A/N: This tale may seem slow getting started, but I've planned it as novel length. I promise you you'll get to read plenty of action in upcoming chapters, so hang in there, and as Stan Lee used to say, don't let your web get tangled!

Cheers!

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Chapter Three: Rellies.

In which Peter Parker meets a long lost relative, but exactly how is she related?

Peter Parker was in front of the computer at a spare desk at the Daily Bugle trying to appear busy. Jameson had been mildly astonished at the almost regular hours that he'd been putting in the last couple of days, but unfortunately those regular hours were not producing the photos that Jameson wanted.

In an ironic twist, Peter Parker was in danger of losing his job. No more Spider-Man, no more Spider-Man pics, no job. Peter pulled a face. Jameson of course had had a field day when the news came in that Spider-Man was no more. The headlines in the Daily Bugle the day before had screamed "Big Apple Bites Spider-Man!". Thankfully, there were no details of how Spider-Man had met his end - only that he was no more. And one thing was true; he hadn't been seen since.

Meanwhile, Peter was still coming to terms with the sudden loss of his abilities. While he was thankful that no longer would he have to put Aunt May or the others that he loved at risk again, not to mention himself, he still felt guilty and was worried at the results to the city the news would have - all the villains who would feel they now had a free hand now Spider-Man wasn't there to stop them. Peter dreaded it in some ways, knowing he was impotent to do anything about it, but still knowing he couldn't fully quit the sense of responsibility.

Stupid. That was all that had been keeping him going as Spider-Man recently; he had long ago stopped enjoying this business, and the break up with Mary-Jane was the last straw. In some ways too, he was glad he'd lost his powers, maybe there would be a chance for them… He was still debating how he was going to tell Mary-Jane - in the meantime, he felt guilty he hadn't called her or answered any of her messages.

Peter looked up at his monitor - he was scanning the want ads. Luckily, one of the perks of working for a newspaper was first dibs on the classifieds.

'Breeeep'. Peter picked up his phone. "Mr Parker, there's someone to see you at reception," came the receptionist's voice. "Oh great" muttered Peter to himself, then louder, "Who is it? What do they want?"

"She didn't give a name. She said it was personal". Helen's tone was frosty - she didn't like time wasters - either visitors or staff. Peter sighed. It was probably one of the contacts he had so assiduously developed - he got a lot of tips off these people that were useful to him as Spider-Man. Usually though, they phoned, or left cryptic messages about when and where to meet.

"I'll be right out". He made sure of his wallet. Sometimes it was safer to take these 'tips' out of the building, out for a coffee. They usually preferred it that way too. He wondered what use he'd be able to put the information to now that he could no longer act on these things as Spider-Man - pass it on to one of the reporters, he supposed.

He went through the door and eyed the stranger sitting on one of the uncomfortable chairs in reception, reading yesterday's edition of the Bugle. Jameson believed that even visitors to the Bugle's offices should have to pay for the current day's edition.

The stranger looked up as he came through, and stood up, putting the paper down and her purse over her shoulder as Peter approached. He saw a mildly attractive woman about his age, with short dark hair and grey eyes. Peter noticed that her hands and face were tanned, almost as if she'd recently been on a long vacation somewhere, but he got the impression that she acquired it through an outdoorsy lifestyle. She had an intelligent look about her, as if too, despite the tan, she spent a lot of her time inside reading, was well-educated - he couldn't tell what gave him that impression. She had no make up on and was casually dressed in dishevelled looking old jeans and fleece jacket, and was wearing sensible red shoes on her feet. Peter thought she was rather over-dressed for the warm spring day that it was.

She looked a bit flushed as she met his eyes directly and spoke to him. "Peter Parker?" She held out her hand, "Hi, I'm Erica Stirling. I wondered if we could talk…" she said quietly.

She had an accent he couldn't place. English? Australian? She glanced warily at Helen as Peter shook hands with her. He guessed she had got the full icy blast from the receptionist. He turned his head and said over his shoulder "I'm out for a while - don't tell Jonah!" And then to Erica "Let's go for a coffee."

He pulled a face at Erica as they got into the elevator - he could imagine Helen's tight-lipped glare following them. "So, where are you from?" he asked, making small talk, as they went down, "I couldn't place your accent."

"I'm from New Zealand", she said.

"Hey, I've heard it's a very scenic country. Are you on vacation here?"

"No. Not really…" Peter was puzzled - she wasn't a 'tip' then, why did she want to see him? And she seemed sort of nervous and… something else he couldn't put a finger on. His spider-sense told him nothing. And then he remembered. He didn't have a spider-sense any more. Relying on it had become so automatic that he couldn't quite get to grips with it's loss.

"I have something to tell you…" she started saying, and then stopped. She looked at him, swallowed and started again. "Maybe when we're somewhere private sitting down."

"Uh, sure." They both were quiet, Peter realising she didn't want any small talk.. He led them to the coffee shop around the corner - it was busy enough that any conversation would be reasonably private.

"What do you want? A regular?"

Erica looked at him and then at the board. "Huh? A cup of tea?"

"Tea! Well O.K."

When they were seated at a table near the window, Erica took a couple of sips from her tea, "I don't know how to say this…" she began quietly, playing with the unused sugar sachet, "…but I think you're my cousin."

"My cousin!!" Peter was staggered. He knew he was an orphan, but he didn't think he had had any relatives left apart from his Uncle Ben and Aunt May, and Uncle Ben was no longer alive… "But how can you be? I'm an orphan!" he exclaimed not entirely logically.

Erica looked up at him, very flushed and red in the face. She started taking off her jacket, at the same time explaining, "Uh. On your mother's side. Her father's brother travelled around the place a lot. He ended up in New Zealand and settled down. He was my granddad. I never met him, he died when I was a baby. I never knew he was American. I never realised he had relatives in the States until I was going to come here. My Mum mentioned him, and said I should find out if there were any unknown rellies. It took me a while to find any! I found out my granddad had a brother who had a daughter who had a son…I can't understand why there's this great big gap on information about your parents. But I did find out that you went to live with your Dad's relatives. So I looked them up and managed to get hold of Mrs Parker on the phone. Your Aunt May. She was so excited! She told me where you worked…"

Peter was gob-smacked. A cousin! He had other family! Erica looked a bit less hot now she had off-loaded both her jacket and her story. "I hope it's not too much of a shock," she said gently, "It came as a surprise to me, and I'm sure this news doesn't mean the same to me as it does to you."

Peter stared at her, his coffee untouched. "I…I…Woo Hooo!" he suddenly yelled, "This is great! I have family!! I'm so excited too, no wonder Aunt May was!" Maybe things were starting to come right! Part of Peter really was excited - a long-lost relative! But part of him, his more cynical and wary side, the side that had been disappointed so often in the past, wondered why Erica was looking a little… nervous still, and sad too.. Peter dashed those thoughts away. He had so much lost time to make up for, so much to show her. Was she in New York for long? What were her plans for the afternoon?

"No plans. What did you have in mind?" she said warily.

"Sight-seeing? Nah, you've probably already seen the touristy places."

"Not all" replied Erica, "Though I'd rather see something a little more off-beat. You know, the 'hidden' New York. If there is such a thing."

"O.K. If you don't mind doing the nerd trail. That's pretty hidden. Though I think we'll skip some of the gems like the Troll Museum."

"Really? There's really a museum devoted to trolls?"

"Yup. And pianos. And bras."

"Biz-zare!"

"Let's start with the Skyscraper Museum then. It's not off-beat, but it's very New York."

"Sounds great!" said Erica, looking somehow relieved. It was a warm day out now, but now her jacket was off, Peter could see she had on a long woollen top. Erica caught him looking at her top and jacket and smiled. "It's colder in New Zealand at the moment - different season. I guess I didn't pack the right clothes." And she smiled again, as if at a private joke.

Later, after travelling through the city, having lunch and visiting places of interest, Peter was pleasantly surprised to find that they had some common ground. Erica really did like museums and libraries, how cool was that? His initial impression of her being well-educated proved to be correct. She said her favourite place had been the Patents division of the New York Public Library.

However he thought it strange when she evaded any personal questions he asked, and didn't ask any of her own. Peter thought she had seemed somehow reluctant to talk much, almost as if she were shy, but she laughed several times at Peter's jokes as he gave a commentary on the sights they were seeing.

"What are those sort of chimneys on the footpath?" she asked, pointing to one of the structures with an elaborately fashioned top that had steam wisping out of it.

"Vents from underground, to let out stale air and smoke from the subway - and the evil miasma that collects in subterranean lairs of egotistical madmen." Peter leered.

Peter also thought it was strange that Erica hadn't offered to pay for any of the costs; for lunch, entrance fees and subway rides. Not that he minded. It was his treat after all, but… perhaps the New Zealand culture was different in that way.

As if she had been reading his mind, Erica said to him "Hey, thanks for paying my way for me. I'm sorry I don't have any change in US dollars - you can have a Kiwi one if you want, though its only worth 50 cents." She reached into her purse and pulled out a wallet. Peter couldn't help noticing it was a very empty looking purse for a foreign visitor. Perhaps she was wise, and had left her important documents back at her hotel.

"Thanks for the investment!" he said as he looked at the coin. A dollar coin? It was getting on towards evening, and he was tired. All the walking and standing around he wasn't used to without his spider-powers to provide endurance. Erica had to be tired too. Her looked at her out the corner of his eye as they walked down the sidewalk, but she didn't look tired at all, just pre-occupied in her own thoughts. She reminded him of someone… himself at times. "Hey, er… you want to go back to your hotel and freshen up? I'll call on you later, take you out to dinner. My treat," he said with a smile.

Erica smiled back, but also looked a little alarmed. "Oh, um… I don't think I could get any fresher at my hotel." She said. Peter groaned inwardly - maybe she was staying at some cheap dive somewhere; budgeting and all that.

"Well," he said, "I'm beat. I need to do a bit of freshening up myself. My apartment's not too far away from here. Do you mind if…?" He hesitated a bit. Was it wise inviting her to his apartment? There was still something… not right about Erica. He supposed it was that she was from a different country, but he did still have a knack for sensing that something was not quite right that had nothing to do with any spider-sense, and a lot to do with the native wit he had been born with. He mentally shrugged. It wasn't as if he had anything to hide. Apart from his immediate past. And he was sure he could still handle himself if threatened…

"No. no, go ahead." said Erica.

"Hey, I meant you come too!" Peter replied, "I'm not trying to lose a relative when I've only just found her!"

Twenty minutes later, they were at Peter's apartment. It was near the top of a building devoted to photography - a large store that sold photographic supplies on the first floor and studios on the other floors. Peter was lucky to get the penthouse apartment; contacts in the photography profession had come in useful. Even though 'penthouse' sounded swanky, it was an old, totally un-swanky caretakers apartment, but the rent was cheap.

Exiting from a cranky elevator into a dingy hallway, Peter unlocked the door to his apartment. "Home." He announced as they entered. Erica stood in the middle of a small living area and looked around the tidy room. A tiny kitchenette was in one corner, an old saggy couch with cream-coloured cushions and a length of cotton fabric thrown over it, along the far wall, and a tiny table with two wooden chairs opposite. The grey wall between was covered in books. Erica moved to scan the titles. An eclectic collection in no apparent order sat on the shelves.

"Soda?" Peter asked. He placed a can on the table while Erica was looking at the books. She didn't seem to acknowledge the action, but shortly turned and sat in one of the wooden chairs. Peter had taken his shoes off and was slouched on the couch with his feet up. He had opened the small windows and helped himself to an icy soda from the fridge. He was still reasonably fit - all those years of web-swinging and wall-crawling meant he was no slouch - but his feet hurt. Erica finished her soda, and sat upright in her chair. She was looking a little uncomfortable, but Peter didn't think it was because she was hot or worn-out. Maybe she was still a little wary of him - after all, she was alone with a man who was virtually a stranger to her.

"I…" she started, just as Peter said "What do you want for dinner? Shall we grab a slice?"

"Eh?" she said, puzzled.

"Shall we go get pizza?" clarified Peter.

"Um, pizza… pizza's fine." A pause. "Thanks for showing me around Pete. I'm sorry, but I've got..."

She broke off suddenly and looked around in alarm.

Peter half sat up, what the? The phone rang. Peter reached out his arm and answered it. "Jake's Dry Cleaning! Oh, hi Aunt May! Guess who's here? Cousin Erica!" He looked up and winked at Erica, and was surprised to see that her face had gone white, her eyes still wide with alarm…and…guilt?

Then he registered what Aunt May was saying. "What do you mean, who's cousin Erica. Didn't you talk to her this morning?" He kept an eye on her. She was now standing and looked as if she were about to flee the apartment. "Look, Aunt May, I'll call you back later. Gotta go." Peter hurriedly hung the phone up as he stood to block Erica's exit. That wasn't hard - it was a pretty small apartment. He was angry - he had been duped - now what?

"Who are you?" Peter asked, his voice hard.

"Erica Stirling, from New Zealand" she replied shakily.

"Who are you really? Aunt May had never heard of you. If you're not my relative, what do you want from me?"

"We are related, but not by blood" Erica almost whispered.

"What do you mean?" said Peter, approaching her. He had begun to hope that he could lead a normal life, but now he knew he never could. Someone or something would always happen to threaten him because of his past, he was sure. He came nearer to Erica - by God, he would threaten her!

"What do you mean, 'not by blood'?" he repeated.

"This!" she exclaimed, and was gone.

Peter stumbled. She'd moved so fast, where'd she go? And then he saw a movement out the corner of his eye. He spun round, and almost fell over. Erica was clinging to the ceiling like…like…

Peter's mouth dropped open. "How?" he managed. He almost fell into the chair Erica had been sitting in earlier, tripping over her shoes on the floor. Erica dropped from the ceiling and landed silently and smoothly on the floor. She still looked a little alarmed and scared - and also somewhat relieved. "I was about to tell you when the phone rang" she said.

She walked over to the couch and sat down, elbows on knees, her head in her hands. "I've been trying to find the time… the way to tell you all day."

"But how…?"

"I'm sorry about the relations story Peter, I'm really sorry about that. I hope I haven't hurt you too much, but I really needed to get in contact with you, and as unobtrusively as possible. It was the only way I could think of." She sighed. "I probably stuffed up there, didn't I? Well if you're up to the real story…"

Peter nodded. He was feeling rather overwhelmed. Somebody with spider powers? His spider powers?

Erica went on "Two days ago, I was at home, in New Zealand, on my way to go out. All of a sudden I had what felt like a massive headache, worse than a migraine. I remember collapsing next to the car, and blacking out. When I came to again, I was in a park. I felt - very strange. I supposed I had somehow lost my memory when I blacked out, and was still feeling the after effects from it. I wasn't sure how I'd got into the park - or where it was. Then bam! my head was just…exploding again. I jumped up instinctively… but I jumped about three metres easily, and landed…on my feet… away from a guy who had been about to grab me from behind. I don't know who was more shocked, him or me! He grabbed my bag, and ran off with it. I chased him, caught up with him, and somehow avoided a punch he aimed at my head. Um… I kicked him in return…" Erica looked pained. "I don't think he'll be walking properly again for a while… I was terrified. I ran off. I didn't know what had happened to me. I came over a rise and saw… skyscrapers!"

Erica paused, looked sideways at Peter and gave a watery grin. "I wasn't in Kansas anymore Toto! Heh. Well, I found out I was in New York, Central Park. All I had on me was a few NZ dollars…and a credit card. Well, I…checked into a hotel. Um, yesterday morning I read a newspaper. I was pretty blown away by what I read. Every other page mentioned some super hero, or super villain!"

She looked at Peter. He looked back, nonplussed. What was so amazing about that? Erica cleared her throat. "Uh, I did some hard thinking. Somehow, I was not only mysteriously in New York, but I was in a different New York. A different world. Where super heroes are normal - well, maybe not normal, but accepted as part of the world. And where I was also incredibly faster and stronger. Um, this may sound silly, but…well I believe that somehow I've been transported into an… alternate world."

Peter sat up straight. His mind raced - could it be?

"Go on," he said, "What led you to contact me?"

"Well, yesterday afternoon, I…I…discovered by accident I could stick to walls…" Erica broke off, and Peter could see in her eyes the shock she'd had.

"I was…still am…pretty freaked out about that. I re-read the paper: 'Big Apple bites Spider-Man'. And I….I had to think. Spider-Man! If he's disappeared, and I'm here, with what appear to be spider powers, did his powers somehow come to me? Did he somehow end up in my world? What's happened?…I don't understand. I'm still, still dazed, I tell you. All this, having to cope with all this... Then yesterday's paper….The Daily Bugle, with a photo attributed to 'Peter Parker'. I knew I had to talk to you! That you could help… maybe." She fell silent.

In the silence that followed, Peter stirred, said slowly, cautiously, "I don't understand. Why me?"

Erica stood up, paced furiously for a moment and turned to Peter. "Because you are, or were, Spider-Man," she said, very matter of factually. "If you've lost your powers, and I've somehow gained them, maybe we can figure out together what happened, and what we can do about it."

Peter thought, so many people know or have known my secret identity, it wouldn't be that hard to find out if you were really determined.

But he said "What makes you think I'm Spider-Man?"

"Oh come off it!" Erica sounded frustrated. "Do you want to know how I know? Well, in my… alternate world, we don't have real live super heroes running about the place, but we do have fictional super heroes. One of the reasons I was so amazed when I read about them in the papers here, was that they were the same heroes. As I read about. In comics and…stuff. And…" She paused, looked embarrassed.

"Y'know, we have Spider-Man in comics here too - only based on fact; he's no fictional character…"

"Do your comics have only Spider-Man in them?" Erica asked, then went on, not waiting for a reply, "Because ours have Spider-Man and Peter Parker and they're not that far apart that one can't tell what the other's thinking, Mate. Or do I have to spell it out further for you?"

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Wheee! What is Peter's response? How do he and Erica deal with this revelation? Find out next chapter…