A Note From Lara: This is a sequel to my fic 'Smallville According to Dianne'. It would probably help if you read that first, but it's not necessary to understand this story. Especially since this is in an entirely different fandom and the events of SATD don't really affect it at all except in how they shaped Dianne's character.
When I first came up with the idea for this fic, it was just a fun little Mary-Sue wish fulfillment. Now, however, it's somewhat more than that. I'm planning on rewriting the entire first season, plus some, which means that this is going to be another LONG fic on my list of Things To Write.
Basically, my concept for where this is going is just exploring what would have happened if there had been just ONE more character in the first season... For example, was there another way to save the world? Centers mostly on Peter, Nathan, and Dianne, but the other heroes will be drawn in slowly as the fic progresses.
I'm not entirely sure what pairings I'll have in here, except that I'm very certain that Claire will be with Zack at some point... whatever happened to that kid, anyway? There will also be some Mohinder/OC girl.
--
It was September 4th; two days after I'd been returned to this world. I had to say, it had been very disorienting. For the past nine years of my life, since I had turned sixteen, I had lived in Smallville, Kansas. As in Clark Kent and Lois Lane and superpowers and stuff. No shit.
And now I was here, in New York City. When he had returned me to the universe I'd been born in, Barry Allen had given me five hundred dollars and papers forged for me by my mentor, Batman. I'd used the money to check into a dumpy little motel in Queens. But the money was starting to run out. I needed to find a job and an apartment... fast.
I shook out the classified ads of the third newspaper I'd rifled through, searching for anything that didn't involve making coffee. I'd had more than enough of that working at the Talon. I scanned down the page.
An ad halfway down the page caught my eye. Wanted: Secretary, available six days a week. Must be personable and discreet. $10 an hour. No experience necessary. No experience, yep, that was definitely me. I wrote down the phone number listed, and dialed.
When someone finally answered, I said, "This is Dianne Morton, calling about the, uh, secreterial job?"
"Alright," said the bored voice on the other end of the line, "We'll set you up for an interview time. What's a good time?"
"Any time," I said. "I can come in this afternoon if you want."
"The boss is out right now, but he'll be back tomorrow. I'll put you down for ten a.m." came the reply. I copied down the address the woman gave me, and then the line went dead. I shook my head; if this was an example of the people they had working for them, it was no wonder they needed a new secretary.
I returned to the classifieds, now searching for an apartment with rent I might be able to afford.
--
9:30 a.m., the next day...
I looked at myself in the mirror that hung over the dingy sink, checking carefully for anything I might have missed. My clothing seemed suitably secretary-like, just an ordinary gray pants suit I'd picked up at the Goodwill around the corner. My light brown hair had been forced out of its crazy waves and into a respectable ponytail, and my bright blue eyes were rimmed by mascara-coated lashes.
Finally, I deemed myself ready. I picked up my purse and headed out the door.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside the building I'd been directed to, looking up at the big sign which read Vote Nathan Petrelli For Congress that hung over the door. Huh. A campaign office. Not exactly what I'd been expecting, but I was fairly desperate for cash. I pushed my way through the revolving doors and marching directly up to the hugely pregnant woman seated behind the front desk.
"My name's Dianne Morton. I'm here for a job interview?" I said firmly. Confidence was best, hadn't I heard that somewhere?
"Oh, you're the one who's gonna replace me while I'm on maternity leave?" she said in a tired voice. I read her nameplate; it said "Prissy Gordon". That's a helluva name, I mused. I'd probably go nuts if my name was Prissy.
"I guess so," I said. So, it was just a temp job? Oh well, I'd be out of work anyway when the campaign ended, regardless of whether the job was temporary enough. At least I'd have steady cash for long enough to find a regular job until then.
"Well then, go sit over there. The supervisor is seeing another prospective right now. He should be ready for you in a few minutes," the woman said, pointing at a chair next to the door. I sat where she directed.
When a panicked-looking girl who looked barely nineteen stepped out of one of the cordoned-off offices, she gestured me over and pointed into the office. "Mr. Sully will see you now."
I entered the office, apprehension flooding my gut. I'd never done an actual job interview before. I'd worked at the Talon for almost nine years, but they'd needed someone to run their latte machine pretty badly, and I'd been hired on the spot. Now, there was a chance I wouldn't get the job, and it made me slightly nervous.
The man sitting on the other side of the desk gestured for me to sit down again, and as I did, I studied him. He was a heavyset man, completely bald, with an angry look to his eyes, and I took an immediate dislike to him. Oh well. Didn't matter. I needed money. Everybody had to work with people they didn't like, right?
"Do you have any qualifications?" Sully asked.
"I have a high school diploma," I said. "And I'm a very quick learner. I worked in a coffee shop for several years, so I have plenty of customer service experience--"
"Yes, yes," he said, interrupting me. "That's all very good. You understand that this is just a temporary position, yes?" I nodded.
"Alright. We'll call you back. Leave your name and number with Ms. Gordon and we'll get back to you," he said, already turning away from me. I was disappointed. I had wanted a chance to prove myself, to prove that I really was good enough, but here he was just rifling through my papers and completely ignoring me.
I left the cubicle, gave the pregnant secretary the pertinent information, and went back to the hotel to wait for a call.
--
It was September 6th, four days after I returned to this universe, before the phone finally rang. I was seriously low on money, with only enough cash for one more night at the hotel. I'll admit, I was getting pretty worried. My mind, as will happen to anyone during periods of intense boredom and inactivity, had begun coming up with all sorts of improbably scenarios.
I listened politely while Ms. Gordon told me that I had, in fact, gotten the job. The second the line went dead, I jumped up off the bed and let out a whoop of ecstasy. I was saved! I wasn't going to have to become a stripper in order to get by!
Once the success high had worn off, I flipped back through the classifieds, trying to find the little box I had circled just the day before. I located it quickly: Wanted: Female roommate for modest, two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Rent is $250 a month. No referrals needed. No pets! I wrote down the address at the bottom of the ad, and set out to see if the space was still free.
--
Twenty minutes later...
I glanced around the hallway before I knocked. Dim halogen bulbs illuminated white walls and dingy green trim along the floorboards. The heavy wooden door hanging before me was scratched and depressing-looking. Whatever. Even if the building sucked, I really needed this apartment. I'd take anything I could get right now.
After a moments survey, I finally rapped sharply on the door. "Just a minute!" came a woman's voice. I heard running footsteps, and then the door opened.
The girl standing on the other side appeared to be just a few years younger than myself- 23 or so. She was very beautiful, with dangerously straight strawberry blonde hair and dark brown eyes; I was also startled to find that she was nearly a foot shorter than me. But then again, at five foot ten, I was used to it.
"Um, can I help you?" she asked, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
"I came to ask about the apartment," I said. "There was an ad in the Times..."
The blonde's face cleared immediately. "Oh, yeah. I work in a coffee shop, I could barely afford the rent as it was and then my landlord upped it to $250 and I just didn't know what to do, so..." She extended her hand. "I'm Tanya Blackwood."
"Dianne Morton," I replied, shaking the proffered hand.
"So, I guess you'll want to see the apartment?" Tanya asked tentatively. I nodded. "Well then, come on in. It's kind of a mess right now, but..." I followed her as she stepped back inside.
The first thing that struck me was... yellow. The kitchen, the first room I found myself in, was yellow everywhere. The walls were painted a bright sunshine yellow, and the drapes that framed the windows were a pale yellow with white polka dots. The kitchen table and chairs were a deep orangey-yellow, and even the cabinets were made of a pale ash wood that seemed to take on the same golden hue as everything else in the room.
"Wow, it's really... bright. And... um... airy," I stuttered, trying to find a way to comment on the room without seeming offensive. I mean, there's nothing wrong with yellow, but... wow.
Tanya grinned. "You mean it's a little much, right?" I nodded, grinning wryly. "Yeah," she said. "I didn't realize how bright the colors would be when I bought the paint. Those paint chips really don't do it justice, do they? Let's get out of the kitchen, it really is kind of too much."
She led me through the rest of the apartment, which thankfully was far less vibrant, in pale shades of lavendar and green. The whole apartment, though small and certainly not anything fancy, gave off an air of openness and peace.
Tanya chattered throughout the tour, giving me details on herself (she played the flute and hated electronics), her job (she disliked the coffee industry as much as I did), her crazy ex-boyfriend (who, it seemed, didn't know when to let go), and some small tidbits on the apartment itself (kitchen sink was spastic, pigeons tended to perch outside the kitchen window). She seemed overall a very cheery person, which I suppose I should have guessed when I first saw the kitchen.
She offered to make coffee (despite our mutual reservations in that area) when we arrived back in the kitchen. I attempted to politely decline, but she insisted. As she got into an argument with the bag of filters, she turned back over her shoulder and asked, "So, what do you think?"
"I think I like the apartment and I'd like to move in," I said. "Is there, like, any kind of paperwork we have to file with the landlord?"
Tanya shook her head, still struggling with the filters. "I'll just let him know I've found a roommate. When do you want to move in?"
I shrugged. "I can move in tomorrow sometime, if that's okay. Right now, I'm stuck in a crappy hotel in Queens and it's seriously depressing."
"Let me guess," Tanya said, having finally succeeded in starting the coffee. "You were living with your boyfriend, had a terrible breakup?"
"Nope. Actually, I just moved to the city--" More or less. "--and I'm trying to, you know, start a new life." Tanya looked genuinely interested, so I continued. "I grew up in Chicago, so I'm used to the city. But my parents died when I was a little kid, so I was always stuck in bad foster homes. As soon as I scraped together enough money for the bus fare and some extra to start out, I moved to New York, just so I'd never have to risk running into any of them again." Tanya grimaced and nodded in sympathy. "So now I'm working as a temp secretary for Nathan Petrelli's campaign."
Tanya's brown eyes widened. "Nathan Petrelli? You know him?" she gasped.
I shook my head. "I just started working there, so no. I'll probably see him at some point, but so have plenty of other people."
Tanya took a moment to mull that statement over, and apparently decided it had some merit. "I guess that makes sense. So, what time do you want to move in?" she asked.
"Well," I said slowly. "I'm working from ten until five tomorrow, so I could come up at six o'clock or something. I don't really have all that much to unpack. Just a couple of suitcases. I left pretty much all my stuff behind when I moved here." Tanya nodded.
"Okay. Well then, see you tomorrow," she said. I smiled at her, and left to go pack up what few possessions I had brought back to this world with me.
--
Sorry for the plotless first chapter. I promise you, next chapter I'll introduce a couple of the original (as in non-OC) heroes. Updates will probably be slow, but I hope what I write makes it worth it. And I should also warn you that it's been about ten years since I've been to NYC, so a lot of the locations are just going to be pulled out of the air, with the hope that they're not entirely inaccurate.