A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Ant-Man, and Spiderman: Homecoming.

As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.

Note: Not only has my muse been a fickle little scamp, my family has been experiencing a great deal of emotional turmoil that may not get better any time soon. We're into year two of the Year From Hell. Stay tuned for further developments.

Namaste,

Sunny

"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."

― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Winter Soldier

And You Will Know Me Still

Chapter 55

Vesuvius Italian Restaurant

Brooklyn, New York

Dinner was fabulous, some of the best Italian Maria had tasted. Coffee and dessert shared with Steve afterwards put her close to nirvana. Dancing was enjoyable, as always. The drive down to the pier even more so. In fact, the entire evening had been filled with romance, and wonder, and just a little confusion. It wasn't her birthday, or Steve's, and it wasn't an anniversary. The date simply wasn't anything special. Just another set of numbers on the calendar marking their time on earth.

They talked about finding a place together, but couldn't come to an agreement on when. Steve wanted to live in Brooklyn and Maria was okay with almost anywhere that wasn't Chicago. The brownstone with the questionable provenance was in the right area. The price was right too, as long as they combined their salaries. Or it would have been, if it hadn't been sold. Annoying, but not too much so because Steve wanted to wait a while longer before they formally shared a residence. Maria wanted it to happen sooner rather than some unknown later date, causing ruffled feathers on both sides. Maybe that was the reason for the fancy dinner. Making up.

Steve parked the car, and they sat there staring at the rain that started falling just as they left the restaurant. He gripped the steering wheel, huffing in frustration.

Maria took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "It's not a big deal. We can come another time."

He inhaled deeply, and let it out. "It is a big deal. All my plans just went to hell."

"Best laid plans and all that. Let's just go back to the motel, Steve. It'll still be here tomorrow."

He turned to look at her, his eyes roaming over her features. Then he shook his head. "No. It has to be tonight. I promised your dad." Steve unbuckled his seatbelt, and removed his suit jacket and tie, tossing both in the back seat. His shoes followed, as did his socks. He rolled up his pants legs, turning an ironic smile on her. "It's actually kind of fitting."

Before Maria could say another word, Steve opened the door and jumped out, slamming it behind him. A moment later, he opened her door, and held out his hand. "Come with me."

She opened her mouth to refuse then changed her mind at the look on his face. Her seatbelt came off, and so did her heels. She stepped out of the car, and Steve immediately picked her up. Her arms went around his neck, and she turned her face into his shoulder to avoid the rain. "What's going on, Steve?"

"You'll see." Steve picked his way through the grass to the boardwalk, and put her down. Taking her hand, he urged her to run with him to the end of the pier. They took refuge under the shelter near where they'd been the first time they'd come here. "Reminds me of our first dance."

Maria smiled in remembrance. "More importantly, I got a foot rub out of it."

"That was the night I realized I loved you." There was a bench, and Steve invited her to sit, so she did. He reached into his pocket and took out a small box. "While we were in Chicago, I had a long talk with Bob."

"Oh?" She was immediately suspicious.

Steve paced as much as he could under the shelter. "The night you ran off during the snow storm after you and Bob argued, he gave me hell for not going after you. I told him a few home truths about his daughter, about your ability to take care of yourself, and how you saved my life, and those of millions of innocent people. He, uh, was quite impressed."

"You must've done a good job. He's not easily dazzled by anyone's accomplishments outside of his own. You did come after me eventually." Maria was patient for the next item on the list of things he'd talked to her dad about, and was rewarded.

Steve shoved his hands into his pockets. "During our talk, I asked him an important question, and he agreed, or we wouldn't be here. Um, or you'd give him hell for saying no. Which, is up in the air." His hands came out of his pockets, the right one holding a black velvet ring box. He got down on one knee, opened the box, and turned it so she could see the simple, yet elegant diamond with two smaller ones on either side atop a smooth circle of yellow gold. "I asked for your hand in marriage." The ring looked small held between his thumb and forefinger, and she knew it would fit perfectly. "I told you I was saving the big speech for later. Then I realized that it all came down to three sentences." Stunned, Maria didn't resist when he gently lifted her left hand from where it rested on her thigh. "I love you, Maria. I can't be happy without you by my side. Will you do me the great honor of marrying me?"

Her eyes wide, Maria curled her free hand into a ball, the nails digging into the material of her dress covering her thigh, wrinkling the material. She opened her mouth, shut it again, and finally took a breath. "Steve…"

The Next Morning

Yawning and stretching, Sam padded into the bathroom to begin his morning ritual. With his bladder and morning breath taken care of and a glass of cold water in him to combat dehydration, he got down on the floor for push-ups and crunches then on his feet for jumping jacks. He was nearing the end of his second set when there was a knock at the door. Using a hand towel to wipe his face, he checked the peephole before letting Steve in. Grabbing another bottle of water from the pack on the table, he took a drink and sat on the end of the bed. "So, how was dinner?" He peered closer. "And why do you look like your dog ran away?"

Steve sat at the table, leaned back, and rest his right ankle on the left knee while pushing at a half-empty bag of chips and staring at the toe of his sneaker. "The food was great. So was the wine and dessert we shared." His friend's shoulders twitched in a sad version of a shrug. "Afterward, we went to the pier where I asked Maria to marry me."

Now the slamming of the car doors and the door to Steve's room made sense. "Not a surprise."

Rubbing both hands down his face, Steve exhaled loudly. "Had it all planned out. Nice dinner. Dancing. Moonlight stroll on the pier. Then, I got down on one knee…"

"Right. 'Cause that's how Captain America rolls." It wasn't appropriate, but Sam had to get at least one smartass comment in before Steve dropped the bomb.

The glare Steve shot him said, "Shut the **** up and let me tell the story, asshole." Raising his hands in surrender, Sam motioned for him to continue.

"It's just… she loves me, Sam," he said with conviction. "I know she does."

"But she said no."

Steve shot to his feet, pacing over to the bathroom, made an about face, and over to the door. "Maria is the first woman I've been attracted to since Peggy. She's everything I've ever hoped for in the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."

Sam shifted on the bed, his eyes following Steve as he went back to pacing. "So, she said no."

Steve continued as if Sam hadn't spoken. "Smart, has a strong sense of ethics, she's funny, sweet, fierce," he kept his eyes averted, "sexy, but doesn't flaunt it like so many women do these days…"

"And she said no."

On his next lap, Steve stopped in front of the mirror, their eyes meeting in the reflection. He hung his head, shaking it the way he did when the modern world didn't make sense to his forties sensibilities. "She didn't just say no, Sam. She said hell no!" Frustrated, he swung around and leaned his hips against the vanity, crossing his arms and ankles. "What is it with the women of this century? Don't they want to get married and have kids?"

"Sorry to say this, buddy, but women want more from life than marriage, children, cleaning, and tending to the needs of the man of the house. They don't really need us for children anymore, unless they want the experience of being pregnant and giving birth. There's adoption, IVF… Um, in vitro fertilization using an anonymous donor from a sperm bank. There's surrogacy too. That's where you pay someone to have a baby for you. Or they go another route and get cats and dogs. They own their own homes in the suburbs with the proverbial white picket fence, run corporations, own their own businesses. Or like Hill, are second in command of an international espionage, special law enforcement, and counter-terrorism agency. Well, she was until you, Nat, and I put her out of work. That could be part of it."

Steve uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets. "We had one hell of a fight on the way back to the motel and she decided to leave. While she was in the bathroom, I put the ring box in her bag." He looked up and saw Sam's expression that told him he was an idiot. "Just in case she changes her mind."

Sam got up and went to give Steve's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "You shoulda just taken it back. Not getting a paycheck anymore, remember?"

That finally teased a smile out of his friend. "Before I went into the ice, I changed my will giving Howard Stark power of attorney if anything should happen to me. He collected my pay and invested it. Add all the back pay I got from the government and the cost of the ring barely made a dent."

"Dude! Seriously? What're we talkin' here? A few hundred thousand? More?" When Steve didn't respond except with a sly grin, Sam couldn't go on.

"A lot more." Steve slapped him on the chest. "Get changed while I check out and we'll go get breakfast. I'm buying."

The Barton Farm

Columbia, Washington

A quick call to Hill got Natasha a cake-walk assignment in Newark, of all places. She understood that SHIELD needed a way to fund their operation until they could rebuild their reputation, but seriously? Newark? Why couldn't it have been somewhere at least semi-interesting like Phoenix or overseas? Someplace where she could go shopping once the op wrapped?

Of course, now, she was more circumspect in the jobs she took. As a matter of principle, she would turn down certain individuals, groups, corporation, or government agencies. That left testing security, committing industrial espionage, and a few others that aren't exactly kosher, but needed to be done. Most of which were near the bottom of her preferred list, but it kept her busy so she wouldn't think about Bucky, or where he might be, or if he missed her as much as she missed him, no matter what she told Clint and Laura.

Clint drove her to the airport so she could get back to the city for a quick briefing on the details of the op. After being vetted by the contact, she was provided with everything necessary for an unimpeachable alias. Apartment, documents, work history, a boring car, even photos of a cat on which she supposedly doted. For this op, she chose brown hair instead of her natural red, glasses, and conservative dress that guaranteed she would pass unnoticed by most of the male employees, and wouldn't be perceived as a threat by the women. The department she'd chosen gave her access to most areas of the building, excluding the very department she was tasked with testing: security, which made sense. If a low-level mailroom employee could gain access, then someone with harmful intent could do considerable damage, not only to their client information, but to their reputation within the industry.

Scanning her badge at the employee entrance, Natasha made her way to the office of the manager, taking a moment to get a reading on the man. He was in his forties, overweight, and had been in this same position for at least a decade to go by the amount of personal belongings strewn around the room.

She knocked, and he looked away from his computer just long enough to motion her in. "You must be the new girl, uh…"

"Charlotte Newberry." They shook hands with the man only giving her a cursory glance.

"David Saxon. I'm the manager. Welcome to the HavenCorp mail room, such as it is. This day and age, most people use the Internet to communicate long distance, yet some things still need to be sent old-school. It's our job to get the mail and packages to the correct recipient."

Keeping in mind her alter ego's personality, she nodded demurely. "Yes, sir."

Saxon shut down the computer and heaved himself out of the chair. Walking as if he were much older, he gestured for her to follow.

In the next room, a young man in his early twenties was sorting the mail with a bored expression. The packages were on a table waiting their turn. "I'm putting you with Greg. He'll show you the ropes."

Without bothering to introduce them, Saxon left Natasha and Greg alone.

Natasha waited until Greg had finished his sorting to speak. "I'm Charlotte Newb…"

Greg huffed. "Yeah, yeah. We don't have to be friends to work together. I'm only in this job for another year and a half."

"What happens in a year and a half?" She knew, but wanted Greg to think she wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"I graduate with an MBA in business and marketing, entitling me to a sweet annual salary and all the perks to go with it. My goal is to be a senior VP within five years. Six at the most. On the board before I'm forty, and down the road, CEO." He finally faced her showing watery brown eyes, glasses, an enormous nose, and a predatory glint that had nothing to do with sexual attraction. "You'll be the one delivering. Keep talk to a minimum, don't make eye contact, and always get a signature. Just hand them the goods and the tablet."

Playing her part to the hilt, Natasha sniffed, adjusted her glasses and meekly replied, "Yes, sir."

Greg shoved stacks of mail secured with rubber bands into her arms. "Sort those according to floor in that basket over there. We'll go together the first time, so take notes if you have to, because it's all yours going forward." He passed her a tablet. "Some offices only accept packages at certain times. Memorize the list."

Her goal was to identify gaps in their physical and cyber security, and any other issues she deemed worthy of notice. She'd been provided with very little details of the layout of the building or their current security measures so that her incursion would be genuine, and not based on information obtained beforehand. Not her most difficult job, but it kept her busy so she didn't think about other things.

Greg headed for the freight elevator, obviously expecting her to push the cart. "You're kind of old to be working the mail room. What are you? Thirty-four, thirty-five?"

"Twenty-nine," she stated with more than a trace of irritation, "and recently laid-off. This was the only company that would even schedule an interview."

"You're only twenty-nine? Huh." The elevator came to a stop. "Always start at the top and work your way down."

The boy had a lot to learn about how to talk to people he considered his inferiors. She'd just have to show him the error of his ways. Another way to go would be to arrange it so that he never made it out of the mail room. But that would be vindictive and cruel, and certainly no more than he deserved. From the quality of his clothing, Greg had been brought up in a wealthy family, and probably felt entitled. It was time someone taught him that society didn't owe him a damn thing just because he had money. It was more than likely he took this job because it didn't conflict with a preferred activity, like club-hopping.

What the hell. I'll have Hill push a few buttons. Get the ball rolling. Greg here won't be able to get corporate position at even a fast food franchise when Hill was done. A girl has to have her fun, after all.

The rest of what Greg said went in one ear and out the other as they reached the desk of the CEO's executive assistant, a middle-aged woman with thick glasses and a pinched expression as if she were constantly sucking on a lemon. Natasha handed her the mail and the tablet. The woman signed, her attitude saying she had better things to do and didn't much like being interrupted. Not a word passed between them during the transaction, not even introductions.

By the end of the day, Natasha hadn't spoken to anyone but Greg, Saxon, and the lady at the lunch counter. At least she was friendly. The one thing that stood out was that morale in HavenCorp was so low as to be immeasurable. Most of the staff walked around with their heads down looking at their phones or tablets, barely managing not to run into each other. And when a collision did happen, each blamed the other.

Such was Natasha's first day at HavenCorp. "Man, they have a lot to learn. Maybe it's time someone taught them a lesson or two."

The Nook and Nosh

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

That Same Day

Dooney shut down his laptop, exhaling loudly, glad that the last of the interviews had been done. Over the next week, he and Cam would go over their notes and the resumes, and make their choices. Background checks and drug testing would follow, further shortening the list. Training would commence on the following Monday. The partners were planning a test run for friends and family ten days before the formal reopening. That way, they still had time to tweak the menu and service.

He slid the laptop and his handwritten notes into a padded case and zipped it up. After sitting for hours, asking the same questions over and over, all he wanted to do was go home, eat dinner, and play his video games for a couple of hours before going to bed. Kiba had drawn the night shift, resigning him to spending his evenings and nights alone.

Cam met him at the unfinished doorway that had been knocked out between their shops holding a cardboard cup, which she pressed into his hand. "Go get some rest, Duane. I'll take care of…"

She trailed off, her attention drawn to something out the front window. Dooney turned to look, seeing a man leaning against Stella's driver's door. A scowl came over his features that turned into a strained smile when he faced Cam again, holding up the cup. "Could I get another of these, please? Black, no sugar."

"Coming right up." She was back in seconds. "Who is he? Is he going to cause trouble? Want me to call the sheriff?"

Dooney chuckled as he accepted the second cup. He'd lied to his new partner about his former business, or she wouldn't have asked. "He's my brother-in-law and definitely a trouble-maker, Cam. He would also make Sioux Falls' finest look like the Keystone Cops. Do yourself a favor and forget you saw him. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow mornin'."

With the laptop case tucked under one arm, Dooney juggled it, and the coffee cups, opening the door by pushing with his back. Clint saw him and moved away from the Hummer, accepting one of the cups. He sipped the coffee, watching as Dooney opened the driver's door and laid the case on the passenger's seat, saying over his shoulder, "Why are you here?"

"That phone call." They moved over to the shade of a tall tree. "Did you really think I'd just let it pass?"

"Guess not." Dooney sipped from his cup, gathering his thoughts. "I'm just surprised it took you this long to get here."

Clint waved the hand holding the cup. "I was in the neighborhood. What's going on?"

Should he lie? Fake a weird yet non-life-threatening symptom? He glanced sideways at Clint. The truth it is. "Let's take a walk."

"Whatever's wrong, you can trust me."

One side of Dooney's mouth curved upward. "I know. That's why I let you marry my sister."

He led Clint into a small park, through a grove of trees to an isolated table on a concrete slab. A rusty grill filled with decaying leaves showed that it hadn't been used for some time. They shouldn't be disturbed. He set his cup on the table and stepped back.

"So, here's the straight skinny. Lately, I've been wonderin' about what those doctors did to me."

Clint sat on the table with his feet on the bench, hands clasped between his knees. "Such as…"

"What sorta side effects can I expect? Will I grow an eye in the middle of my forehead? A third arm? What about havin' kids? Will what they did cause birth defects? Will they become mutants? Will I? Should I just have a vasectomy and adopt, or give up that dream altogether?"

His friend and brother-in-law took time to consider the question while sipping coffee. He set the cup aside and stood. "Gonna show you something, but you gotta keep it to yourself."

Clint lifted the right side of his shirt showing a patch of lightly tanned skin over his ribs. There were a few hairs and no blemishes aside from a few freckles that were hardly noticeable. "Touch it."

Dooney was confused at the odd request but did it anyway. "Feels like skin. So what?"

"On my last mission with the Avengers, the same week that Ultron destroyed Sokovia, I got shot."

A flash of irritation went through him, but before he made a smartass remark, he remembered the day Clint had kept him from killing himself. "You could tell a guy. What'd Laura say?"

Clint snorted. "Says she can tell the difference." He rubbed his hands together. "Why the sudden increased interest? Something weird happen?"

At a loss to understand his meaning, Dooney looked at his brother-in-law like he was nuts. "Weird like…"

"Do you have super strength? Do cuts heal overnight? Can you control the weather, shapeshift, run really fast, turn invisible, breathe under water, manipulate time, have psionics."

Still confused, he asked, "Psi-what?"

"Read minds, make fireballs, move things with your mind, fly, teleport?"

Taken aback, Dooney stared at Clint for a long moment, wondering if his sister's husband had finally gone around the bend. "None of it. Flying or teleporting would be cool though. And even if I could read minds, I wouldn't wanna read yours."

As if that were the answer he was looking for, Clint nodded. "Banner's out of the picture for now, but I can take you to Cho, if you really need answers."

"If I say no, you won't go behind my back, and Cho shows up on my doorstep?"

Clint stood, heading back the way they came. "Of course not. Why would I?"

Dooney took out his knife, aimed, and threw it at a tree twenty feet away, unsure how to express his feelings about the scientist. "That Dr. Cho, she's a little…"

"Her bedside manner sucks, is what you're saying. You haven't developed superpowers, so I wouldn't worry about it." Clint retrieved the knife and threw it at the same tree. It stuck next to the notch Dooney had made. "I haven't mentioned this little side trip to Laura yet." He went to get the knife and handed it back. "Don't forget, you still have the skinny on your dad. I haven't said anything about that either. That's your job."

Dooney rolled his eyes as they headed for the Hummer. "You just had to go there, didn't you?"

Grinning, Clint spread his hands out to the side. "I'm your brother by marriage. One of the ten commandments of being a bro states, 'Thou shalt annoy thy siblings as much as possible'."

A click verified that the doors were unlocked. Dooney got in and Stella's engine roared to life. He slipped on a pair of Oakley sunglasses to combat the sun's glare. "Yeah, but you do it like it's all ten commandments." Clint muttered two words not normally used in polite company, and Dooney pretended to be offended. "Say that again, and I'll tell Natasha what happened at your bachelor party."

To Dooney's surprise, Clint laughed. "If you knew what really went down in Budapest, you wouldn't even try that."

For an answer, Dooney flipped him off, buzzed the window up, shifted into gear, and drove toward home.

As amusing as the conversation with Clint was, Dooney still had misgivings about Cho and Banner and the methods they used to cure him. What if the disease recurred somewhere down the line, or he developed something truly frightening, like Clint's suggestions? If he did come down with these psionics, would he be expected to become an Avenger? The thought was not appealing. He wanted to make a life with Kiba, run the café, and live like a normal person. He didn't want to save the whole world, just his little corner of it. Telling Kiba eased his conscience, but didn't silence it completely. In the back of his mind lurked the fear that someday it would all come back to haunt them. Until then, he'd live one day at a time with the woman he loved.

Queens, New York

For the rest of the school day, Peter's mind kept going back to the conversation with Sam. The man was a crime-fighter, an Avenger, he helped take down a clandestine Nazi organization, yet he talked like a therapist. Yes, he admitted to himself that Sam had made several pertinent points regarding Uncle Ben's death, and the lives of the people he'd saved these past few months. Hell, if he hadn't been in the right place at the right time, who knows what would've happened to the old lady who'd gotten lost. She would've missed her train to see her new grandbaby and would have had to walk all the way back to her apartment in the dark, alone.

While waiting for his train, he remembered the mysterious box that had been delivered a few days ago. Too much other stuff had happened and it slipped his mind. Now, he couldn't wait to get home to see what was in the box. He was tempted to use his powers to get home quicker, but then Aunt May might be home and think he skipped his last class. She would not be happy. So, he waited with the rest of the commuters.

The Parker Apartment

Forty Minutes Later

"May! You home?"

There was no answer. Peter searched the apartment just to be sure he was alone then went to his room, locked the door, and closed the curtains. He tossed his book bag and jacket on the bed, and kicked off his sneakers before going to the closet. Digging around, he found the box buried under a pile of dirty laundry, counting himself lucky May hadn't been in.

The box cutter was still on the desk. He grabbed it, using his thumb to slide the blade out. The adrenaline in his bloodstream whispered for him to hurry, but he didn't want to chance damaging the contents.

He cut the tape and folded the flaps out of the way, still none the wiser. An unsealed envelope with Mr. Parker printed on it lay on top of a bundle wrapped in dark grey plastic. Taking the single sheet of paper out, Peter unfolded it and read the printed note.

Mr. Parker,

We've never met, but I've been watching you and your exploits these past few months, and I must say that I'm impressed with your abilities as well as your moral and ethical code. The police can't be everywhere, and I'm glad you're here to take up some of the slack.

I also noted that you're in dire need of a suit upgrade, if you're to perform at optimum efficiency in your endeavors. Systemic, top to bottom enhancements. As a superhero, you simply cannot continue to be seen in a pair of pajamas you found at the Salvation Army.

To that end, the enclosed suit has been made to conform to your body type and abilities, even if you experience a growth spurt to which young men your age are prone. The material is designed to keep you cool in summer, warm in winter, and dry when it rains. I'll leave it to your insatiable curiosity to figure out the rest.

The webbing, made by yourself, of course, has amazing tensile strength. The replacement, included in this package, takes it up several levels with increased flexibility and strength. For climbing walls, your inherent spiderish tendencies will be enhanced by the new gloves.

If you have questions, there are changes you would like made to the suit or its accessories, or you are in need of additional webbing or repairs, please send an email to address below.

Sincerely,

An Admirer

Peter laid the note aside, lifted the bag out of the box, and unwrapped it. Holding onto the shoulders, he held up the red and blue garment. Superficially, it resembled his current suit, but that's where the similarities ended.

The arms, chest, hood, gloves, and boots were red. The sides from the armpits to the calves were blue. A spider had been integrated into the center of the chest. Upon closer examination, Peter found it to be more than a simple decoration. Same with the wristbands, the goggles inset into the hood, and belt.

The fine lines that at first appeared to be merely decorative, like the spider, were in fact much more. When he examined the inside, he found small sensors that would correspond to critical points on his body.

As anxious as he was to try it out, he couldn't even think of putting it on and doing a field test until May had gone to bed.

Hearing her key in the lock, Peter stuffed everything back into the box and shoved it through the ceiling access, pulling the cover back into place just as May's footsteps stopped outside his door.

Knock-knock-knock. "Peter?"

He ran a hand through his hair and let his features fall into an expression showing supreme boredom before opening the door. "Hey. You're home." May tilted her head down, piercing him with one of her lesser glares, which jumpstarted his memory. "Ah. It's my turn to make dinner. Sorry. Forgot."

The glare vanished and May dropped a quick peck on his cheek. "No problem. Everything's in the refrigerator. Call if you need help."

"I will," he told her with a smile of genuine affection. He pulled his door shut and waited until his aunt had gone into her room to go to the kitchen.

The Bennett Home

Joliet, Illinois

The closer Christine got to home, the more her excitement grew. The old gang she'd been thinking about had been relegated to a box in her mind to be taken out and examined when she wasn't busy saving Eli's life.

Kaitlyn and Sawyer had made dinner, and Christine had eaten every bite. However, if asked later, she wouldn't have been able to say what it was. As soon as she finished, she excused herself. She went around the table, giving her children and husband a distracted kiss on the cheek before locking herself in the home office.

She booted up the computer and went to put the kettle on for tea. Considering what she'd discovered, she might not sleep, but didn't want the extra caffeine to be the cause if she finished in time to rest before going to work in the morning.

While the kettle boiled, Christine inserted the data strip into the port and called up the specific data she needed.

Hours later, she gave a shriek of pure joy as she danced around the room. "Yes! I am the one and only dangerous, but fun, Doctor Christine Bennett! And my son is going to to be cured! Eli's going to live!"

TBC