Chapter Two

"I heard career day went pretty smoothly," May said as Temperance hung her purse on the back of a bar stool and hopped up to sit next to her.

"It was something," Temp replied before signalling the bartender and ordering a drink.

"Well, thanks again for agreeing to do it. I know it meant a lot to Peter."

"Of course," Temp said, taking a swig of the drink that was placed in front of her, "any luck on your interview?"

"They offered me the position," May said, "but I think I'm gonna turn it down. I don't want to just take the first thing that comes around. Life's too short to waste time doing something you don't really love, you know?"

Temperance wished she could see the world the way May Parker did sometimes. She nodded, taking another drink, "Well, if anything falls through, you'll still have a job waiting for you at Stark Industries if you want it," she reminded her friend.

"I appreciate it, Temperance," May replied. She always called Temp by her full name, "but I don't think the corporate world is quite for me."

Temperance nodded thoughtfully - she couldn't argue with that.

"Is it for you?" May asked, giving her a meddling look over the rim of her glass.

"Obviously," Temp said, "it's practically the only thing I'm good at."

"Just because you're good at something doesn't mean you have to do it," May told her, "And just because you're not good at something else doesn't mean that you can't choose to do it anyway."

Temp gave her a pointed look, "if you have something you'd like to say, you should just say it."

"I'm not saying anything," May insisted, "I'm just saying -"

Temperance groaned.

"I'm just saying that you don't seem very happy," May continued.

"I'm happy," Temp said, but she could hear how defensive she sounded as it came out of her mouth, "I mean...it's unrealistic to be happy all the time."

"I know that," said May, "but are you who you want to be? Are you doing what you want to be doing? Because those things matter."

"I don't know what I want to be doing, May."

"You'll find out," May said easily, "You're a smart girl."

"Well, I don't think that'll be any time soon," Temp replied, "All I can think about right now is how it's open season everywhere I go," she muttered.

"That bad?" May asked, her tone sympathetic.

"The more I try to suppress it, the more people's cords press into my awareness," she said, running a weary hand through her hair. She eyed the rowdy group of people at the table nearest them. Drunk people's cords practically wrapped themselves around her.

"Maybe you shouldn't try to suppress it so hard," May said softly, "I'm not saying to use it, but...you know, maybe acknowledge the cords when you sense them, and let it pass."

"I keep trying to, but I can't help it. Every time I sense one, I just feel so guilty about what happened…" her voice caught in her throat.

"In Siberia," May finished for her. Temperance nodded, taking a swig of her drink to force down the lump in her throat.

"So I just...bear down," she said, shifting to look May in the eye, "What I want is to never lose control like that again. And if that means I have to live the rest of my life doing paperwork, then fine."

"I understand," May told her with kind eyes, "I just think that maybe there are better ways to maintain that control that don't involve as much suffering. Have you considered therapy? Maybe it would help to talk it through with somebody."

"Maybe," Temp agreed, trying not to sound too dismissive of the idea, "I kind of doubt anyone has personal experience with this kind of thing."

"A lot of therapists don't have personal experience with a lot of things, but they still manage," May said with a shrug.

"I guess so."

"Just consider it. I'll give you the number of a friend that I'd recommend - she's really great - and you can decide if you want to use it or not."

Temperance nodded, appreciating the unobtrusive offer, "I'll think about it."

"Great!" May said brightly, clapping her hands together, "now, speaking of people I want to introduce you to…"

"No," Temp said, recognizing the look in May's eye, "Not another one of your setups."

"This one is really good, I'm telling you," May insisted, "it's meant to be."

"Well, if it's meant to be, I guess you don't need to introduce us," Temperance said.

"Just let me tell you a little bit about him, and then you can decide," May bargained, "His name is Greg, and I met him-"

"Greg?" Temp interrupted, trying not to laugh, "No. No Gregs."

Temperance, feeling a little bit tipsy and very emotionally taxed, decided that a walk might do her good, and chose to walk back to her apartment after she was finished with May. A combination of the alcohol and the residual angst from the conversation with May had left her disoriented and anxious. She hadn't made it three blocks before she began to regret the decision to walk. As her panic rose, she pushed it down and continued to walk, making her second bad decision of the night and choosing to cut through Times Square. Hands shoved into her jacket pockets, she walked at a brisk New Yorker pace with her head down, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. Usually, she would circumvent Times Square and go the longer way around, because the tourist population of Manhattan didn't always know how to act when they recognized her.

As she weaved through the bustling night crowd, she tried to focus on her breathing and ignore the hundreds of cords swirling around her. She wished her jacket had a hood as she allowed her hair to fall down around the sides of her face. At first, she was thankful that nobody seemed to want to bother her. Then, in a moment of clarity, she realized that a path was being cleared as everyone stepped out of her way. She looked up to see that, not only had everyone stepped clear of her - they were all standing with their backs to her, motionless. The hair on the back of her neck rose, anticipating that something terrible was about to happen, but unsure how to interpret the phenomenon. The image of Loki and his staff sprung to her mind, even though she knew that the mind stone was now a part of Vision.

She whirled around, searching for any sign of danger. The crowd spun with her, performing the same action with an eerie lack of emotion. Temperance froze, her shoulders tensing and her breathing speeding up. In her eagerness to get through unseen, had she willed them to turn away? She could see it now - she had grabbed several cords. She tried to release, but it was like forcing your shoulders to relax, only to become suddenly too aware of your body and clam up even more. She brought her hands up to her head, pressing on both sides to try and calm herself. Everyone standing in Times Square did the same, and she screwed her eyes shut to avoid seeing them. She took a moment, trying to slow her breathing and praying that when she opened her eyes, everything would be back to normal.

But luck wasn't on her side, and when she lowered her hands and opened her eyes, everyone was still standing around her, staring, as non-emotive as before. She turned and tried to walk through the crowd, but the people, now latched onto her own will, all moved in the same direction, following her blindly.

"No," she pleaded, "No, stop! I want you to stop. I'm sorry."

She continued to push ahead of the crowd, murmuring pleas and apologies. It felt like the world was closing in around her - as if everyone in the universe had their eyes on her and were watching as she was folded into a tiny, steel box. She was losing her mind, surely. And it made her a danger to everyone. She fell to her knees, throwing her hands over her head and curling into a ball. It was a dream. It had to be. The silence around her was deafening.

Peter Parker's spidey sense was particularly unsettling as he swung toward Times Square. He'd been given permission to go out while his Aunt May was busy with Temperance, and the evening had been relatively quiet until the current uneasiness set in. Taxis were honking and people were shouting even more than usual as he neared the main stretch - everyone was frustrated that there was some kind of blockage in the flow of traffic. As he reached the square, however, things went eerily quiet. Below, a few hundred people were curled up on the street in a ball, hands drawn over their heads for protection.

"What the -" Peter murmured, swinging lower. He looked around, trying to ascertain what they were cowering from, but there was no discernible threat, as far as he could tell. He landed on the ground in between a few people and placed a gentle hand on one woman's shoulder, "What's going on? What's wrong?"

The woman didn't respond - didn't even move, "anybody?" He tried, turning in a circle to see if anyone was responding, "this is so creepy," he sing-songed with uncertainty. He shot a web at a nearby street light and pulled himself up on top of it to get a better view. The eyes of his mask narrowed as he spotted a clear spot in the middle of the crowd, where the people had left a perimeter around one cowering figure.

He recognized that jacket and the form inside of it.

"Temperance?" He murmured, anxiety rising in his chest as he swung down to her. He knelt down next to her, placing a hand on her back, "Temp?"

She shuddered deeply, a panicked sob escaping her chest. She wasn't stuck like the others. Peter pulled gently at her shoulders, trying to get her to sit up.

"Temp, you're okay. You're okay," he assured her, brushing the hair back from her face to try and look at her, "Hey, it's alright. I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?" He sounded as uncertain as he felt, and he was painfully aware of it. He coaxed her to her feet, and she nodded compliantly. Peter guided her to hold onto him and swept her away as quickly as possible. He didn't know what would happen to the people after they left, but he figured taking Temperance away would help, since she seemed to be causing it.

Temperance ran for the toilet bowl and retched the contents of her stomach the moment they entered her apartment. Peter, who'd pulled off his Spider-Man mask, stood behind her and grabbed her hair, gathering it away from her face until she waved his concern away.

"I'm okay," she said, clearing her throat from the burning discomfort and breathing heavily, "I'm fine."

"You sure?" He asked, "Why don't I get you some water? I'll get you some water."

Peter ran off to the kitchen and Temperance heard the sound of the cupboards opening and closing. She sat back on her heels and exhaled deeply, ripping a few sheets of toilet paper off the roll and wiping her mouth. She climbed shakily to her feet and walked into the living room. Peter met her there with a glass of water and handed it to her after she plopped down on the couch. He sat down on the coffee table, watching her take a few sips. It was quiet for a few minutes as he continued to let her catch her breath. Temperance felt terrible that he had been forced to take care of her in that state. He looked younger than ever right now, his face worried and uncertain.

"Thank you, Peter," She said finally, "you should get home to May before she worries."

"She'll understand," He assured her, "We should - I mean- shouldn't we talk about...what happened?"

Temperance took another gulp of the water and nodded, "I'm not really sure. I think I had some kind of panic attack. It made me...lose control for a minute."

The words lose control tasted more like bile than the actual bile in her mouth. Peter nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, it was a little weird, but ultimately harmless. You know?" He tried to assure her.

"Yeah," Temperance agreed weakly, her voice rasping. Her throat still felt like sandpaper. She took another drink.

"Maybe we should go back to my house? Or Mr. Stark's?" Peter suggested softly.

"No, um," Temperance said, clearing her throat, "I think I'm alright now," the panic had passed and all she really wanted to do now was cry bitter tears, but she didn't want to freak Peter out any more than he already was. It was quiet for another long minute while Peter tried to think of something else to say, wringing his mask between his hands.

"Remember that time I accidentally sliced a ferry in half?" He said, earning a small, appreciative smile from Temperance. She knew that he hated talking about that, "that was way worse than this."

Before Temperance could respond, a holographic image of Tony's face projected from the coffee table next to Peter.

"Incoming call from Mr. Stark," Penny announced.

"Put him through," Temperance said with a sigh.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter greeted when the video of Tony appeared in the projection.

"Temp, you okay?" Tony asked, forgoing greetings. His serious and straightforward tone indicated that he definitely knew.

"How do you know already?" Temperance asked.

"You're breaking news," said Tony. Temperance closed her eyes, letting her head fall against the back of the couch, and Peter gave her a sympathetic look, "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, "I don't know what happened, Tony. I was -"

"We're gonna figure it out." Tony interrupted, assuring her that she didn't need to explain herself, "I know that thing of yours is tricky."

Temp nodded, quiet for a moment, "what do you think Secretary Ross is gonna do?"

"Let me handle him," Tony said, "I'm sure he'll be calling me soon."

"I'm sorry, Tony."

"Hey," Tony said firmly, "Don't. It's not your fault."

Temperance chewed on her lip, looking away.

"Why don't you get some rest, and then we can debrief in the morning?" Tony suggested, "Breakfast at that corner cafe you like? 9 o'clock?"

"I'll be there," Temperance said.

"I would totally go, but I have school…" Peter chimed in, earning a pointed look from Tony that screamed I wasn't talking to you.

His face softened after a moment, "Good looking out tonight, kid."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter said, perking up at the validation.

Tony said his goodbyes, and the moment the call ended, Temperance reached for the remote, turning on the tv.

"Woah, hey," Peter said, scooting over on the table so he was blocking her view, "Are you sure you want to do that? You could just go to bed, like Mr. Stark said."

"Move, Peter," She said, flipping to a news station. He did as he was told, moving to sit next to her on the couch.

"Oh, God," Temperance groaned, looking at the breaking news footage on the screen. They were playing a shot of her after Peter had pulled her to her feet, with everyone still kneeling around her.

"As you can see from this footage, The Siren appears to be ordering the crowd to bow to her," the voice of J. Jonah Jameson commented as the footage played. Temp's head fell into her hands.

"Seriously?" Peter said in disbelief, "Come on, Temperance, this guy's a jerk - nobody listens to him. You'll see."

"Thanks, Peter," Temperance said, "I'm crashing. I think I'm ready to go to bed now."

Peter, aware that he was being dismissed, nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Call me and May if you need anything, okay? I mean it."

"I will."

The next morning, Temperance wore sunglasses and a hooded jacket on the walk to meet Tony at her favorite corner cafe. Pulling off her sunglasses but opting to leave the hood up, she settled into the seat across from Tony and took a timid sip of her hot coffee.

"Can I have your autograph?" He asked, earning a baleful look.

"What's the news saying?" She asked, jumping straight to the point, "I had to stop watching."

"Good," Tony said, "Because it doesn't matter. The solution is to lay low, and you're already doing that. Listening to what the news has to say about you isn't going to help you regroup."

"What about...Spider-Man?" She asked, lowering her voice and remembering not to use Peter's name in public, "Have they said anything about him?"

"Just that he swooped in and saved the day," Tony replied, ripping off and eating a bite of his croissant. Then, he added quietly, "It didn't look like he knew you, if that's what you're worried about."

It was. Temperance had lost sleep the night before when she remembered that she wasn't supposed to be seen with Spider-Man in any capacity that might make it easier for the public to connect his identity to Peter Parker, who she was often seen with in public. She was relieved that nobody seemed to care about that aspect.

"And what did Ross say?"

"The reader's digest version is that he's agreed to do nothing, as long as you are taking appropriate measures to not escalate. I think our cooperation with the accords left him predisposed to believe us when I said that it was an accident. That, and you don't look particularly malevolent in the footage." Tony explained. Temperance thought of the image of herself cowering on the ground and wanted to crawl under the table.

"So, that's it?"

"That's it," Tony agreed, "Except, you know, if you have ideas about what those measures might look like."

Temp nodded, taking a sip of her coffee and clearing her throat, "I think I'm gonna try therapy."

Tony considered the idea, "yeah? Think it'll help?"

"May does," Temperance said, "And I don't have any better ideas, so...figured it was worth a shot."

Tony nodded, "Therapy it is, then. You can put it on the company tab."

"That goes without saying."

When her meeting with Tony was over, Temperance managed to walk back to her apartment building without anyone taking notice of her, mostly because she was back in her 'disguise' and busy on the phone, assuring May that she was okay. They had talked about her making an appointment with the therapist and about having a night in soon where they could watch movies and eat takeout, no alcohol involved.

Temperance was just hanging up with May as she reached her apartment door and scanned her finger to enter through the fancy security system Tony installed. She walked inside, pulling off her sunglasses and jacket and throwing her keys into the bowl on the foyer table.

"Welcome, Temperance," Penny greeted her. Before Temp could open her mouth to respond, Penny continued, "I have identified an unknown presence in the apartment. Please proceed cautiously."

Temp straightened, slowly turning to walk closer against the wall of the hallway. This had never happened before, except for when Tony and Pepper let themselves in, and Penny would be able to identify them. Peter? She wasn't sure if he had special access to the front door, but Penny would at least recognize Peter. She heard a small thud coming from the direction of the living room. Somebody had entered her apartment, and they hadn't come through the door.