A/N: Sorry for the wait for the epilogue - I wrote it, and then my computer turned it into gibberish and I had to re-write the whole thing again from memory (tricky thing, memory…), grrr.

Appreciative Reader & ShadowShock: Thanks for the reviews! Thanks for all your comments and for sticking with my story! I hope the ending doesn't disappoint :)

Daveykins: Hmmm, a), b), or c)… I think I'll go with d), something different (but definitely not a), I'm not a DC kinda person :D )

I'll work slowly on fixing bits in the story I'm not entirely happy with myself, so it will periodically be updated.

This is it; The End, the finale, the cessation of care… heh :-)

Till next time, ka kite ano and Cheers!

Apteryx

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Epilogue

The cold concrete felt rough and gritty against her face and outstretched hands. Erica couldn't tell which way up she was – was she climbing a wall, or? She lifted up her aching, whirling head and opened her eyes. Immediately, the world settled and she found herself lying on the floor of her garage, her handbag by her side, familiar objects about her, and her car keys further off where she must have flung them when she fell the first time. With a groan, Erica got her hands beneath her and gingerly sat up.

It had worked; the dimensional field generator had worked, and she was back home again.

The garage doors were still wide open, in full view of the street; Erica wondered about this as she stood and walked shakily out and up the steps to her house, the wind in her face and only half seeing the glimpse of glittery sea in the distance. Why hadn't anyone noticed anything odd? The fact that both her car and her keys had still been there started her thinking – had any time at all passed here since she had gone?

Inside, her computer told her the answer: no.

That wasn't so strange; she supposed if dimensions could be travelled, well, what was time except another type of dimension? But she really didn't feel like picking up the threads of her old life just yet, going to breakfast with her friend Liz, as she had been about to what seemed like two weeks ago to her. Erica leaned back, tired, in her chair and picked up the phone, dialled Liz's cell phone, intending to cancel. There was no answer. Liz was probably already sitting at a table at Cafe Astorio's already, waiting for her.

Erica sighed; her head had cleared, but her ribs ached abominably – were the sore ribs really from fights? Or from her fall in the garage? Confused, Erica opened up her handbag. There, she found proof that it hadn't been all a hallucination; it had been real. In relief, she pulled out a small box, placing it on the table next to her computer. She put the necklace from the box around her neck, smiling at the memory, then sighing again, got up, took her hand bag and went out of the house once more down to the garage. She had decided to go to breakfast anyway – or lunch… at least she could adjust to the time difference without the accompanying jet lag – to start taking control of her life again, she thought, as she backed the car out.

Town was busy. Erica eventually found a car park, then walked briskly to the café, through the people sitting in the sun in Midland Park.

"Hi, I hope I'm not too late," she said, slipping into a chair at the table where Liz sat.

"Don't make a habit of it," Liz joked. Erica smiled back – she was hardly ever late.

Breakfast was not a success. Thoughts and memories intruded in Erica's mind with disturbing clarity – meeting face to face with Dealy; Spidey moving through the dark streets of the development; Spidey fighting the Untongued in the warehouse.

"…calling Erica. I repeat: Earth calling Erica."

"What?"

She'd done it again; segued off into a daydream. "I'm sorry," she apologised, "I haven't had enough sleep lately…"

"Yes, you do look rather worn out. Well, at least you've eaten. I'll catch up with you later sometime, when you're more awake. See ya!" Liz gathered up her belongings and left Erica still sitting at the table, staring into her tea cup.

This was no good. Erica kept having the odd feeling her mind was trying to tell her something…

Out in the sun, she decided a walk around the waterfront might shake her out of her preoccupation; a good blast of the wind to clear out the cobwebs.

After a good long walk, and feeling much better and more with it, Erica was heading back to the car, parked down by the old sheds which were going to be converted into apartments. She'd had a deep think about things, and had decided that she was going to change careers again, go back to crewing while she was still young and able enough. Librarianship was something she could catch again once she was no longer able to sail, but she wished to have a more active job now.

Passing between the brick side of the shed, and a pile of pre-cast concrete slabs, Erica had a sudden notion – did her spider-powers disappear when she came back home? Taking a quick glance around, she leapt for the top of the slabs; nothing. Climbing the brick wall was a failed effort as well. Erica smiled wryly to herself, half embarrassed at even attempting the try. Back to normal it was.

Changing her career acted as a catalyst for change in other areas of her life, it seemed. Over the next few months, Erica couldn't afford to keep up mortgage payments at the same level with her new job, to her regret, so she rented out her house and moved into a friend's sleep-out in Strathmore. She sold her car, and went back to relying on public transport, taking the trolley buses into town whenever she was in port. Her weeks off, she spent maintaining her fitness tramping the back-country ranges, and studying through the Open Polytech.

Her relationship with her mother went from occasional casual contact to non-existent; her Mum had gained a kooky new partner who claimed that Erica's aura meant that anyone associating with her would be lead into a life of danger, and that death hovered about her. Erica decided to wait until her Mum came to her senses again and kicked the bloke out.

In all, she was content. Even without spider-powers, she had gained new confidence and skill handling the rigging when sailing. She enjoyed the contact with enthusiastic teenagers learning the ropes of both ship and adulthood. She revelled in the quiet solitude of the bush, pleased to hear bird life beginning to make a comeback after the ravages of possums and rats. She appreciated the time spent learning, studying, of all things, journalism, privately grinning to think of Robbie's comments.

Except for one thing: the flashbacks.

Like those she had had when having breakfast with Liz when she first arrived back. She had thought that over time, the flashbacks would fade, become memories, like remembering a good movie she'd seen, or a book she'd read. But no, they had stayed as strong as then.

In fact if anything, they were becoming more insistent, intrusive. She'd been lucky that they hadn't affected her day-to-day functioning, or safety - especially when she'd had one up on the top-gallant – it had been one of Spidey swinging across to Greenwich, and to her astonishment, when she 'woke up' she discovered that she had managed to belay the line she'd been working on, and reach the deck without knowing how, but given the amazed looks and comments she got from those who witnessed it, it must have been somewhat spectacular.

She considered paying a visit to a psychologist, and talking to them about the flashbacks, suspecting they were possibly similar to those experienced by victims of trauma, but what would that achieve, besides making the psychologist wealthier? She might well end up being diagnosed with a condition she knew she didn't have, to her detriment.

Over time she also became more convinced that the flashbacks were including memories that weren't hers; did she really help that particular blonde woman? Did she really have a run in with the Shocker on Fifth Avenue? Was her comic book reading coming back to haunt her?

What was it her subconscious was trying to tell her?

Sitting hunched over against the cold wind on one of the wooden sculptures on the City to Sea bridge, Erica flicked through the pages of Peter's notebook, reading, searching. She unconsciously fingered the spider necklace as she did so. Time to stop moping around like a wet hen; what was the cause of these episodic flashbacks? When she thought that her life would be changed by her experiences, she hadn't counted on quite this effect. Evidently the dimensional field generator hadn't worked as expected. What was it that Reed said again? '…as long as you have everything you came here with, I see no problem in getting you back…' Well she got back OK, but…

She flipped absently through the book once more, as she concentrated, trying to remember whether she had left anything behind - perhaps at the hotel - when another episode intruded.

Pausing on the sidewalk, pulling her wallet from her handbag and dropping a dollar into Peter's open palm, watching it glint in his hand, watching his bemused expression, the hand closing and putting the coin into his trouser pocket…

The dollar coin… Cripes, that was some sensitive dimensional field generator thingummyjig to get its tits in a tangle over a dollar! However, it did mean there was still a possible connection between this dimension and Spider-Man's. It also meant she was not going to forget her time there any time soon.

Erica hopped down from her perch, and with a smile tucked the notebook back in her bag.

Back to normal it was not, and that was fine with her.

The End.

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