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.
Year From Hell: Season 2, in progress. Please stand by…
Just finished moving. Spent weeks going through all the crap in my apartment and throwing most of it out. Now in the new place. Yay!
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 61
A Few Days Later
Once again, Bucky was sitting on the café's patio enjoying a cup of coffee, the remains of his meal pushed to the side while he read the newspaper. From the corner of his eye, he saw the gang of young men coming down the street just as they did every day.
Just like on that first day, the older man was approaching his shop. He saw them and involuntarily touched the side of his head where the bruise was healing slowly. With his back to the door, he steeled himself for another attack, chin in the air in a show of defiance. To his surprise, the boys passed without a glance. When they'd gone, he unlocked the shop and went inside.
The boys were directly across from the café as the counter girl came out to give him a refill and take away the dishes. Her near silent gasp let Bucky know she noticed and her hand began to shake. Then, one of the boys spied Bucky. He pointed him out to the others and they turned and left the area as quickly as possible.
The girl watched until the boys had gone then turned to Bucky. Holding her wide-eyed stare, he raised one eyebrow, sipped his coffee, picked up the paper, and went back to reading.
Stark Industries
R&D Department
Scott poured himself a cup of coffee, stuck a donut in his mouth, picked up the box he'd brought in with him, and continued on to his office. He put the cup down before setting the box on the cabinet under the window with a sigh, and laid his messenger bag next to it.
He bit off a piece of donut, chewing as he booted up his computer. While that was working, he stretched muscles sore from this weekend's workout.
He pulled the keyboard to him, opened a file, and got to work writing his report. Scott was up to page two by the time his colleagues arrived for the day. The department head, Dr. Jubal Long, knocked on his open door and Scott waved him in.
"How did it go?"
Scott got to his feet, retrieved the box, opened it, and dumped the contents on the desk. What had once been a prototype educational toy for kids Cassie's age was now a pile of junk. He made a "there you have it" gesture and resumed his seat.
Long's mouth dropped open. "You let her destroy it?"
"I didn't let her do anything. My daughter is a typical girl. It didn't hold up against the normal wear and tear an eleven-year-old would put it through." From his messenger bag Scott pulled out a video game geared toward the same age group. "FYI, she beat the game in three days. Now that isn't typical." His chest puffed out with fatherly pride. "Cassie was recently accepted into AP classes."
Shaking his head, Long picked up the game cartridge and turned toward the door. "Kids these days. I'll talk to the game testers myself." He stopped with a hand on the doorknob. "I need those reports on my desk by end of day."
"You'll have 'em, Jubal."
When the department head had gone, Scott closed the door and went back to work with a grin. "My daughter, the genius."
Stark Tower
Manhattan
The door to Natasha's room opened as she approached, but she was too tired to thank Friday for the courtesy. After stripping out of her clothes, she took a long hot shower and washed her hair. By the time she was dressed and hair combed, there was a knock at the door.
The young man pushed a cart into the room where he transferred food to the table, added silverware, and a napkin, and left just a quietly. The bud vase held one each of lavender, hydrangea, and anemone. Lavender stood for silence and devotion, hydrangea for gratitude, and anemone for anticipation. She breathed in their combined scents. "Kudos on the subtext, Friday."
The hologram appeared over the small holotable, a falsely innocent smile on her face and in her tone. "Why, whatever can you mean, Agent Romanoff?"
"Never mind." Natasha sat at the table, took the napkin from under the silverware and laid it in her lap before bringing the fine china cup to her nose. "Mmm." She took a sip and returned the cup and saucer to the table. "Where is it?"
To her credit, Friday didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Your closet. I had a fake one made to replace the real deal. Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson never know the difference."
"Good." She cut a piece of the egg white omelet. "Not a word to the guys."
"It's our secret."The hologram held up her hands. "What time should I wake you?"
Natasha thought for a moment while sipping the last of the tea. "No need." She spread preserves on one half of the English muffin. "Would you please have my car ready by six? I have a feeling I'll feel like going for a drive around that time."
"Over the bridge to Queens, by chance?"
"We'll see." Too tired to finish eating, Natasha dabbed her lips and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth before getting into bed. Without being asked, Friday dimmed the lights and vanished.
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
Wearing his old Spider-Man suit, i.e. the red and blue footie pajamas he bought at the thrift store, Peter crawled up the side of his apartment building, moving around the windows and the fire escape. He slid the top half of his bedroom window open and peeked inside. The door was open, and he ducked out as May walked down the hall past his door.
Making no noise, he climbed onto the ceiling and closed the window with his foot. He pulled off the mask, dropped it on the bed, and hopped to the floor, easing the door shut without making a sound until the latch clicked.
Peter was pulling the suit off over his feet when the shrill blast of the smoke alarm startled him, making him fall. He quickly untangled himself, pulled off the suit, shoved it under the pillow, and sat on the bed just as May knocked. "Come in."
She was holding a towel and fanning the smoke in the air. "The turkey meatloaf is a disaster, Peter. Let's go out to dinner. Thai?"
He made an attempt at a pleasant smile, and it worked. "Sure. Thai sounds great."
May gave him a pointed look, highlighting the fact that he was only wearing boxers. "Maybe put some clothes on. The Thai place has a dress code, you know?" Her eyebrows drew together over her nose. "What that under your pillow?"
"Pa… jamas," he told her, trying to sound confident through the lie.
She snorted and went back to fanning the air. "It's a little warm for footie pjs, Pete."
From her tone, she had no idea of their true purpose. He went to the door, leaning on the jamb. "I'll be right out." Peter closed the door and leaned against, facepalming. Shit!
Prachya Thai Restaurant
Sitting across from Peter, May watched him push his food around on the plate, occasionally eating a bite, just now recognizing that he'd been distracted for the last couple of weeks. She reached across the table to touch the back of his hand. "What's the matter, Peter?"
He looked up and smiled tiredly. "I'm just stressed. Lots of studying." His eyes dropped to his plate as he picked up his water glass. "Thinking of applying for an internship."
That surprised her as it was the first time she'd heard about it. "Yeah? Where?"
"Stark Industries. What d'you think? Should I mention we kinda sorta met at the expo when the robo-soldiers went berserk?"
"Peter," May made her voice a minor rebuke, "you were wearing a mask and he was occupied trying to stop the robots. I doubt he even remembers." The television over the bar announced a special report. She pointed it out to Peter.
"…The beloved Queens' institution, Delmar's Sandwiches, was destroyed in an explosion…"
May saw that Peter's attention had been captured by the program. It was the most animated he'd been for days.
"…earlier tonight after an ATM robbery was thwarted by Queens' own colorful local crime-stopper, the Spider-Man. As the Spider-Man attempted to foil the heist, a powerful blast was set off, slicing through the bodega across the street, destroying both establishments. Miraculously, no one was harmed…"
She turned back to Peter, all seriousness now. "If you spot something like that happening, you turn and you run the other way."
"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course."
"That was only six blocks from us." For one of the few times, as long as she'd lived in the city, May was scared, more for Peter than herself. "We're all the family we have left. I don't want to lose you too."
The boy smiled and held her hand tight. "You won't lose me, and I won't lose you. I won't let it happen."
~~O~~
A figure dressed all in black carefully opened the same bedroom window Peter had climbed through not more than an hour before, lightly landing on the carpet. The figure lifted the ceiling access panel, pushed a brown paper bag into the space, dropped the panel back into place, dropped a note on the bed, and left again. A few minutes later, the engine of a black sports car revved and the driver pulled into traffic, leaving more than a little rubber on the road.
The Bennett Home
Joliet, Illinois
The Next Morning
Oliver and Christine came downstairs still in their pajamas, both sniffing the air. "Mmm…" Christine commented dreamily. "Thanks for starting the coffee, honey."
"Wasn't me. While you were in the bathroom, I was making a mental to-do list for the weekend," Oliver told her with a trace of smugness.
"Hmph," was her response. "Does your to-do list include actively napping? 'Cause that's what you were doing when I came out, even though you just woke up."
He chuckled and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "It might."
"You may need to put it off for a while," she told him as the smile faded. "I need you to watch the kids while I head to the lab. I'm finally close, Oliver. Shouldn't be much longer."
"Best news ever!" At the bottom of the stairs, they turned in the direction of the kitchen. All three kids and Emma were in the living room with their heads together, giving the sense they'd been at it a while. They didn't have to wonder how Eli got down stairs. It could only have been Dylan. "Who made the coffee?"
"I did," Dylan said from the doorway. "I am also cooking breakfast." He stood back to let them pass. "It is not much. Just biscuits, scrambled eggs, and bacon. For you and Christine, there is a pot of coffee, and the rest of us will have milk and juice."
He jerked when Christine touched his arm briefly. He was still wary of physical contact and she didn't want to make it even more awkward. "You didn't have to cook."
Dylan ducked his head and turned away with a sheepish smile. "I have no other way of repaying your kindness than to help with the household chores." The timer dinged. "It's ready. Please get everyone to the table."
~~O~~
Kaitlyn waited until her parents had gone into the kitchen to continue their conversation. "I'm telling you it's not them. They would've said something long before now."
"Yes, it is," Emma insisted. She held out her phone so the three Bennett kids could read the page she'd pulled up. "See there. And here…" her finger moved up to the top.
A snort came from Eli. "That looks nothing like Mom, though the guy does look a little like Dad."
Sawyer scooted closer, shaking his brother's arm. "If it is them, why didn't they ever tell us?"
"Sh! Here they come!" Kaitlyn whispered urgently. "Not a word. We'll check everything out first. It could all be a coincidence."
Emma made a sound of frustration, enlarging a video on the screen, the sound muted. "What about this?"
Still disbelieving, Kaitlyn pushed Emma's phone down so her parents would see what they were doing. "Don't have an answer for that yet." She powered up her own phone, tapped a few keys, and shut it off. "I've ordered what we need to prove you're wrong, Em. It'll be here in a few days. Come stay the night next weekend so we can check it out."
The group backed off from each other at the sound of Oliver's footsteps in the hallway. "Time to eat, kids. Go get washed up."
Without a word, the kids took turns in the downstairs bathroom. Dylan helped Eli then took him to the dining room.
Oncological Research Center
Pewaukee, Illinois
A Week Later
Dr. Darren Gilcrease watched Christine through the window, moving from one piece of equipment to another, getting more and more frustrated. He'd scanned through her current research the previous night, noting excitedly that she was close to finding a cure for her son's illness, and for others with the same or similar diseases. What she needed right now was food, drink, and some time away to give her a fresh perspective. She could also use another set of eyes and someone with whom to brainstorm.
She pushed away from the desk and he could almost hear a growl in the back of her throat. He'd done the same many times during projects of his own. Darren knocked on the window to get Christine's attention, but she ignored or didn't hear him, so he let himself into the lab.
~~O~~
A series of beeps preceded someone entering Christine's inner sanctum. Footsteps stopped next to the desk. She looked up and tried to smile at her guest. "Darren. To what do I owe this honor?"
He crossed his arms over his Santa belly, tilting his head to one side. "Actually, that's my line." He drew a chair up next to her where he could see the monitor. "I've come to offer my services, if you'll have me."
"Since when are you an expert in pediatric cancer? You're area of expertise is genetics, specifically Rett's Syndrome."
"Last night." Pursing his fleshy lips into a smirk, Darren turned the desk to scroll the information on the screen. "My current project is awaiting fresh funding. Don't want to lose my position in the wake of Sonja's incarceration. Might as well make myself useful somehow." He stopped scrolling to examine a series of graphs and 3D models, his bushy eyebrows met over his nose. The expression changed to incredulity and anger. "Your son was purposely infected with cancer? That's appalling! Anyone who would do such a thing should be boiled in oil and set on fire."
"Oh, she will be. Metaphorically speaking. It was Sonja." Darren gasped, horrified, just as Christine had been. "In addition to the unethical medical practices, she's been accused of the attempted homicide of Elijah Bennett, minor child of Doctors Christine and Oliver Bennett." One side of her mouth turned up in a rueful smile. "She won't be treated kindly by the other inmates."
"Nor does she deserve to be," Darren added. "Forget about Sonja, and concentrate on Eli." A hand rested on his chin in thought. "She used a retrovirus as the delivery system."
Thankful that her colleague refocused her attention, Christine nodded. "My first thought was to use the same retrovirus to transport the cure. But I'm at an impasse." She tapped the monitor with a finger. "The answer is here. We just need to find it."
"I have an idea that may help. Take a few minutes to decompress, clear the mind." He looked around. "When was the last time you ate? Had something to drink? Taken a nap?"
Christine waved a hand indifferently. "None of that is as important as curing my son."
"Oh, but it is. Like a car, the body will cease to perform at peak levels without fuel, lubrication, and regular maintenance. Hunger and dehydration can cause confusion and irritability, and you are displaying all the classic symptoms." He stood, took her by the hand, and forced her to go with him to the door. "Go refuel, and don't come back for at least an hour." Christine's friend and colleague smiled. "Who knows? I may have the answer by the time you return."
She wanted to stay, but Darren made a good point about rebuilding her energy reserves. Even a few minutes away can reset the mind. Her stomach churned at the thought of eating in the company's cafeteria, but she didn't have much choice. The food she'd brought from home was long gone, and asking Oliver to bring her something would take too long.
A few minutes later, Christine was in her office with a tray of semi-healthy food and drinks, and one highly decadent calorie-intensive dessert. She ate every bite and lay down on the sofa for a short nap, not even bothering to take off her shoes.
~~O~~
Christine was jolted out of a dreamless sleep. The clock on the credenza said she'd slept almost two hours. She got to her feet, stretched, yawned, and started yet another pot of coffee. While that worked, she took a bathroom break. Her clothes felt like she'd worn them for a week without showering. She went to the closet where she kept a couple sets of clean clothes and exchanged the wrinkled saggy top for a clean one and the wilted slacks for a pair of blue jeans.
She brushed her hair, applied a coat of lip balm, slipped into her lab coat and returned to the lab where Darren was sitting slumped in his chair, staring at the monitor, occasionally extending a finger to scroll through the data.
Pulling a chair up next to him, Christine handed him a cup of coffee. Absentmindedly, he sipped and went back to scrolling, murmuring, "Think I'm onto something." He raised his scrolling finger in the air. "No talking while I'm thinking."
Darren's epiphanies yielded results more than any other scientist on the staff. Christine relaxed in her seat to watch the master at work.
~~O~~
Hours later, Christine and Darren agreed that the answer was staring them in the face and judged that both were just too tired to see it.
Getting to her feet, Christine made one gigantic yawn and stretched. "My husband is beginning to feel like a widower and my children motherless. Let's put this on the back burner for a couple of days."
"But…" Darren's protest ended when he too yawned.
Taking hold of both hands, she pulled him to his feet. "Go home, Dare. I'll see you bright and early day after tomorrow. Deal?"
He took a small bottle from his coat pocket, removed his glasses, and tilted his head back to put drops in his eyes. Blinking to spread the moisture around, he grunted when Christine pressed a tissue into his hand. "Thanks so much for tossing my own advice in my face like a handful of sand. And yes, we have a deal. 0600. I'll even bring breakfast."
The Bennett Home
Joliet, Illinois
Noonish
Christine awoke to the sound of thunder and rain pounding on the roof. Rainy weather made her sleepy. When she was younger, she'd even slept through her alarm on a few occasions. Not an option when you're married with kids and a job.
She padded around the room gathering clean clothes, tossed them on the bed, and went to the ensuite.
~~O~~
Feeling more like herself after a good night's sleep and a long hot shower, Christine dressed in dark blue jeans, a burgundy long-sleeved t-shirt under a navy and burgundy flannel shirt, and white sneakers. She checked her hair in the mirror one last time and went down stairs to see what the family was up to. Normally, Oliver would be doing yard work while Sawyer practiced kicking goals. Kaitlyn normally vanished to spend the day at dance class or with friends. Eli hung out at home, and either Christine or Oliver would take him to the park, a movie, or even to the arcade so he wasn't cooped up in the house all day every day.
Today, however, all three kids, plus Emma, were in the den binging a television show or watching a movie. They weren't fighting, making this another rarity. She glanced around the room and found Dylan sitting in a corner reading one of her books on genetics.
In the kitchen, Christine found Oliver making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. She kissed his cheek then grabbed a cup from the cabinet and poured a cup of coffee. After a long sip of the hot brew, she leaned against the counter where she could see her husband's face. "Thanks for letting me sleep in today."
Oliver shrugged away her praise. "No biggie. So far on this disgustingly wet Saturday, my hardest decisions were blue or black socks and what to make for dinner."
Christine set her cup out of the way and went about setting the table for lunch, raising her voice to be heard, "This thing with Eli has me so wound up. It's like I'm obsessed, and in a way I am. Darren's been helping me now that Sonja's gone."
"I wondered about that. What happened?"
Back in the kitchen, Christine stood close to Oliver, keeping her voice low. "I'm not at liberty to say, officially. But since I was the one who turned her ass in to Whitley and the HR crone… Gave them all my evidence of her wrongdoing and let nature take its course. After her injuries had been treated at the ER, she was taken straight to jail where she'll stay until the DA files formal charges."
Oliver wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder and held her around the waist. "That's my girl."
They were about to kiss when they heard familiar music coming from the den. Their mouths dropped open and closed with a snap. Christine stepped out of his arms, going to the doorway into the hall that led to the living room and den, head tilted to the side, listening. "Oh, my gosh! They're watching 'The Freeze-Frame Mysteries'."
Oliver who'd come up beside her. "Wow. That brings back memories of the nineties."
She clutched his shirt sleeve. "Think they know?"
"Doubt it." A shrug was added.
Lowering her voice and leaning close, Christine asked, "Still remember the theme song's lyrics and the dance steps?"
Scratching his head, Oliver shuffled around to face her with a sly smile. "Ye-eah. I think so."
Christine sang softly and Oliver joined in on the second line. The melody itself was easy. "Freeze-Frame", by the J. Giles Band, with the lyrics changed to fit the Disney series about a group of teens who solve mysteries ala Scooby-Doo. The dance moves were simple as well.
By the end of the first verse, Christine and Oliver were singing and dancing.
We could see it was a mystery weekend
Slow-motion weekdays stare us down
Our mystery reflex got us wound
So many clues to be found
Snapshot images frozen without a sound
Saturday morning is a hot flash-factor
Bad guy's face still focused in our minds
Test-strip, proof-sheet clues are hard to find
Friday night we'll get ready for the weekend grind
Stop-time heart for us if the bad guy's lyin'
Freeze-frame (freeze-frame)
Freeze-frame (freeze-frame)
Freeze-frame (freeze-frame)
Freeze-frame, now freeze
They ended the song back to back, arms crossed, and looking into the "camera", with big smiles.
"Pardon me…"
Together, they spun around at the sound of Dylan's voice. He approached them in a tentative manner, and Christine could almost see the wheels spinning in his head.
"Christine, why have you and Oliver not told your children that, as teenagers, you were television stars?"
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
"Aunt May, did you do lunch already?" The apartment was empty and nothing was in the oven or on the stove cooking.
Peter took out his earphones, threw his keys on the table and the backpack he bought at the thrift store on the chair by the desk, kicked off his shoes. He flopped onto the bed on his back, holding an envelope that someone had left on his bed. At first, he thought it was from Aunt May, but it had been printed and looked just like the one with the suit. He took out the single sheet of paper.
Mr. Parker,
Please accept my apology on behalf of Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. They repossessed the suit without authorization from the one who created it specifically for you.
The work you do is vital to the continued safety of the community and you should not have been forced to work with less than optimal equipment.
Open the ceiling access. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.
An Admirer
Peter scrambled to open the panel. He reached inside and pulled out a brown paper bag, quickly dumping the contents on the bed. Inside, he found the suit and another note. Handwritten this time.
This belongs to you.
Underneath, someone had drawn a black spider with a red hourglass on its belly. His jaw dropped. Was it possible his admirer was the Black Widow? That knowledge turned to confusion. If she were the one who'd created the suit, wouldn't she have known who he was the night he rescued her?
He checked the time, and his breathing sped up. If May was out, that meant she had errands to run while he'd been at the library. Taking the chance fate had thrown him, Peter quickly stripped out of his clothes, put the suit and mask on, and stepped in front of the mirror, admiring the clean lines. "Karen?"
"I'm here, Peter. Where would you like to take me today?"
"I'm not sure yet." Peter lightly touched the drone over his chest. "Monitor all law enforcement frequencies. Um, the Avengers too. Just in case."
"Will do."
Peter smoothed his hands down the arms and over his chest, thrilled to have the suit and Karen back. He pulled the mask off and was about to ask the AI a question when he was scared spitless at hearing a familiar voice.
"What the ****?!"
TBC
"Freeze-Frame" is a song written by Seth Justman and Peter Wolf for The J. Geils Band. It was first released as the opening track on the chart-topping 1981 album of the same name.
The lyrics were changed to fit "The Freeze-Frame Mysteries" series.
Scooby-Doo is an American animated franchise, comprising many animated television series produced from 1969 to the present day. Writers Joe Ruby and Ken Spears created the original series, Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!, for Hanna-Barbera Productions in 1969. This Saturday-morning cartoon series featured four teenagers-Fred Jones, Daphne Blake, Velma Dinkley, and Norville "Shaggy" Rogers-and their talking brown Great Dane named Scooby-Doo, who solve mysteries involving supposedly supernatural creatures through a series of antics and missteps.