A/N: I've made up a name for a group in this chapter - I don't know the language, so it's only a word-for-word translation - probably completely wrong… :\
Only a few more chapters till the end… thanks for your patience!
Cheers,
Apteryx
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Chapter 33: Reward.
The living room of Peter's apartment felt like an old comfortable cardy, something you could slip on and wrap around you to warm not only your body, but your emotional state as well. Erica felt she needed that; there had been so many highs and lows throughout the afternoon – in fact throughout the last few days – that she craved some calm, time to think without tension, without the anticipation of a threat looming ahead. So. Now it was all over, what did she feel?
Well, it wasn't over, not for her.
She had been operating so much on the 'get-Octopus-then-get-'Ray-man-and-get-home' scenario, that to have 'Ray-man', or 'Actino', dead, and her chances of getting back home also dead, meant that she felt totally drained. Anticlimactic. Erica thought she should possibly be feeling upset, or angry, but not confused like she was. She was horrified too; she felt she had indirectly been the cause of two deaths, Dealy and Whithead, and almost the cause of another, Peter's.
Erica curled up on the couch and sipped her cup of tea. Since leaving the Student Services Centre, she had retrieved the camera she'd set up, then sneaked off to retrieve her backpack and clothes where she'd stashed them. She'd changed, caught the subway back to the apartment, showered, changed again, washed the Spider-Man outfit and hung it up to dry. Keeping busy kept her from thinking too much. She had also raided Pete's well stocked medicine cabinet and found some analgesic, something called Motrin – she was unfamiliar with all the brands - and now she was resting; it was starting to hurt to even breathe.
Her eyes hurt too, but Erica couldn't tell whether that was because of the bright sunlight reflecting off all those metallic surfaces while she was fighting in the atrium, or a side effect of the blow to the head she'd taken. Maybe even the after effects of Actino's ray-gun… She tried to puzzle that out; what had happened when Pete got his spider-powers back anyway? But her head hurt. In fact, her whole body hurt.
"Stuff it!" she exclaimed, resting her head against the back of the couch and closing her eyes.
She must have dozed off for a while. Erica woke with a start when the clang of the elevator announced its arrival at the penthouse level. She quickly grabbed her now cold cup of tea off the floor, and carefully stood up, favouring her side. She noted with relief that her other various aches had gone, for which she was grateful; she must have needed that bit of sleep more than she knew. Glancing up at the clock as she went to the kitchen, she saw that it was later than she thought – a good two hours had passed since she left ESU – she wasn't sure if that meant Mary-Jane had spent a short, long or medium length of time giving her statement to the police. How long is a piece of string?
The front door opened and the couple walked in, Mary-Jane looking tense and weary, but Peter seeming alert and ready for anything. He still had his arm in its sling, but Erica noticed that his injury barely bothered him as he placed his camera bag on the table, pulled out a chair for MJ to sit on, and glanced over at Erica in greeting. MJ sat down without her usual grace and gave a huge sigh, then she turned and tilted her head back to look up at Pete.
"What do you think you were trying to achieve back there, Mr Parker? You almost had yourself killed!"
She was really furious. Erica wouldn't have wanted to be in Peter's shoes at that moment; she guessed the anger had been simmering for a while, and was only allowed to boil over now that they were in private.
Peter gave a large, fake grin, more a grimace, of embarrassment.
"I had to help Erica. I couldn't leave her like that."
"Bullshit. You didn't spontaneously decide to help. You had it all planned. And with your arm too…"
"I'm a super-hero. I have to."
"You're a super-hero without powers – that stupid strength formula doesn't count. That's not being a super-hero, that's being a super-fathead."
"But…" both Peter and Erica interjected together. Could it be that MJ didn't realise, didn't know?
"But nothing. You ever pull a stunt like that again, and I'm out for good this time."
"But…" repeated Peter.
"And that's not an empty threat either. Oh, Peter, I was worried sick about you!"
"But…"
"But what?" After her initial outburst, MJ had calmed down enough to notice that Peter did have something he wanted to tell her.
"But I have got powers. My spider-powers are back."
"And I'm really the Hulk…"
"He has!" Erica asserted.
"What! How? Why didn't you tell me?"
Peter laughed. "I was trying to, you idiot." He put his arm around Mary-Jane, and lifted her out of her chair, brought her close in to him for a hug. "It was that ray-gun that did it."
Mary-Jane looked startled. "Oh," she said, and broke free. She quickly un-zipped the camera bag, and to the astonishment of both Erica and Peter, pulled out the very ray-gun in question.
Erica gaped, then asked, "How did you get hold of that?"
Smiling at their reactions, MJ handed the gun over to Peter, who took it curiously.
"It landed not far from where I was hiding, so I crept out and got it. I missed the end of the battle because of it, and when I got back, Erica was foaming Octopus, and you were leaning against a pillar, watching. I didn't see you fighting…"
"…and didn't see I had my spider-powers back. I see." Peter turned the gun over in his hands once more, then put it carefully down on the table. "I'd like to have a closer look at it later."
Erica asked the question that had been bugging her, stuck in her head like an annoying tune.
"How come, if you've got your powers back, I've still got spider-powers? I mean, theoretically, when that gun was used on you again, I should have gone back powerless to my own universe."
"I don't know. You did say that Dealy was buying more bits for it; perhaps he adjusted it to do something different. He also thought I still had my powers." Peter grinned, "Your impersonation's been good enough for that. So obviously his 'alter-ray' didn't work as he expected it to yet again."
Upset again, Erica turned away from them, she slumped over onto the couch, head lowered, and ran her fingers through her hair. If the unexpected happened each time the ray-gun was fired, how would she ever be able to get home? Resting her cheekbones on the palms of her hands, she shuddered; she imagined being sent under aegis of the gun, to a completely different alternative universe – one where she knew no-one and where the whole background was such that she was utterly out of her depth. Or the 'alter-ray' stripped both her and Peter of the spider-powers but still left her here. Or…
Someone sat next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it was Peter.
"Y'know," he offered, "we could get help. I didn't think of it before, because they were out of town, but I could ask the Fantastic Four…"
"Oh, Reed Richards. I'd forgotten about him." Erica lifted her head and looked directly at Peter in hope.
"Well, he'd be able to figure out what the 'alter-ray' is, anyways. C'mon now," he said, changing the subject, "let's all go out and get dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm starved!"
Over dinner at Mullen's, Erica mostly recovered her good spirits. The bright and noisy busy atmosphere helped somewhat, but what really helped was the food. She must have been low in blood sugar or something. Peter was really sparking; although he hadn't said anything, he must be stoked to have his powers back, Erica thought. He was recounting the highlights of the questioning Mary-Jane and he had undergone, in between tackling one of the largest steaks Erica had ever seen.
"…it took four cops to move him out; they had called in the special ops team, and I presume they were taking him to the Vault - that's a special prison for the super-villain types - yet again." He pulled a face, "As long as they don't let him escape…"
He was giving this much detail for her sake, Erica guessed, as a stranger.
"I took a few pics, but I didn't want to bring attention to myself."
"I got a whole lot of it on film too," said Erica.
"Great. Jameson will be happy."
"Yes, you've got to keep him happy," added in MJ, "and we all know which ones he'll run with."
Peter was staring into space for a bit. "Y'know," he said thoughtfully, "we never tested the foam for permanency, and it's far enough off the usual formula that…"
"You mean they may have to chip him out?" Erica laughed, "How embarrassing. Some of it stuck to his clothes I think…"
She turned to MJ. "How did the suggesting he was delusional go down?"
"It's just as well – Ock did indeed start saying that Spider-Man was a woman. No one believed him. I think the police would have an easier time believing some of the wilder stories they hear – they kept saying, "You mean Spider-Woman," and he was going, "No! Spider-Man! Spider-Man was a woman, and then the real Spider-Man appeared and fought me," and they were all, "Yeah, riiight," so I think you're OK, safe still."
Erica was not so sure; she had seen the speculative look in Sergeant Hudson's eyes before, and after a statement like that, he was bound to have the idea lurking at the back of his mind. She'd been a bit careless this morning visiting him, and had forgot totally about it in the aftermath of the battle; this evening she'd have to make more use of the shadows, pay attention to her vocals.
She mopped up the last of the gravy from her Irish stew with a piece of bread, running it around her plate until it was clean, while she thought of what to say next.
"Um, didn't Hudson think it strange it was your wife who witnessed it all? I mean, with you associated with Spider-Man and that?"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "No, I don't believe he did. He wasn't surprised to see me – with Jameson and all the rest of the media about. But he did have a job trying to keep the media out, especially the TV crews. I think he was relieved to find that MJ wasn't someone after a hot scoop…"
"Jameson did try to offer me a sum of money for my story," cut in MJ, "but I turned him down. He's not going to have the opportunity to distort the facts with my complicity."
"Yeah, it's not as if you haven't done that already without his help." Peter teased.
Mary-Jane pulled a face and poked him in the ribs. "Just because I can't beat up on you any more!"
Peter chuckled, but Erica's thoughts were already elsewhere. With Sergeant Hudson again, actually. She didn't believe that he'd make nothing of the coincidence of MJ being there, he was too acute for that, but at least she and MJ had acted as total strangers with each other.
The talk turned to other subjects over coffee. Erica watched Peter and Mary-Jane together, and noticed how MJ became enlivened in his presence; from looking tired earlier, she was now bubbly and bright. Yet another reason to go home…
Feeling not excluded, but definitely extraneous, Erica got up, mumbled her excuses and left, paying her share of the meal as she went. She glanced back at the table as she reached the door, and saw that neither of them had missed her. She had other things she had to do anyway… but it was hard to shake the feeling of anticlimax. She chose to walk back to the apartment. A slow walk up Seventh Avenue, past delis, food outlets and restaurants, apartment blocks and even a couple of old textile retailers, remnants of the trade that originally gave the Garment District its name.
Erica took her time, peering into windows of the delis at the food on display, walking past buildings she guessed were still factories, filled with immigrants at sewing machines trying to compete with cheap imports, and up past the bulk of Madison Square Garden – funny name for something so not a garden. It was busy tonight; according to the signs, a game with the New York Knicks. As she made her way through the happy crowds, Erica wondered what sport they played – a New Yorker would probably think it sacrilege that she didn't know.
It was times like these she felt so much the outsider, a stranger in the city. It was a kind of joke, that she had played the part of another outsider, yet one who was that way for a different reason. Well, not much longer now.
Another block up, and somebody grabbed her arm. Erica whirled about in surprise; her spidey-sense hadn't gone off, and when she saw who it was, she laughed in relief.
"You're jumpy," said Siobhan. She was with a guy who was obviously a Knicks fan, at least according to his t-shirt.
"What do you expect? A stranger, walking by herself through the streets of New York after dark…"
"Where's your mysterious cousin?"
"He and his mysterious wife are having dinner together."
"Shame. Look, you be careful now… We've gotta go."
"Cheerio." Erica smiled as she watched them go. She may be an outsider now, but if she ended up having to stay in this reality she still had a few friends, and could make more…
As she walked the last distance to the building and the apartment, she thought about that possibility.
If…
With Pete back as Spider-Man, she wouldn't continue as Spidey, but with spider-powers still, could she be plain Erica Stirling again? Erica wasn't so sure now; two weeks ago, even thinking such a thought would have sent her into deep panic. A week ago, she would have said yes without hesitation. Today, she couldn't believe she was seriously contemplating whether she should assume a different alter-ego and keep helping combat crime.
The apartment was locked. Looking about, and relying on her spider-sense, Erica ducked into the alley and scaled the bricks up to the bathroom window, much as she had done earlier.
"Ruddy ribs," she groaned as she flopped onto the bathroom floor, in pain after the climb. Well, at least she wouldn't have to hide the fact she was injured to Hudson… not as Spidey. It would be easier to hide that sort of thing if she happened to meet him as Erica anyway – the sergeant wouldn't expect her to be leaping and swinging about the place.
Erica bound her ribs up with a huge elastic band she found in the medicine cabinet – although she had heard it wasn't the done thing with broken ribs nowadays, she felt she wouldn't be able to last the evening out without some sort of support. Pulling the Spidey costume off the hanger, she changed into it with mixed feelings, very aware that this would be the last time she wore it.
She checked the time by the clock. Time to get going.
Gathering up the photos and papers that she had, she placed them in an envelope and slipped it securely under her belt. Then, with a certain amount of ritual significance, Erica pulled the costume's mask over her head.
Just as she reached the bathroom window again, she heard the clanking of the lift. Peter and MJ returning. They must have come after her. Well, she'd see them later. In a flash, Spidey was out the window, and the flat was empty.
Spidey took her time going the short distance across town to the precinct, and not only because of her broken ribs. She was relishing the freedom, enjoying the sensation of travelling through the air as she swung on her strands of web. Man, had she changed! Perhaps she should get back into sailing once she was home again, maybe even go for a bungy jump. Somehow, she thought the prospect of such pursuits didn't worry her at all now.
West 35th Street, and the Precinct just ahead. Spidey landed on top of the building and crawled down the stone frontage to the window of Hudson's office. She was bemused to see that the window was wide open, even though it was night and the temperature had dropped until it had reached the ambience of the interior of a refrigerator. Now, if that isn't a welcome mat laid out for Spidey, then I don't know what is, she thought. Through the window, she viewed the sergeant at his desk – more paperwork, no wonder he was working late. He's got to hate me for that though...
Knocking on the window frame this time to announce her presence, she observed as she climbed in, "What a sucky job, eh? I get to have all the fun, and you do the boring bits at the end."
Hudson smiled as he motioned her to the other chair. "I'd rather have my job than yours any day."
"Yeah, I must admit the pay is pretty lousy." She ignored the chair, and instead instantaneously webbed herself a perch; there were no shadows in the brightly lit office to help conceal her form, so she'd have to make do with how she sat.
"How are your ribs?"
"Got any spare?"
Hudson chuckled, then came straight to the point without further preamble. "Doctor Octavius has made some interesting accusations against you; most of it is bluster, but I'm curious to see whether you can clear up a couple of points for me…"
'Uh oh, here it comes,' thought Spidey to herself, but out loud, "Sure, though it's likely to be the old my-word-against-his," she said.
"He claims you attacked him out of malice, and have no proof of your claims against him."
Without a word, Spidey pulled out the envelope and tossed it on the desk in front of Hudson. He let it sit there for a while, as he continued to converse with her.
"And he claims you're a, ahem, a woman…"
Spidey forced herself to stay relaxed in her hammock chair. "What, I hit like a girl or something? Tentacles and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me," she chuckled.
"What I thought," said Hudson. He opened the envelope and tipped out its contents – a glass slide, and several pages of text. Carefully not touching the sample slide, he read the notes signed by Whithead. Sighing, he replaced them on his desk and slowly twirled around in his chair while he cogitated, then looked up at Spidey.
"One of our officers is at the Moroney Clinic now, searching for his body. We'll check this tunnel out. I think this is proof enough. But how did you discover the whole scheme?"
"Someone tried to off me a coupla weeks ago – that's nothing new – but several things about the attempt were screwy, so I looked into it, in my own interests of course."
"Of course."
Spidey chuckled. "It's ironic. If Ock hadn't tried to have me out of the way then, I might never have known he was about, or what he was up to. He might have succeeded with his plan if it wasn't for that pre-emptive strike."
Hudson shuddered. "I doubt you'll get many thanks from other sources, so I'd like to say thanks myself."
"No problem. You're right, I don't get much appreciation and approbation; it's nice when I do."
"You may also want to know about the Lebab 'ayin Lashown."
"The what?"
"You called them the Untongued. We thought journalists or the media were their targets to begin with, but Blomfield wasn't that. He's the Israeli attaché at the United Nations, has worked at Camp David, and he's known for his conciliatory stance in Middle Eastern affairs…"
"Who, that lump of lard!" Spidey interrupted. "I didn't think he cared for anything other than his precious furnishings."
"Politics isn't about caring," said Hudson, amused. "I looked again at Jameson, painful though it is to look at his pointy little head for long… I know his editorial position on the subject was the same as Blomfield's. And I guess that Kysela's CNN viewpoint was pretty much neutral too. Well, that, plus the information you got us, showed that the group was a militant Israeli cult, aimed at eliminating anyone who promoted a peace-keeping line towards the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Included in those papers was a list of targets; as they worked through the list, they would have affected national security at the highest level – not good reading."
Spidey shifted slightly in her web. "You take the credit for that; I would never have figured that out – no matter what their political orientation, killing others is not the answer. I just caught them for you guys."
"Don't sell yourself short, Spider-Man. Credit where credit's due."
"Yeah, well… The night's young and all that, 'The City is of Night; perchance of Death'. I'd better go…" She sprung up to the ceiling and, conscious of the sergeant's eyes on her, skittered across to the window.
"Wait." Hudson commanded, as she was about to climb out, "I'm curious; what is your connection with Parker?"
Spidey grinned under her mask; she hadn't seen that one coming.
"We have an agreement. He takes my photos, I don't beat him up."
"C'mon," Hudson cajoled, "There's got to be more to it than that."
"He pays me not to beat him up? – that do ya?"
Hudson shook his head, knowing he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of Spidey on this one. "Never mind."
"I won't."
Spidey shot out a webline, then turned to Hudson as she was about to take off. "Be seein' ya!"
Hudson raised a hand in farewell, and when Spidey reached the rooftop of the building opposite and looked back before moving on, he was still there, silhouetted against the light, watching.
"Time for one last – gentle – swing," murmured Spidey to herself, aimlessly heading downtown. She paused on the cornice of a building and had a sudden thought as she looked up. "Now there's somewhere I haven't been yet!" she exclaimed, and headed towards her new goal, humming softly. Gaining it, she sprang for a flag pole, then throwing herself upwards from it, leapt up a couple of set-backs, and began the long clamber up the side of the Empire State Building. If some guy can run up the stairs in less than ten minutes, then she ought to be able to do it in less than half that time. Two minutes later, Spidey was perched on one of the decorative 'fins' near the top, enjoying the view. Such a touristy thing to do, though perhaps she may have been better to catch the lift like the real tourists – her crook side was going to be a real pain tomorrow.
She was watching the lights of Manhattan, and thinking it was about time to leave – that wind was getting really frigid now – when her spidey-sense buzzed a low-grade warning; something approaching. She stood up, ready to take action if need be, but sat down again when she saw the flash of red and the reflective white eyes come crawling around the corner.
"Hi," she said, as Spider-Man sat down next to her.
He was silent for a moment as he also took in the view. "You can see why it's so popular," he said eventually, "And it's peaceful up here, away from traffic noise and the crowds." He pointed above and below them, indicating the two public viewing areas. "Though personally, it's still too public for me as a place of contemplation."
Spidey sighed, and ran her hand over the top of her head. "Well, you know, I thought I'd avoid paying admission if I came up here tonight; it's steep as the side of a hen's face," she feebly joked, but she didn't really feel up to the wisecracks.
"Why'd you take off like that? We were worried about you – and then to find you had been and gone when we got back to the apartment… do you know, Mary-Jane actually urged me to come out and look for you?"
"Did she?" she said spiritlessly. Spidey was somewhat surprised, not so much that they thought she was avoiding them by leaving – she didn't think they had fully registered her good-byes at the pub – but that they, and in particular MJ, had become concerned for her.
"She thinks very highly of you – it's not all an act."
Erica blushed in mortification under her mask, and was very grateful for its concealing nature at that moment. Had she been that transparent in her attitude towards MJ?
"I-I went to see Hudson." She skittered around the subject, as much as if physically dodging a pitfall that had suddenly opened up in front of her.
Spider-Man nodded, and thankfully, left it at that.
"I didn't say thank-you, did I? It was a hard ask, but you've handled it so well, I kind of forget you've been in the webs less than two weeks. I've expected so much from you, and you've exceeded those expectations wildly. If it was up to me, I'd throw a ticker-tape parade for you down Fifth Avenue, complete with open-top limos and giant balloons."
"What, no marching girls?"
"Well, maybe one or two. Pipe bands – whaddya say to pipe bands? And as an added bonus, a float with criminals rattling their chains at the crowds."
"Bonza!"
Spider-Man chuckled, then fell silent again. "I was, um, going on patrol. Uh, what are your plans for tonight?"
Spidey almost laughed – he was unsure whether she wanted to patrol with her injury or go home and rest.
"Oh, what the hell – I'm going to patrol too; make a night of it!" She turned her head to face Spider-Man, reflections of reflecting eyes within eyes. "I'll cover a different area though, don't want to confuse the police more, eh?"
Spider-Man stood up, and she followed suit. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. "Enjoy yourself," he said quietly, 'Enjoy your reward."
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