A/N: Feel free to ask any questions, eh. I do have the whole thing outlined and plotted, so I know exactly where the piece is going - unless the characters decide otherwise…
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Chapter 5: Getting Acquainted.
In which Erica gets another job, and some training in the first.
Walking from the subway to the Bugle offices, Peter could see that Erica was striding along, almost with a spring in her step. She was smiling and really looking around, taking things in. He noticed that she looked up more often than a person normally would when walking - of course, with her spidey sense, she wouldn't be in any danger of tripping or collisions, though she probably didn't consciously know that. He guessed she was sussing out the lay of the land, so to speak. Her purse hung loosely on her shoulder. She was so obviously a visitor to New York, in amongst the rest of the workers. He smiled.
"What are you going to do for money?" he asked her. She looked at him, suddenly brought back to the ground. "You'll be here a while at least, and… I can't really support us both for much longer."
"Oh." said Erica. "I'll have to find a job, I guess, but I don't know how easy that will be - for one thing, do foreigners need a work-permit or visa or some such to get a job in the States?"
"It might have to be under the table anyway - you don't have a Social Security number or an American bank account. Hmmm…"
"Waiting tables?"
"That'd be no good - look at the hours. What did you do in New Zealand?"
"What did I do for a crust? I trained and work as a librarian. But that's only recent - I was a sailor - I crewed for years on a tall-ship that taught life skills and team work to teenagers, among other things. Not much call for that in New York City, I bet!"
"Wow." Peter remembered something he had read yesterday while looking at the Bugle's want ads. "I've got an idea. If you don't mind working at the Bugle as well. Our photo library needs a part-time casual assistant. The old one just left. Jameson may be willing to take you on if it means he can pay you the absolute minimum and not worry about health insurance and all the rest. But at least it will be some money. We'll see what a little 'nepotism' can do!"
"Great! If it works." Erica was back to looking at buildings.
Peter introduced Erica as his cousin from New Zealand as he moved through the office. Some people only grunted, others like Joe 'Robbie' Robertson were more welcoming. "New Zealand? Isn't that where The Lord of the Rings movie was filmed?"
"Yeah, that's right. I live not far from Lothlorien and part of Helm's Deep!"
"Well how about that!" Robbie looked interested. But Peter interrupted.
"Is Jolly Jonah in? I need to ask him something."
"Go ahead - but you're not his favourite at the moment."
Peter grimaced, "When was I ever?" grabbed Erica by the arm and pulled her towards an office.
"Bye, nice meeting you!" she waved to Joe Robertson. He smiled and waved a hand full of papers in return, and then she was through the door.
"Parker!" roared the grizzled man from behind his desk, chomping on the end of a cigar. "Where's that menace Spider-Man? And who's this?" he continued, flicking a glance at Erica. "Not that it matters. Photos - can you bring me photos proving Spider-Man is dead?"
Erica calmly sat down in one of the chairs in front of Jameson's desk, and looked at him curiously. He growled, took the cigar out of his mouth and pointed it at her. "Who do you think you are? Out! Out!!" he shouted.
"Maybe he's just on holiday," she said, crossing her legs. "Perhaps you could put a personal in your paper 'Dear Spidey, having a great time, wish you were here. Please send postcards and photos. Love Jonah'."
Jameson stared at her, mouth open.
Peter also stared at her slightly shocked - how could he ask Jameson for a job for her after that remark? He turned his head back as he heard a strange sound. What?
Jameson was laughing. He had his head flung back and was in danger of tipping backwards out of his chair with the laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see people staring into the office in surprise. Slowly, Jameson recovered himself. Then he scowled at Erica.
"Whaddya want?"
"A job," she replied. Peter jumped in to explain.
"Grrr. Alright. Don't think I'm getting soft though. Now, get out! And Parker! Find me Spider-Man, dead or alive!"
They exited hurriedly.
"Whew," said Peter, "I thought you were dead meat there for a while. What got into you?"
"I thought a bit of humour would put him in a good mood - I knew it wouldn't do any harm with the mood he was in when we went in there."
"Oh, that's just Jameson. You get used to it."
"Yes, I know."
This could get a bit spooky, thought Peter. What else does she know? She's a strange mix of knowingness and naivety.
Erica spent the rest of the morning getting acquainted with her new job. Peter needed time to think. He headed for the darkroom, where he knew he wouldn't be interrupted. Automatically he checked the rolls of film to be developed and the negatives to be printed, and started mixing the chemical baths. As he worked, he wondered how he could resolve how he felt about the loss of his powers at the same time as helping someone else come to terms with acquiring them. Guilt he could handle, he was used to it; jealousy…'I'm going to have to find some middle ground, too dangerous else.'
When they met up for lunch, Peter was glad to find out that Erica's hours were flexible; the duties mainly consisting of classification and filing of photos, with only a few non-urgent research queries to be answered. "Easy-peasy," said Erica.
"Well, you won't get much for it."
"As long as it's enough to chip in for food and rent, that's all I need. Maybe a new outfit too, eh," she said, looking down at her clothes. She looked up at Peter, smiling. "New smalls, and a pair of jeans at the least. I can probably borrow your shirts?"
"Why not? It'll only be for a short time." They were eating at the coffee shop around the corner again, that was Peter's regular haunt.
"So, what are we doing this afternoon?"
"Shopping. Clothes for you, and groceries."
"That's cool, as long as I don't thrash the plastic too much."
Peter thought about the afternoon. As a shopper, Erica didn't muck around and seemed to have no trouble figuring what was a good price; she said converting NZ dollars to US in her head was easy given the exchange rate, she was glad it wasn't anything tricky. She paid for her new clothes with her credit card - the 'plastic' she wasn't keen to thrash earlier. They also visited the Rockefeller Plaza, where Peter picked up a few informational books on New York City at a specialist book store.
"You need to get more familiar with New York City" said Peter, "You'll be travelling around it a fair bit."
"Some of it seems so familiar already - all those movies and TV shows, I guess."
"It's a big city," warned Peter.
Back at the apartment, there was a message on the answer-phone from Aunt May, formally inviting them to dinner that evening. "We'd better go, she'll want to meet you. I hope you've got your story ready."
"Sure," replied Erica.
"I don't think with this Spider-Man business and all, that you can stay at Aunt May's. It will have to be here."
"Sorry about that, about invading your privacy," said Erica, "You must be very used to it, and now you have a stranger dossing down in your living room."
"Well, you know, it doesn't matter now I'm not Spider-Man."
"Don't be pathetic - of course you miss it." She grinned, to show there was no offence intended. "Well, I'm only your flatmate... what do you call it when friends live in the same apartment; room-mate? That's what we are for a short time."
Peter was wondered how he felt about that. Sure, some of it was that his privacy was gone, but also the very strangeness of the situation. Erica seemed confident now, happy, as if she didn't really have a care about anything.
Erica was unpacking the groceries. "I'll put the kettle on. Perhaps you can show me how you make your coffee?"
She touched his arm as he came into the kitchen. "I'm sorry Pete" she said. And then seemingly able to read his mind, she continued, "I dunno… somehow in trying on the Spider-Man costume, I've…gained more confidence. I'm not as scared now as I was. You must admit it's exciting for me - you've been through this, you must have been a show-off for a while."
"You won't be disappointed to give it up and go home?"
"Yes of course, but I know I'm only a temporary guardian for your powers. That's one reason I'm enjoying it all while I can." She opened up the fridge, started putting food on the shelves.
Peter watched her and sighed. It was weird having another woman staying with him, to be with each other for large amounts of time. He hoped that this would be over soon and Erica would be gone. The only other woman he wanted to live closely with - closer actually, was Mary-Jane. He missed her. They hadn't really spoken to each other over the last week. He still hadn't taken the chance to tell her that he was no longer Spider-Man, he wasn't even sure she would have heard the rumours in the media. Perhaps at a certain level he was putting it off, afraid of M-J's reaction. What if it wasn't enough of an incentive for her to come back to him? Could he live with that? He could be Spider-Man and be as he was, or not be Spider-Man and be with Mary-Jane. This was his opportunity…if he wanted to take it. Or… was he just dreaming…
"Yes…while you can."
He must have looked sad. Erica looked startled and then asked sympathetically, "Are you all right? Do you want to talk about it?"
"No. It's nothing. It's personal…" He had sounded harsher than he meant to.
Erica looked down at her hands, a pained expression on her face. "Sorry again," she said, "it's just that…reading about you I feel I know you already…I forget that you aren't just fictional anymore." The kettle whistled, steam hissing into the air. "Here, the coffee." She stood aside, leaning against the counter as she watched Peter. He measured beans into the old striped ceramic coffee grinder attached to the wall, gave a good few turns of the handle and tipped the grounds into the coffee perc. Together they watched the water splatter and spit against the glass lid.
Peter said "There's something I wanted to ask you too - you're so confident today, and it's not just from trying on the Spidey-suit. How come you were so nervous yesterday?'
"Mate! Are you kidding? Apart from anything else, there I was, about to meet a character I'd grown up with, a fictional character come alive. How would you be?"
"Depends on the character. But yeah, I'd be nervous meeting Spider-Man. He's some scary dude!" They laughed, any tension between them gone.
Erica made a cup of tea for herself and they took their drinks over to the couch and sat chatting about fiction and books in general. Erica was widely read, and they found out they shared a few favourites; Peter would jump up and snatch a volume from his book-case to show Erica. He'd almost forgot what it was like to share an interest with a friend. A friend…
"Good Lord, is that the time?" Erica caught sight of the clock above the table and jumped up. "I'm going to have a shower before we go to your Aunt's…change into my clean clothes."
"Good idea. Umm…wear the costume under. Put your street clothes on over the Spidey costume, and tuck the mask and gloves away. The web-shooters can be pushed further up your arms out of view. If we leave earlier, then as soon as it's dark you can try them out. Maybe you'll be practised enough to try a spot of web-swinging on our way back after dinner."
"All righty!"
On the roof of an empty brownstone building stood two figures. They were hard to make out in the gloom - no lights shone upon their presence from street lamps or neighbouring buildings. Peter was guiding Erica in the art of shooting web. She was still in civvies - Peter was confident they wouldn't be seen, and just to be sure, had reminded Erica to keep an 'ear' out for her spider sense; it would alert her if there were any danger.
"Perhaps you can start by aiming web at the water tower from here." He pointed to the structure at the other side of the roof. "Try to get a good strong line."
She lifted an arm and aimed at the tank. 'thwip'. A thin line stuck to the middle of it. "Good! Try again." 'thwip'. "And again." 'thwip, thwip.' Peter kept Erica at it for about ten minutes; he needed to see that her aim was consistent. "Well, that's marvellous aim with your left hand - did you used to play ball?"
"No…"
"Umm, well….try the other hand now."
'thwip'. A string of web drifted out into the night. "Hmm, you must be left-handed. I hadn't noticed. Try again." 'thwip'. "Better," as it hit the edge of the tank. "Again and again." 'thwip, thwip, thwip'. All hit the centre.
"…But I got pretty good at darts, had to be, playing down below in a ship under sail. Told you I had some skills!" She smiled almost mischievously at him. Peter grunted in response, "Ten more minutes, then we'd better get going," he said, looking at the watch on his wrist. Erica wasn't able to wear hers and the shooters as well, so she had given it to Peter to use. He found it a novelty being able to tell the time when he wanted to; Erica had even suggested he could get a cell-phone if he wanted one, now he had pockets at all times. "Crud," he'd replied, "Who'd call me?" But it was a nice thought all the same.
Erica let off a few more web lines, this time practising varying the thickness, before Peter called her over and pointed to the spinneret on one of the shooters. "You can adjust this to get different forms of webbing. It might be an idea to try some of them out - nets, balls etc. I know you're only going to be swinging around a bit, but all the same…"
He demonstrated with his hands and wrists how to do them. Erica copied, with mixed results. "Humph - better not waste any more web-fluid, not with the price of it nowadays!" He wasn't entirely joking either. "C'mon," he told her, "we don't want to be late for dinner!"
"Taskmaster and timekeeper," Erica grumbled humorously at him, as they clambered back down the rusty fire escape at the side of the brownstone. Peter grinned.
"You'll do," he said.
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Next: A little action at last!