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.
**The above mentioned "further developments" have developed into another funeral for the family. Off to Florida on Saturday. Please pray that I don't get sick again.
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 57
The rushing air raced through and around Natasha, blowing her hair in all directions as the ground got closer and closer by the second. Under the circumstances, no one would blame her for screaming her head off, which she did.
Her cap and headset had been ripped away. At the edge of her hearing, she caught the whop-whop-whop of Clint's chopper as he worked out how to pull off one of his infamous last second, seat of the pants, hot-dogging rescues. She couldn't see Sam and so couldn't say if he'd been badly injured or the wingpack damaged. If not, or if he was still mobile, one or the other would save her.
As the seconds went by and she was still falling, Natasha's thoughts turned to the possibility that this might actually be her Waterloo.
Above the roaring of the wind, Natasha heard strange sounds, like throwing mud at a window. Splat! Her scream cut off when she came to a sudden stop in midair. Cautiously opening her eyes, she looked around and laughed with relief and astonishment. Lights from the surrounding buildings glistened off thin, fine strands that had the appearance of a gigantic spider's web.
She made a quick and dirty calculation in her head, not caring for the answer. Based on the size of the web, the spider that had spun it was huge. Single-story ranch-style home huge.
She carefully rolled over onto her hands and knees, uncertain how to get down.
Bullets pinged off the windows and walls of the nearest building. "****** snipers!" she exclaimed out loud as she rolled into a ball to make herself a smaller target.
The familiar sound of the chopper's rail gun gave her hope that they'd all get out of this with minor injuries. Soon, Clint had drawn the fire away, and Natasha slowly climbed to her feet, balancing on the undulating webs that felt like walking on a trampoline.
Then, more shooting, but from a different direction. This one much closer that the others. Yuri. It couldn't be anyone else. "And I'm a sitting duck… in a giant spider web."
The web bounced in a way similar to a water bed when a second person jumps on it. Natasha gripped the webbing with one hand, while the other reached for one of the many knives she'd hidden on her person. Before it cleared its hiding place, a pair of strong arms spun her around until she was face to face with… She had no idea what or who she was looking at. The slight figure belied his impressive strength and the red and blue suit and mask obscured his features.
One arm went around her waist, pulling her close. "Hold on!" he ordered. The arm around her felt like a steel band. Her eyes locked with those of her savior and she instinctively grabbed him around the neck as she had Sam.
His right arm extended with the wrist facing up and the hand bent back, sending a strand of impossibly thin something up to stick to the side of the nearest building. That sound came again, and this close, it was more of a thwap than a splat.
He gripped the strand, jumped off the edge of the webbing, and again, Natasha found herself flying through the air. However, this time, she knew for certain she wouldn't be dying.
They swung down, around, and back up. Thwap! Her rescuer flung the two of them up and again they swung in an arc. This happened several more times, reminding Natasha of the Tarzan movies she'd watched with Steve one rainy afternoon when they were both bored and alone.
Chancing a glance over her shoulder as they reached the apex of their fourth or fifth swing, she saw they were headed for HavenCorp where she and Yuri had their standoff, but they were moving too fast! At this speed, they'd both end up with broken bones, scrapes, contusions, and head trauma. Tucking her face into his neck, Natasha waited for the pain and oblivion of unconsciousness.
Instead, he landed on both feet, without even a stumble. He set her down, let go, and stepped back, seemingly embarrassed that their bodies had been pressed so intimately together.
"Um, hi." He made a quick wave. "I'm-I'm Spider-Man."
One side of Natasha's mouth turned up in a smirk. "I seldom run into other spiders on the job. So, come here often?"
The mask obscured any facial features, yet she got the impression that he'd been stunned nearly speechless. "Uh… N-No, not since…"
She stuck out her hand. "Black Widow. You?"
His handshake and hesitation gave Natasha more information than he meant for her to have. "Uh, unknown spider species, I guess."
As one, they turned at hearing a pair of booted feet hit the roof a few yards away. To Natasha's relief, Sam hadn't crashed into a building or the ground. He was, however, bleeding from the shoulder wound.
She went to help him, and strangely, he was staring at her companion. His expression was more peeved than curious. Ignoring his injury, Sam made a move toward him and stopped when he shot another web and left the area. "Dammit! We told him not to… Ow!"
The last word was due to Natasha taking Sam's arm to hold him in place so she could tend to his wound. "Come into the light, so I can have a look." Sam let himself be led over to a pool of light near the roof access. "Take the pack and Kevlar off so I can see what I'm doing."
Sam did as she directed, but with only part of his attention. The rest searched the sky. He made a sound of annoyance and finally sat down, hissing in pain when she moved his arm.
The chopper hovered above them, blowing their hair and clothes. "Stay still," she ordered.
Natasha got to her feet and looked up. She waved, and Clint veered away at the same time the roof access opened and Steve came out. He got on one knee next to her, his eyes showing worry for his friend. "You okay, Sam?"
Sam shrugged his good shoulder. "I've been hurt worse." He pointed his chin in the general direction of New York. "He was here."
"Saw the daring rescue while taking out the last of the snipers." Steve rested the wrist of his right hand on his knee. "We'll have to pay him another visit."
"Pay who another visit? Spider-Man?" Natasha injected into their conversation. "He saved my life, Steve. Leave him alone."
Getting to his feet, Steve tucked his thumbs into the belt of his suit. "Can't do that, Nat. He's just a kid."
"So's Wanda," she pointed out, not even glancing his way as she used a knife to cut strips from the bottom edge of his shirt. "Let's not debate the issue now."
Their eyes locked for a brief moment. "Don't want to debate it at all."
~~O~~
Steve's right hand went to his headset. He listened just long enough to get an understanding of the situation.
"Attention all units. An armed and extremely dangerous man has taken hostages in the Java Junction on Wilshire and Main. Proceed with caution! SWAT is enroute. All units report!"
To his companions, he said, "Trouble." He wanted to hit something. "Shit! Your pal Rozhenko's bad news."
Natasha snorted. "Just figuring that out, huh?" She finished tying off the makeshift bandage on Sam's shoulder. "What's he done now?"
Getting to his feet, Steve went to the parapet and looked over. "Taken hostages in the coffee shop across the street."
~~O~~
Yuri headed down the stairs. Hearing someone coming up, he opened the door at the next floor and eased it shut without a sound. With the blueprints of the building in mind, he made his way to the second set of stairs on the other side.
On the first floor, Yuri ran out the front and across the street, barely avoiding being hit by several cars. They all slammed on their brakes and shouted obscenities at him, but he paid them no mind.
He entered the coffee shop, filled almost to capacity at this time of the evening, everyone turning to stare at the strange man, dirty and panting from his run. Slowly and deliberately, he took off the jacket covering plan B. Holding out a remote he'd taken from one of his pockets, he made his statement, "This is a bomb. Everyone place your cell phones on the counter and get on the floor now! Over there, away from the windows." He pointed at one of the baristas. "You! Close the blinds and lock the door! Quickly!"
The young man rushed to do as he was told, and returned to take a seat with the rest of the hostages.
In the distance and coming closer, they heard the shriek of sirens. Police, EMTs, and fire engines. They would block off the the nearby streets, while several of the officers directed vehicles and pedestrians to hurry and rerouted traffic. Yuri had seen enough American police dramas to know what would happen next.
A negotiator would call and attempt to convince him to release the hostages and surrender. They would fail at both. He'd chosen this place in particular because there were children next door. There would not be many children and staff present at this time, but it would be more than enough to convince those in control to let him go. Americans were notoriously sentimental when it came to their young. In Russia, they dealt with hardships every day, and every day, people died. It was inevitable. At least these people would know the moment of their deaths. The end would come for them within seconds of Yuri pressing the detonator.
The phone rang, and Yuri grinned. So it begins.
~~O~~
Sitting with her knees up so their captor couldn't see what she was doing, Officer Susan Snow slipped her cell phone out, thanking God that she'd set it on mute when she came into the shop; he wouldn't hear her dial 9-1-1. She tucked the phone behind her so everything said could be heard by the operator. He or she would contact the SWAT team leader, letting them know what was going on inside.
To the trained eyes, the man appeared deranged, desperate. He was sweating and breathing much too fast, though not enough to hyperventilate. Too bad.
He gestured, and the barista who'd closed the blinds brought him the store's handset. The young man handed it to the man and returned to his seat, glaring at the man's back as he paced back and forth spouting rhetoric that ended with his demands.
"…and you have fifteen minutes to bring me the Black Widow and Hawkeye. For every five minutes that they are late, I will kill a hostage." He glanced at the clock. "Your time begins… now."
Snow wondered what this psychopath wanted with two of the Avengers. He hadn't said, so anything she could come up with would be speculation, unless he was just another wannabe, like the strangers who would come to town to challenge a retired gunslinger. She wanted to reassure her fellow captives that the police would get them out of this, but in every cop drama or movie, someone invariably narced, whether accidentally or on purpose in order to prevent or delay his or her death, so she kept it to herself.
~~O~~
To Clint's relief, Sam was in decent shape for having been shot and Natasha was only alive because an unknown individual with powers had saved her. He would have a long talk with her about making friends during a life or death situation. From the chatter between Sam and Steve, they knew the young man's identity, having referred to him as "a kid". Did that mean he was a minor, Wanda's age, or in his twenties? To someone born in the early twentieth century, a kid could be anyone who was born after the first Roosevelt administration.
Clint tapped his headset. "Sorry to interrupt, guys. Did you hear what came over the police band?"
"Roger that, Hawkeye," Steve responded without hesitation.
There was some fumbling around and Natasha's voice came next. "Three guesses what he wants, and the first two don't count."
In the background, Clint heard Sam's laughter at Steve's confusion. "I'm gonna find a place to set this bird down and join the hunt on foot."
"The SWAT team's already set up shop at a safe distance. Meet us at the command post."
Not wanting to waste an eye roll that wouldn't be seen due to Steve's obvious statement, Clint made a sound of agreement while scanning the rooftops for a helipad. There were none close by, so he settled for parking the chopper in an empty parking lot.
A crowd gathered to point and stare, whispering among themselves. Others, frightened by the possibility of more gunfire, kept their faces averted as they were hustled to safety.
Clint alit from the pilot's seat and opened the rear door, taking his bow case from storage. He locked up and jogged in the direction of the coffee shop, coming up on the SWAT team sooner than he expected. Before he reached the command post, Natasha opened the door to let him in.
"What've we got?"
The man in charge shot him a mild rebuke. "Eight civilians in the shop. There's also a day care next door. My people are getting the kids and their caretakers out as we speak, and their parents are being contacted."
Steve's bulk nearly filled the van. He grabbed a chair and took a seat, nodding at the commander. "Lieutenant Ang, Clint Barton."
The Asian man stood to shake hands, his hair brushing the roof of the van. Ang's eyes flitted from one Avenger to the other and back to their leader.
To Steve, Clint said, "Where's Wilson? He gonna be okay?"
The answer came from Natasha. "He's with the paramedics. He'll be good as new in a couple weeks, once they get him to the hospital. The shot was through and through."
Relieved, Clint tuned in to Ang. The SWAT leader gestured at the first monitor on the left. "According to my tech's research, the suspect, Yuri Rozhenko, was sentenced to life in prison for arms, drug, and human trafficking, in addition to a host of other crimes, including treason. He escaped from a high security prison in Kha-bar…"
"Khabarovsk," Clint finished for him, pointing his chin at Natasha. "We know. We put him there."
Natasha stepped between the men. "What're his demands?"
Ang leveled a glare at his guests. "He wants you two. Says he'll let the hostages go once you're inside."
Steve crossed his arms. "Let's assume that's a lie."
The SWAT leader shrugged. "We've evacuated what we presume to be the blast area, based on a description of the device strapped to his chest. All that's left are the people inside the shop. He's been careful not to be seen through the windows. However, we do have a man, or rather, a woman on the inside." Ang nodded and the tech brought up a new set of stats for a patrol officer by the name of Susan Snow. "She's only been on the force for two years, but has a good head on her shoulders." He nodded at another monitor, and the tech tapped a few keys. Words flowed across the screen, while the audio from inside the shop played.
Clint shared a glance with Natasha. The voice doing most of the talking was Yuri's, of course. At the moment, he was ordering one of the baristas to make him a drink. The familiar gurgling sound tapered off and stopped. Seconds later, Yuri slurped the drink as he paced in front of the hostages.
On the infrared display, they could see Snow move her hands behind her back. The woman was smart enough not to engage Yuri in conversation that would give away her status as a cop.
Yuri stopped moving to face the window, and Snow took the opportunity to shove the phone down the back of her pants. The tech worked some computer magic and the muffled audio became clear in time to hear Snow say, "Dude, I only came in here to pee, 'n I really gotta go!"
"Nyet! You're not getting a chance to slip out the back door."
Obviously playing up to their captor, one of the baristas raised his hand. "The bathrooms are over there, sir. Nowhere near the back door. And no windows."
Snow responded, pleading, "I know how this works. If I escape, you'll take it out on the other hostages. Please? I'm about to burst."
Gesturing with the hand holding his drink, Yuri gave his permission. "If you are gone longer than two minutes…" a weapon appeared in his other hand. He pointed it at another hostage, a young mother with her daughter cowering in her lap, "…these two will die."
The officer scrambled to her feet and ran into the bathroom. Moments later, they started receiving text from her phone with a photo of Yuri and the bomb. Even after it was enhance, it wasn't perfect, but Clint could work with it.
Snow was insightful in her observations of Yuri, even giving her opinion of his psychological state. Clint and Natasha shared a glance with Ang and Steve, all four agreeing with her assessment. Knowing Natasha as well as he did, Clint could tell what was in her mind because it was in his too. They were going in.
Then, Natasha grinned evilly. "Cap, I have an idea, and Stark's going to help. He just doesn't know it yet." Steve and Ang gave Natasha their attention, and she looked back with an impudent lift of one eyebrow.
~~O~~
The store's phone rang, and Yuri set his drink aside to answer it. "You are taking too long. The first hostage dies in two minutes, if Black Widow and Hawkeye do not show themselves. And do not try stalling by telling me you are sending for them. I already know they are here. Why else would I come to Newark?"
A snort of contempt came through the line that he didn't like at all.
"Thought you learned patience in prison, Yuri."
The voice was immediately recognizable. Natalia, traitor to the Russian people. He had to give her marks for her use of their native language. "My patience has long ago worn thin, Natalia. Prison does that to a man."
"If you hadn't broken the law, you wouldn't have be in a gulag. Perhaps you should've thought about that before becoming involved in treason."
He paced in front of the hostages. One of the women had been crying, and he was content to let her. Then she stopped, and it seemed as if she no longer saw him as a threat, but that turned out not to be the case. She'd stopped crying because she was being comforted by one of the men. Bah! Americans are too soft.
"There was nothing in the town where I grew up. Its only industries were farming, logging, or toiling in the mines. I wanted more for myself."
"That's the past. Look to the future, because the next prison won't be as easy to escape from as the last one."
He engaged the speaker, placed the phone on the table, and the weapon came out again. "Enough of this stalling." He chambered a round, making certain she heard. "You and your lover have one minute to appear. After that, I will kill a hostage every five minutes. If you have still not shown yourselves, I will go with Plan B."
"And what's that, Yuri? You wet yourself while Newark's finest break in and take you into custody?"
Yuri's bantering mood flipped over to anger. "Enough! Show yourselves now, or the woman dies!"
There was knock on the front door. Yuri shut off the phone and motioned for the barista to unlock the door. A pair of black gloved hands grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to safety. A moment later, the door opened again. Natalia, the traitor entered just ahead of her lover, Barton. Both held their hands in the air.
"We're here, Yuri, and we're unarmed," Barton calmly stated, as if he were talking about the weather. "It's your turn. Let the hostages go."
Shaking his head at their naiveté, Yuri backed up so that he could see everyone. "Move over there." He waited for his order to be obeyed, which they did with all speed, and that made him suspicious. He pointed at several people. "You, you, you, and you. Go, now, before I change my mind."
The hostages scrambled to their feet, wasting no time leaving. Through the door, Yuri could see black-clad figures leading them away. Natalia's eyes swept over those few left. "We had an agreement, svoloch'. Us for the hostages. All of them."
"I have changed my mind. These are my insurance." Yuri felt his anger surging at Natalia's scoff. "Now that we are together at last, here is what will happen. I will kill Barton first. He will slowly bleed to death while you watch. That is your punishment. Then, I will do the same to you."
When Natalia spoke again, he didn't hear the fear for which he'd hoped. "Whatever happened to ladies first?" She didn't wait for him to respond. Her smirk returned and she lowered her hand to her sides. "You lied to us, Yuri. I'm outta here."
She turned her back on him, stopping when Barton grabbed her shoulder. "Nat! You can't. He'll kill them."
Looking over her shoulder at the people on the floor, Natalia seemed indifferent to their fate. "I won't do business with someone who has no honor." Her voice dripped contempt, as if he were something to be abhorred.
Yuri's anger surged. He let her get almost to the door then shot her three times in the back, ignoring the screams from the hostages cowering on the floor. Her body jerked with each impact. She took one more step, and fell face down. A pool of blood formed around her, she took one last breath, and was still.
Barton took a step in her direction, stopped, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. This is what Yuri had been waiting for.
"I'd planned on killing you first, Barton, just to see the look on Natalia's face as her lover died in front of her, but this," he indicated Barton's defeated attitude, "is so much more satisfying." Barton mumbled a few unintelligible words. "Speak up."
His adversary cleared his throat. "We, uh, we were never lovers, Yuri. Her husband… he died years ago leaving her to raise their son alone. We were friends. Nothing more."
"It does not matter. Just seeing you like this was worth the trouble of breaking out of prison and traveling all the way to America." Barton dropped into a chair, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Yet, I am willing to be magnanimous." He waved the gun in his right hand. "The rest of the hostages may go."
Those left made a hasty exit. As soon as the door closed, Barton's entire attitude changed. His head came up, a smug grin having replaced the devastation of losing Natalia.
Light flickered in his peripheral vision, and when he turned, Natalia's body disappeared along with the blood. Yuri turned back to Barton who was now on his feet. He raised his left hand and flipped a salute. "Ty proigral, mu'dak."
He too vanished, and in that moment, Yuri realized that he'd been tricked.
Plovdiv, Bulgaria
Though he was by no means fully dependent upon the kindness of strangers, Bucky took advantage of those times it was offered without ulterior motives on either part. All Bucky wanted was a place where he could breathe, live, and meditate.
In the time that he'd been apart from Natasha, he dreamt of her often, and wondered if she dreamt of him. If she didn't, he wouldn't take such an admission as an insult or cause to worry if she loved him or not. The bits and pieces that made up Natasha's personality were different in many way than his, now and before he'd become the Winter Soldier.
Then, he'd only seen women as a means to an end. What that end had been depended on the woman. The night before he deployed, all he wanted was food, drink, pleasant company, and maybe a little dancing as a send-off.
Now, Bucky was living one day at a time, mostly traveling at night and sleeping during the day in those areas where he didn't feel safe, or something inside his head told him to stay far away, so innocent people wouldn't be hurt. Whenever he had a nightmare, he feared that the Winter Soldier would take control once again.
Sometimes he had to steal food or clothing, and if Natasha or Steve were here, he'd justify it by the circumstances.
Once he'd crossed into Bulgaria, everywhere he went the people looked at him warily, as if he'd come to rob and maim and kill, causing him to wonder if he'd been here before and didn't remember.
While there were holes in his memory for his first life, he clearly recalled each and every mission. The faces, the places, what weapon he'd used to sanction the target or targets. Bucky patted the breast pocket of his jacket to verify the pad and pen were still there. After signing onboard the Cephalus, he'd given into the urge to write down the names, dates, and places for each mission, hoping it would ease his conscience. But it didn't. It only made things worse, this wallowing in the past. He just couldn't get away from the reprehensible things HYDRA had made him do.
Laughter, music, and the scent of food cooking drew Bucky to a pub just inside the city limits of Plovdiv. His Bulgarian was non-existent, but it had been almost a day since he'd last eaten, and he wasn't above groveling to get a hot meal and a cold drink.
Bucky peered in through the window. The people seemed friendly enough. He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder and opened the door.
HavenCorp
Newark, New Jersey
In his station across from the coffee shop, Clint watched Yuri's body temperature climb when he realized that he'd been conversing with holograms and that Natasha's husband and son were a lie meant to confuse. Now it was time to put it all to rest, once and for all. It was obvious from the madness in his voice that there was only one way to bring this to a satisfactory conclusion.
Clint knew the type of explosive device contained in the vest and the best way to disarm it, but to do that, he would have to be there. If there had been another way to do this without risking more innocent lives, he'd have jumped on it.
He adjusted the bow string's tension and nocked an arrow. The one hitch in his plan was that the blinds were still drawn. Clint only had the infrared display in front of him to go by in order to make this work.
Taking a deep breath, he brought the bow up, aiming for the sweet spot, an area of the bomb not even two inches in circumference. It called for a narrow tip made of a non-conductive material that wouldn't cause a spark, thereby setting off the bomb. He didn't want to kill Yuri… Okay, that was a lie, but he wouldn't if it could be helped. However, that didn't seem to be the case here because the bomb was strapped to Yuri's chest and the velocity needed to penetrate the window and outer casing would virtually guarantee the death of the wearer.
To Clint, the choice was obvious. Yuri or the first responders and rescued hostages still within rage of the blast. It was no contest. The only flaw in their plan was not knowing for certain if the bomb had a secondary trigger. That's where Rogers came in.
Drawing back to the anchor point, Clint AKA the Amazing Hawkeye, the man who never missed a shot, inhaled, exhaled… and released.
~~O~~
The arrow penetrated the casing of the bomb, and continued through, the point exiting Yuri's back between the fourth and fifth ribs, ripping its way through the left and right ventricles.
On the monitor, Clint saw him looked down at the arrow protruding from his chest. Blood exploded from his mouth, running down his chin. He coughed once, expelling more blood, and fell to the floor, knocking over a table and several chairs.
The moment the arrow left the bow, Cap was on the move. He yanked open the door, clapped the shield over the bomb still attached to Yuri's chest, and curled into a ball, holding it down with the weight of his body. The resulting explosion threw him and the shield out through the front window. He hit one of the armored SWAT Hummers with a crash, denting the side. The windows on that side shattered, spraying chunks of glass everywhere, and sending the officers diving for cover.
Two squads of heavily armed men and women surrounded the front of the store while an EOD covered head to foot in protective gear cautiously picked his way through the debris. The man knelt down to examine the remains, and waved to indicate it was safe to approach.
First responders swarmed the area, checking on the civilians and injured police. Clint was relieved that most appeared to be minor injuries.
Natasha and Steve arrived just ahead of Clint. Rogers was standing with Lieutenant Ang, the SWAT team leader. Relieved that this particular incident in their lives was closed, Clint held out his left hand, grinning when Natasha, Wilson, and Rogers joined in for a group exploding fist bump, complete with sound effects. Ang looked at them with a strange expression, as if now, after the fact, he was questioning their sanity and they let him.
Clint fought a grin. "This calls for revels, as Thor would say. Who's for shawarma?"
~~O~~
After they'd eaten, the guys dropped Natasha off at the apartment she was using for cover. As the chopper lifted off, Natasha waved, and all three waved back. She missed James, yet was content knowing she and Clint were safe and that Rozhenko wouldn't trouble either of them ever again.
The Bennett Home
Joliet, Illinois
The Next Afternoon
Frustrated, Christine pushed away from the desk, groaning and rubbing her eyes. With a grunt, she stood and went to the refrigerator for a cold drink, downing the entire bottle of soda. She belched loudly, threw the bottle in recycling, and went on the hunt for a snack.
She'd reached an impasse in her research. Many years ago, she'd attended a symposium on genetics given by a special guest lecturer by the name of Dr. Bruce Banner. In that presentation had been a tiny seed, just a few words of wisdom that had slowly germinated over the intervening years, but had never flowered. Christine knew with absolute certainty that if she could remember what he'd said, it would finally all come together and she'd be able to free the subject from the hold Sonja had put on his mind. The frustration came from an internet search that led nowhere. Apparently, no transcription of that lecture had been published. If it had, she would've found it.
In the cabinet next to the sink, Christine found a box of cookies, Oliver's stash of Keebler's Fudge Stripes cookies. She smiled through a wave of nostalgia. Oliver and she had met during that other life Christine had lived. They had bonded over their mutual love of the cookies no one else in their peer group would touch. They were difficult to find these days. That's why he saved them for times in which he was desperate for answers. And who didn't love cookies?
Along with memories of that time came another. Christine had created a mnemonic that brought her success in that other life. "Well, I'm despairing of finding the solution. This better work."
She munched on a cookie while bringing up a specific song from that long ago era. Sure, 90s music wasn't the stuff dreams were made of, but it had worked for her then. No reason it wouldn't work now.
"First, I have to set the scene." She took off her top, leaving her upper chest covered only by a sports bra. Her plaid pajama pants took the place of the bottom half of the costume. Neither was the right color, but it would have to do. Using a hair tie, she gathered her hair into a high ponytail and took off her sneakers and socks.
The video that went with the song was irrelevant. Christine only needed the musical cues.
She moved the small table and chairs, creating an open space in the middle of the tiled floor.
To gather information into a cohesive block of data that had shape and meaning, she thought about each individual bit and byte as she was going to sleep, and the answer usually presented itself in the form of a dream.
In that other life, she associated things she needed to remember to a song playing on the radio while she studied. Hearing the song on the radio, on her headphones, or in her head brought back information she'd heard or read.
"Here goes nothing."
As luck would have it, she remembered song playing on the radio when she got into her car to go home. For this song, she had played the part of the lead singer with the rest as her backup dancers. No writhing on the floor in skin tight jumpsuits for them! They wore their everyday clothes. The scene fit into the episode where the team was undercover at a lip-synch contest during spring break.
Christine started the video, nodding her head in time to the music, coming in on her cue dancing and spinning, taking into account the smaller floor space. It pleased her to know she remembered the words and steps she and her gang had been taught that bore only a passing resemblance to those of the original artist. But then, they hadn't wanted to be a carbon copy.
I think I did it again
I made you believe we're more than just friends
Oh baby
It might seem like a crush
But it doesn't mean that I'm serious
'Cause to lose all my senses
That is just so typically me
Oh baby, baby
Oops, I did it again
I played with your heart, got lost in the game
Oh baby, baby
Oops, you think I'm in love
That I'm sent from above
I'm not that innocent
You see my problem is this
I'm dreaming away
Wishing that heroes, they truly exist
I cry, watching the days
Can't you see I'm a fool in so many ways
But to lose all my senses
That is just so typically me
Oh baby, oh
Oops, I did it again
I played with your heart, got lost in the game
Oh baby, baby
Oops, you think I'm in love
That I'm sent from above
I'm not that innocent
Christine pirouetted on her right foot, stopping into the second turn. Her daughter, Kaitlyn and her best friend Emma were standing in the open doorway with their mouths open and their eyes wide. Kaitlyn's horrified expression had her mentally cringing at the spectacle the teenage girls witnessed. She hurriedly shut off the music, searching for something to say that would explain without really explaining.
"Mo-om! What the hell are you doing?"
TBC
Ty proigral, mu'dak. = You lose, asshole.
"Oops! … I Did It Again" is a song by American singer Britney Spears, from her second album of the same name. It was released on March 27, 2000, by Jive Records as the lead single from the album. The song was written and produced by Max Martin and Rami Yacoub.