A/N: More action! And the result is not good…

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Chapter 20: Ambushed.

Wedging her fingers into the minute gap between the window frame and the sill, Spidey lifted the window open with one hand while the other hand and feet stuck to the bricks outside. She stepped through onto the sill and gave a short jump to land on the floor of the kitchen, where she promptly fell to her knees and started coughing. The paroxysm was not as bad as it had been at the fire, but the strain of holding the cough in to keep silent while she approached the apartment was too much.

Still coughing, she reached behind her back and pulled off the small webbed-up bundle containing her clothes; she had seen Spider-Man do that often enough in the comics, that when she didn't have her back-pack with her she had to have some method of carrying her clothes back with her. The coughing was subsiding. How long would it take to fully recover? She hoped she wouldn't still be coughing by evening, as she needed to observe unseen and unheard.

A drink of water, that's what she needed. Leaving her web-wrapped clothes on the floor, she stood and got herself a glass which she filled with water from the tap. Erica lifted her mask away from her mouth and drank deeply. That felt sooo much better. She peeled the mask the rest of the way off her head and stood leaning against the kitchen bench for a couple of minutes in thought, running her fingers through her hair and recovering the energy she needed to go and get changed.

She had acted without thought at all during the fire, trying to let her spider senses find any trace of anyone still in danger from the flames, but had discovered, to her horror, that the smoke dulled the special sense. She had had to crawl around at floor level and hope that she had covered the entire area when at last she had found the man overcome by the smoke. Dragging him out had been tough - by then, the smoke was getting to her too, and the heat from the flames was becoming more intense with each passing second. She had found the window more by instinct than anything; visibility had been down to nothing.

Erica remembered now, reading about how smoke affected Spider-Man's spidey sense, but to experience it herself… It showed her just how much she had become accustomed to it, even relied on it, that she had really noticed it's sudden loss. How much worse was it for Peter then, losing all his spider powers at once? It hit Erica with an abrupt realisation, just how much worse. Cripes, what an amazing guy Peter was to cope with that and help her too.

She was also a bit worried about something she had overheard when she had doubled back to pick up her clothes. She had heard Bill Hudson and one of his colleagues chatting as they walked underneath the ledge she was perched on, as they went about the clean up.

"…finally got to meet Spidey, huh?"

"Sure did!" Hudson had replied, "This time he couldn't take off as per usual. Ya know, I always thought he was bigger..."

"All public figures appear larger than life until you meet'em, you should know that."

"Yeah, but… I dunno, he seemed more… androgynous as well…" Hudson and his mate had wandered out of Spidey's earshot.

Erica knew she'd have to be careful in future around Hudson, even to the extent of avoiding him, maybe… he might work out why Spider-Man was different, not having the brains of a chocolate fish.

So involved was she with her thoughts, that she hadn't heard the clunking of the old lift or the quiet 'snick' as the flat door was unlocked and then opened. She also didn't hear the soft thump of the bag of clean washing hitting the floor, or the soft foot-falls coming across the lino. Therefore she jumped in startlement when Peter spoke.

"Erica! Hey, are you O.K? I wish you didn't have to do this…"

"Yeah," she croaked, "I'm fine. I'll be O.K. Hey, um, thanks for before…"

"No problem. I know what it's like. Even a super-hero can do with a little help now and then."

Erica grinned. "Too right!"

She coughed again, her gloved hand in front of her mouth. She looked down at her clothes still on the floor and noticed the state of her costume as she did so. "Oh Bugger! And we've just done the washing. What'll I do? I'll need to wear this tonight." She brushed futilely at a patch of soot on her arm.

"Wash it anyway, didn't you wear it damp this morning?"

"Duh."

"Look, I'm gonna take these photos in now, while they're still news. I'll pick up dinner on the way back, and later we can maybe test the foam formula." Peter hesitated, "If you're certain you're fine, that is…"

"I'll survive. Uh. I'm going to have another shower - I can still smell the smoke."

She picked up her clothes and moved out of the kitchen before Peter could say anything else. She didn't want to stay for the lecture and hear him going on again about it being his fault she got injured.

………………………………………………………………….

It was early evening, and the shadows were starting to lengthen. Already some buildings were in darkness, blocked from the sun's light by other, taller structures. A rich golden-orange light, the dying rays of the sun which had finally emerged from the cloud, bathed the tops of the skyscrapers to the east.

An unremarkable couple emerged from the subway station at West 59th Street and Columbus Circle and started walking towards the waterfront, to an area where it was recommended that people avoid after dark. Several derelict buildings were marked for demolition here, and the whole place was to be rebuilt, as a combination of housing, car-parking and amenities, on the same idea as had successfully been carried out further down the island at Battery Park. Anyone listening as they passed the couple would have heard that they were having a friendly argument about the respective merits of tea and coffee. The golden light disappeared and as dusk fell, the lights of Manhattan became more pronounced.

Erica thought that it seemed as if the island of Manhattan was a creature with two different sides; bustling, hyperactive, self-absorbed by day, and it's alter-ego; brooding, darker, watchful by night. They reached the first derelict building. Reports were that a large number of the marginalised populace of New York had moved in temporarily in these old apartment blocks; the homeless, illegal aliens, drug addicts, runaway teenagers, and those who preyed on them. The police tended to leave then alone unless an incident came to their notice, and that wasn't often; the shifting population covered it's tracks very well. Erica knew they really were asking for trouble by walking about here, looking like an easy target for someone.

She felt the hair rise up on the back of her neck, as they walked on into the gathering darkness. No buildings showed lights here, and every other street light was out of action. She felt apprehensive, and a wee bit scared, even given the fact of her undoubted capabilities. She moved closer to Peter's side, glancing at him. He seemed unconcerned, without fear. Was it because of his faith in her, or only that his past had inured him to such neighbourhoods?

"…tastes like dishwater, and with milk added, looks like it too." Peter was saying, continuing their good-natured bantering.

Erica's voice trembled a bit as she replied lamely. "Coffee's like dishwater with burnt bits added."

Peter stopped and looked at her, as if he could tell her heart was no longer in it. "Not much further," he said, "there's an old store…" he broke off as Erica clutched at his arm with urgency.

Her spider-sense had flared up in warning; it must have been why she was feeling uneasy before, but it was now too late for her to change into her spidey-suit, and she didn't want to leave Peter by himself even for a moment. Out of the dark shadows, darker forms were moving. Erica could count four, and she knew that more were coming. Her only hope was that the light was so dim, that she'd be unrecognisable, and that the approaching figures would not know what hit them until too late. Even the small warning she had was enough to prepare themselves.

When a voice came out of the darkness, it wasn't as big a shock as it may have been. "Well, well, two little lambs to the slaughter. Hand over your wallets and any valuables, and we won't hurt you…. much."

Erica didn't respond, but she could feel Peter tense up beside her. She placed her hand on his sleeve, gently, and felt some of the tension ease. They waited silently, Erica wanting the figures to come nearer, within reach. She heard a 'schlick' as a knife was opened and watched as the dark shadows separated and advanced.

The voice that spoke before did so again, softer and more menacing. "It looks like our little friends don't want to play our game. Maybe we should encourage them…"

The features of the speaker could be seen now, a sallow, pinched face set in a body that was as thin as the back of a chair. He looked like he had missed more than a few meals; his body was the wrong size for his coat. Erica could not afford to feel sorry for him or his mates at this point in time; the knives they were holding looked very sharp…

"Now!" he cried, and the rush was on.

Erica hoped Peter would be able to defend himself; if he could do that, she'd be able to do the rest. Erica gripped the wrist of knife-wielding leader as he charged toward her - obviously taking her for the easiest victim - and used his forward momentum against him, as she bent and flipped him over her back. He landed in a crumpled heap against a set of stone steps. Then she half turned and rammed her elbow into the stomach of the one who was attacking her from her right. She kept low and contorted her body to avoid his knife. He doubled up with a 'whoof' and sat, surprised and winded on the footpath. Erica was being careful not to move too fast or hit too hard; she wanted these fellas to think she was some sort of martial arts expert.

On her left, she noticed Peter was holding his own with his assailant; he had learnt enough about fighting, that even though he no longer was as fast or strong as Spider-Man, he was still no push-over. But she had no time to dwell on how he was doing; here came two more, approaching her with more caution than the previous two.

To aid her pretence, Erica dropped into a typical martial arts pose, as she had seen in all those kung-fu movies she used to see on television as a girl. She grinned at the play-acting and was pleased to see her grin had the added bonus of disconcerting her two attackers. As they hesitated, Erica called out to them, in a high clear voice, "If you leave us now, I promise I won't hurt you… much."

This had the opposite effect, and they both charged at once, banking on the old two-against-one odds. It didn't work for them.

Erica side-stepped one whilst disarming him with a back-hand slap of her left hand, and at the same instant she twisted and lashed out with her foot to disarm the other. They both recoiled but recovered quickly, each going at her from either side at once.

'I've always wanted to do this,' thought Erica, and she leapt straight up as they reached her, spinning and kicking each leg out in a parody of a karate kick, "Hii-ya!" She felt her feet connect and both men dropped to the ground, stunned.

The tingling at the base of her skull warned her of someone behind her; no, it was someone behind Pete, sneaking up on him while he was occupied fighting.

Erica didn't spend the time thinking, she reacted quickly to aid him, throwing herself at the attacker's legs with a low rugby tackle. They went sprawling to the ground, Erica curling herself into a ball and rolling away to jump up again a couple of metres away. Unfortunately, the action directly behind him had disturbed Peter's concentration for a second, and he missed blocking a swipe at him from his assailant's knife. It sliced through his clothing into the flesh of his upper right arm as he partly turned to see what was happening. He clutched at his arm in shock, as blood immediately started to darken his jacket under his fingers; a moment later he hissed with the pain.

Erica caught sight of this as she came upright. Peter's assaulter was about to take advantage of his shock, and use his knife again while Peter was vulnerable. Erica's spidey-sense flared up chronically, but she didn't need it to tell her the danger.

Enraged, and using all her spider speed, she leapt and knocked the attacker's arm away from Peter, then, still in a rage, picked him up by his front and threw him as hard as she could away from her. He went flying through the air and landed in the middle of the deserted street with a crunching thud.

"Oh Lord, what have I done?" Erica wailed. It was no longer a game. Through her carelessness, Peter had been injured, and through her uncontrolled anger, she had possibly badly injured another person.

Her stomach sank, and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. She turned to Peter, who was still standing there, wide-eyed, with blood slowly dripping from his wound.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him, shocked herself, "I didn't mean for you to get hurt."

With an effort that Erica could feel, Peter attempted to shrug it off. "It's not your fault. It's mine if anybody's. I've received worse than this before."

"Yes, but…"

"No buts. If you hadn't stopped the guy behind me, it may well have been worse."

"We've got to get you to a doctor's… you may need stitches with the amount of blood coming out there. Here, wait."

Erica unzipped her fleece jacket, untucked her shirt and ripped a couple of strips of cotton off from around the bottom hem to use as bandages. "Just like in the movies," she joked, though she didn't feel the slightest bit amused.

Trusting in her spider sense to warn her if any of their attackers recovered enough for a second round, Erica helped Peter off with his jacket. He grimaced from the pain, but said nothing. Erica started to roll up his shirt sleeve, then thought 'what the heck, it's ruined anyway', and simply ripped the whole sleeve off, carefully, so as to not jar the injured arm. She inspected the wound as closely as she could in the dim light; it appeared to be a deep but straight cut, going diagonally from the front of the upper arm down towards the elbow, but she couldn't tell if it was clean or not. Erica took the sleeve she had torn off and folded it up into a pad, which she placed directly over the wound. She then used the strips from her shirt to wrap around the arm and hold the pad in place.

"There, that should hold it, at least 'til we get it seen to properly." She placed Peter's jacket over his shoulders. He looked down at his arm and then at Erica's shirt.

"That's two of my shirts you've ruined," he said.

Erica couldn't tell if he was kidding for her benefit or his. She looked down at the tatters of the shirt, realising that an awful lot of the front of her Spider-Man costume was exposed. Quickly, she zipped up her fleece jacket again.

She then left Peter for a moment and walked across the street to where the man lay. He was moaning softly, and to her astonishment only appeared to have had the wind knocked out of him. But how? She shuffled him lightly with her foot and heard the crunching sound once more; it was coming from his clothing - his large bulky overcoat seemed to be lined with something, something that provided insulation and had cushioned his fall. Erica decided not to investigate any further, and left him where he lay.

Going back to Peter, she said, "Let's flick our wick - and get outta here."

This was no longer the time or place to try out the new foam formula; that would have to wait for now.

"That's it, we're almost home," Erica reassured Peter, as she supported his weight and helped him walk the last few metres to the door of their building. The taxi had dropped them off as close as it could get, but it was still almost too far for Peter to make in his state. The doctor at the clinic he'd directed Erica to earlier had not only cleaned and stitched his wound for him, but had administered painkillers and a powerful sedative, which had now started taking affect.

They reached the entrance, and Erica propped Peter up as she fished in his jacket pocket for his keys. She unlocked the door and again supported Peter as they entered into the building. Locking the door behind her, she turned in time to see Peter slump to the floor. "Oh, stuff it!" she muttered to herself, then knowing there was no-one around to witness her action, lifted Peter easily off the floor and cradled him with her right arm so that his injured arm in it's sling was away from her body.

"Thank goodness you're so skinny, eh. Makes you easier to handle."

The lift was already there, so she carried him into it, talking the whole time as it trundled up to their floor. "I should've slipped off a bit earlier back there and become Spider-Man, that way I could have gone all out on those jokers without this sort of hoo-haa happening."

"Can't we go out anywhere without you having to take off and turn into Spidey?" Peter complained teasingly, slurring his words.

"You can talk! Oh well, at least it keeps me off the streets. I mean, it keeps me above the streets - busier than a blue-arsed fly!"

Peter gave a faint chuckle. Erica looked down at him, and saw he was barely awake. If he had been more conscious, he would have protested at being carried, she figured.

Once in the flat, she laid him gently onto his bed. He was totally out of it by now, but Erica knew she shouldn't leave him in his blood-stained clothes. Quickly, and pretending he was someone she didn't know, Erica deftly stripped him out of his outer garments and pulled his duvet over his sleeping form. She looked down at him and sighed. Sleep was the best thing for him now. Meanwhile, she had other concerns to see to…

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews - it's good to know that someone's reading and enjoying!

Cheers,

Apteryx