Anna called just as Peter was about to leave for his nightly patrol. Still slightly annoyed at the phone for the incident that morning, the young man picked it up with slightly more force than was necessary. Cursing at the dents he had made in the plastic, Peter put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi Peter! It's Anna again. Are you awake this time?"

He grunted. He was too tired to even attempt politeness.

"That sounds like a 'no'. I'll be quick then."

Peter seriously doubted that.

"Okay. I was thinking over our situation here, or rather, your situation, and I realized that if you just copyrighted your story, and then got an agent to handle all the technical stuff, it would be so much easier than fooling around with the New York Times people."

"Why would it be easier?"

"Well, for one thing, a single person would be easier to deal with than an entire company. Another thing is that that person wouldn't expect as big a cut of the profits as an organization as huge as the New York Times would. Also, if you just sell the copyrights off, you'll lose all control, which is a big no – no. You could just ask for a percentage of the profits, but unless it's the gross profit, that could be dangerous… "

Peter was getting a headache. How ironic it was that he could negotiate his way through complex quantum physics equations, but couldn't understand a word of what was coming out of Anna's mouth. (A/N: I'm having the same trouble here! I have no idea what the heck I'm talking about! Thank you so much, Locathah, for helping me out a lot, but let's face it. I'm never going to become a lawyer.)

"Whatever. Sounds great. Where would I find said agent?"

"Well, I know a few people who are pretty capable. Reid Denis over at Wilton's is good, but he wouldn't come cheap. And then there's always me."

"You?" Peter asked incredulously.

"I took some courses on this stuff in college!" she said, sounding defensive. "And besides, you already know me, so there wouldn't be that whole awkward 'getting acquainted' thing."

Peter massaged his forehead with his fingers. This whole thing was getting way out of hand. Why couldn't he just go back to doing what he'd always done? Why did they have to drag all this legal stuff into it? And why was Anna so bent on helping him?

"Why should I trust you? What's in it for you?"

He realized that that wasn't the most tactful way to put it, and any normal person would have been offended. Anna didn't seem to realize this however, and she plowed right ahead in her normal insufferable fashion.

"Well, for one thing, I've kind of been on the lookout for a job ever since His Crankyness, Mr. Jonah Jameson kicked me out of his office. I'm not going to ask for much, just enough money to pay rent and get food. Maybe a little extra here and there to buy some fruitcakes to replace the ones Jameson never sent… And as for the whole trusting thing, you have more reason to trust me than some random guy from an up city law firm."

Peter had to admit that she had a point. Handing all this crap over to Anna to deal with would certainly make his life a lot easier. And she had never given him a reason not to trust her. So it was either this… or dealing with it on his own.

"All right. You've got yourself a deal."

"Great! I'll just write up some papers and bring them around for you to sign."

"Okay. Bye."

He hung up and swung away into the city, relieved to finally be doing something he actually understood.

Sitting across from Spiderman, I am struck by how young and innocent he looks. He seems like the kind of boy who would break if you hit him. But the newly fading bruises on his face prove me wrong.

Peter Parker has had it rough. His parents were murdered on the streets when he was only five. The man who did it was never found. He lived with his aunt and uncle through high school. And at the end of his senior year, when Peter was only seventeen, his life changed forever.

Harry threw the newspaper across the room. What was this crap? Why were they showing a murderer any sympathy? Didn't they know what this freak had done to his father?

Of course, the press didn't know that Norman Osborn had been the Green Goblin. That was one thing Harry had to thank Peter for, however begrudgingly. His former best friend had not revealed that truth.

Harry's vendetta against Peter was not going very well. He had forgotten just how few people Peter had left to love. What was the use of a hovercraft and pumpkin bombs if there was no one around worth terrorizing? Harry realized that he would just have to sit and be patient. Peter couldn'tstay friendless forever.

And in the meantime, Harry had some green armor to polish.

A/N: Please don't kill me for the horrifically long wait, or for the shortness of this chapter! Writer's block is a –insert word for female dog here-. I hope this chapter is okay; needless to say, I had some trouble with it. Again, sorry for the delay.

Thanks so much to all my reviewers: EstelKid, deppfreak, Owl, Goth Child of Zyon, Sheba:p, Axmodefred, Kevageit, hedi, Delia Ra'Nar, ASuperHeroAtHeart, anonymous, RevolutionChick, ilovethestorys, Icy Waters, Rsegovia, jjonahjameson, Locathah, and htbthomas.

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