltering. "You die."

He lunged with the agility of a man thirty years younger, slicing both blades toward the girl. They would have cleaved through her skin if not for the webs that suddenly entangled them and the man's hands and pinned them to the far wall. Peter had stood up, and fired said webs from the launchers tucked just underneath the sleeves of his blazer.

The man chuckled, twisting the knives and slicing off the webs with apparent ease. He ran at Peter this time, ready to slice the boy open. This time, Mary Jane threw herself into Peter, knocking them both out of the way of the man's path. As they scrambled to their feet, the man continued his attack, but was halted as a pair of thick webs stuck his feet to the floor. He bent down to slice them off, but another barrage of webs stuck his arms to his sides, preventing them from moving as usual.

Once more, the man simply smiled. Using his fingers, he moved the knives to slice off little bits of the webbing. As he freed more and more of his body, his knives made larger movements, freeing his body more and more rapidly until the webs had been torn to tatters.

Peter's eyes went wide. Normal weapons would never be able to slice his webs like that. This man was not a therapist at all. He was insane.

"I've worked with many, many superheroes in my time as a therapist," he said, his smile growing. "Do you want to know how many of them I've killed? You're the first big-name hero I've encountered in my time here. Most of your lot are too stubborn for therapy anyhow. This entire clinic is run by people like me. People who want nothing more than to shed the blood of heroes like you."

A chill ran down Peter's spine. This was a villain, and a dangerous one at that. His webs had been rendered useless by the blades. If they sliced through his webs, then his skin and bone would be just as easy.

Realizing he was about to die at the hands of this foe, he blurted out an apology.

"Mary Jane," he said, his eyes wide with terror, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I've only been thinking about myself. I haven't made enough time for you. And now that's going to get us both killed."

"I'm sorry too," she said. "You're a great hero, and it's selfish of me to think I'll always have you when I want you. I know you're always busy. I know you have a duty. And I'm sorry. I don't give you enough credit for what you do."

As the two of them both apologized, the old man stopped. His insane smile returned to its previous warmth, and he sat back down in his chair, his eyes gentle. "There," he said calmly. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"