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…
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 64
School Cafeteria
Lunchtime
Standing near the register, Peter held his tray while scanning the room for Ned. He found him sitting alone in the back, putting ketchup on his burger. As usual, he kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with the bullies who'd tormented him for years. The past few months, they'd left both of them alone and he wasn't sure why.
He came to a stop when a pair of dark purple leggings tucked into black high-top sneakers came into view. As his eyes scanned upward, he saw a bulky lavender sweater that reached to the bottom of her thighs, and she was holding a tray of food. When they'd run into each other this morning, he hadn't noticed her clothes. He reached her face, and to lighten the tense moment of nearly running into her a second time, Peter remarked, "I'd recognize that smirk anywhere."
She smiled back. "And I'd recognized the top of your head anywhere. You really should look people in the eye, Peter. It shows confidence. Just don't overdo it."
"In the eye. Right." He was hesitant to leave her without quite knowing why. "Haven't seen you in the halls before today, Felicia. Schedule change?"
"It's actually my first day at PS-whatever. New foster parents, new school." She shrugged without animosity. "Happens every few months. Kinda gettin' used to being the new kid on the block and hangin' tough." The right eye closed briefly in a wink. "Extra points, if you got the reference."
Peter chuckled. "I am the king of cultural trivia. New Kids on the Block. They're a boy band popular in the late 80s-early 90s. 'Hangin' Tough' was one of their biggest hits."
"Way to go with the cultural references, Petey."
Felicia went around him, and on impulse he made an offer. "Would you, maybe, if you want, like to sit with me and my friend, Ned? We know how it feels to be an outcast."
She looked where he indicated, took a deep breath, and let it out with a sigh. "As charming as I find you, Peter, the fact is I'm a senior and it would tarnish my rep to be seen lunching with your kind." Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, but she didn't let him off the hook. "So, I'm gonna sit outside, away from the riffraff."
Disappointed and knowing it showed on his face and in his tone, he made a valiant attempt to play it off. "No problem. So, I'll talk to you later?"
"Maybe."
As she passed him, Felicia winked to let him know she was kidding about not consorting with sophomores, and it made him smile. Peter turned around to see Ned watching him with his mouth open. Scowling, he set his tray next to Ned's, sat down, and opened the carton of milk. "What?"
"Who was that?" His best friend's voice held awe and astonishment. "She's… she's…"
"Blonde? Athletic? A little on the short side? C'mon, Ned. Help me out here. Don't read minds."
Ned methodically tore his napkin into pieces accompanied with a dreamy, besotted expression. "Beautiful."
Rolling his eyes, Peter picked up half of his turkey sandwich. "Really?" He looked off into the distance as if bored. "Hadn't noticed."
In his mind, he was grinning and couldn't stop. She said I was charming! No one's ever called me charming. Well, except May, and she doesn't count.
Vasilescu Shipping and Transport
Giurgiu, Romania
A Few Days Later
The door to the inner office had been closed for some time. The men and women had changed shifts and still Antonia hadn't come out. Pushing away from the desk, Andrei went into the office without knocking to find his sister glued to the security cameras. They panned the loading dock following the new man, Jacob.
"What do you want?"
"To see if you're doing what I thought, and you are." Andrei picked up the remote and shut off the monitors. "Leave him alone, Nia. He's a good worker. Keeps to himself, doesn't gossip, and isn't on his phone all the time. We need him to be here through the end of the summer at least. So, whatever you have planned…"
"What I have planned in none of your business." His sister jumped up and came around to take back the remote, but didn't reactivate the monitors. "It's not my fault men are intimidated by a strong woman in a position of authority." She crossed her arms. "But not him."
He sat on the corner of the desk, reaching out to touch her gently on the shoulder, concern in his eyes. "It's been weeks. Maybe that was the last one. Maybe it's all over." A thought occurred, one he'd had before, but hadn't spoken out loud. "Nia, please don't…"
An exasperated sigh made Antonia's cheeks puff out momentarily. "The others went away because I was bored."
"You bore easily, sister. Always have." He went to the door, but she wasn't done.
As if he hadn't spoken, she continued to rant. "I've given him my cell number, the office number, and let him know when and where I am in the mornings, as well as," she grinned smugly, "letting it slip when I'll be at the pub or restaurant, and that I dislike eating and drinking alone. He's not once taken me up on my offers."
"You remember that this…" Andrei waved at the monitors she'd turned back on, "…what you're doing, is called stalking. Please don't do anything without speaking to me first. Promise?"
She heaved a put-upon sigh. "Have I ever not?"
Andrei had to agree. His sister was nothing if not forthcoming, at least with him. Not so their parents. At the time of their adoption, the trauma she'd experienced at the hand of a trusted family member caused her to have debilitating nightmares. It happened within days of them being forced to sleep in separate rooms. There had been a time that Andrei blamed himself for sleeping through the event. Had he awakened, he would've gone to her rescue.
The nightmares had lessened in frequency, and he could always tell when one had awakened her during the night because she called him each time. Before she said more than "hello", he knew, and was always prepared for the drive over to her home, leaving Mihal, the most experienced of their employees, in charge.
Andrei closed the door and returned to his seat behind the desk with a heavy sigh. "I'll take him aside and have a word." He pulled the keyboard to him, glanced at the office door one last time, and went to work, making a mental note to keep an eye on the situation.
~~O~~
The door closed behind her brother leaving Antonia alone to continue with her surveillance of Jacob. She inhaled sharply as she watched him lifted two bags she knew to weigh forty-five kilograms each onto one shoulder and carry them out through the loading dock door. In short order, he came back and did it again, and again.
An over-eager smile turned up her mouth. Superior strength and stamina, a pleasantly rumbling voice, a somewhat shy smile that said "I'm-mentally-undressing-you-but-don't-want-you-to-know", and light blush when their eyes met and he didn't look away. When she was showing him around, he stayed close. Closer than was necessary or socially acceptable, and the eyebrow flash. Just the left, added onto the end of that smile.
She took a deep breath and let it out. I will have him and soon.
Eventually, Jacob was sent out of the loading dock to assist with preparing the cargo to be loaded onto the ship in the morning. With Jacob out off the dock for possibly the rest of the night, Antonia laid the remote on the desk, picked up her keys, and left the office. Her brother, immersed in preparing invoices to be sent out, didn't even say good-bye.
At the car, she realized she'd forgotten her purse and went back for it. On the still-active monitors, she saw Andrei talking to Jacob, his features serious. Jacob nodded, obviously puzzled by their conversation.
"What could they be talking about?"
Andrei finished his conversation with Jacob and made the return trip to the office. As soon as he turned around, Antonia dashed out the front door, closing it softly so her brother wouldn't know she'd seen him. In the car, she plotted and planned strategy for getting Jacob's attention, and what she would do about her brother's interference.
Jacob wasn't the type to be swayed by provocative clothing or honeyed words. The sense she got was that she would have to appeal to his intellect rather than rely on a man's involuntary reactions to the presence of a woman. Perhaps she should take that route instead. She looked up the address and hours of the science museum. Yes, that would be perfect.
Invigorated, Antonia's breathing sped up, and her hands clenched on the steering wheel. She had to burn off some of the frustration and adrenaline coursing through her veins or she wouldn't sleep tonight. On the way home, she made a quick stop to pick up a little something to alleviate the tension ogling Jacob had caused.
~~O~~
Hours later, Andrei received a text from Antonia. Coming at this time of night could only mean one thing. He pushed away from the desk and opened the loading dock door. When he caught Mihal's eye, he tapped his watch, and nodded over his shoulder. The other man waved to indicate he understood and went back to work.
Taking care to obey all traffic laws, Andrei arrived at his sister's home in short order. As usual, he found her in the shed at the back of the property, huddled in the corner, knees to her chest, tears making tracks down her cheeks, her entire body shaking.
The shed they called The Room had been designed to be sound and light proof. They'd built it together shortly after she moved in. The Room even had a shower where one could clean up before going back into the house.
Thankfully, the shed was obscured by bushes and trees. He sent Antonia to the shower and set about putting everything back in order. When he was done, he found her sitting on the swing midway between the shed and the house. Taking her hand, he lead her back to the house where he put her to bed and spent the remainder of the night holding her hand as she slept.
Plainfield County Correctional Facility
Solitary Confinement
Late Morning
The dizziness subsided and Sonja opened her eyes. Now that the room was no longer spinning, she sat up on the side of the bed, head in hands, and elbows on her thighs. Getting slowly to her feet and holding onto the wall, she shuffled over to the sink, and turned on the water. She splashed her face and used the sleeve of her sweater to dry off while examining her face in the mirror. Aside from the dark circles under her eyes from lying awake much of the night and paleness from lack of time in the sun, she didn't look much different than her first day in this hellhole.
Illinois, the state in which her alleged crimes had been committed, didn't subscribe to capital punishment in the form of execution. This meant that she'd spend the remainder of her life in here or a place just like it. The most she could ever hope for was to be transferred to another facility or to spend a few precious days in the infirmary. Neither of which appealed as other than a way to possibly plan an escape. But then, where would she go?
Her family had long since cut themselves off from her due to their very different political views. While they had all grown up under the umbrella of HYDRA, all but herself had decamped for the current political climate of their respective countries. In her grandfather's day, none would have dared to defy the family's traditions. As the elders died off, the younger, more liberal generations had taken it upon themselves to delve deeper into the tenets of HYDRA versus other political ideologies, leaving her as the lone holdout to carry on the heritage of their forefathers and mothers.
The only real act of rebelliousness had been her sexual identity, though not in the way her parents thought. They had been of opinion that her preference for women was a personal choice and not inborn into her genetic code. In a way, it was these single-minded beliefs from those who were supposed to love her no matter what that had fueled her path to becoming a doctor and geneticist under the guidance of Dr. von Strucker. That he was also a proponent of HYDRA had been, as the Americans say, icing on the cake.
The floor swayed beneath her feet, making her stumble. Sonja clutched at the edge of the sink and concentrated on not vomiting up what little she'd eaten for her last meal, and soon, she was able to stand without aid.
Then, without warning, her stomach heaved, and she barely made it over the toilet. Moaning, she leaned over the sink again, rinsed her mouth, and wiped the moisture from her lips with the back of her hand as she went to the door.
Inset into the top was a small window bolted from the outside. It didn't concern her that it was never left open because all that could be seen was a portion of sickly pink wall. As a doctor, she knew the color as Baker-Miller pink. Her opinions as to its effectiveness in reducing violent, hostile, or aggressive behaviors would matter only to another doctor in her or a related field of study.
Sonja slapped the door several times. "Guard! Guard! Come here at once!"
The same guard from the exercise yard opened the window, scowling. "What do you want, Sandberg? I was just about to draw from an inside straight."
"I don't feel well. Take me to see the doctor." Sonja made it an order, which didn't go over well with her jailer.
The woman snorted. "You're a prisoner. You get what you get and that might be the nurse." She touched her left ear, listening to someone on her earpiece. Two more guards joined her. "Stand back," she ordered.
The door opened, and Sonja held out her wrists. The shackles were snapped into place, and she was motioned out into the hall. Taking small steps, all that the ankles chains would allow, she shuffled to the secure door at the end of the hall, swallowing the bile that threatened to burst from her throat again. If she vomited on one of the guards, they would make her life even more miserable than it already was. No sense in making her situation worse. That would come soon enough.
On the long walk to the infirmary, they passed by the cafeteria. The other prisoners saw her and gathered to watch and shout profanities, which she ignored. Silently, she thanked the warden for insisting that she be separated from the general population, or she might already be dead. As it was, she would instead die slowly, or go mad. The latter was preferable because then she would be unaware of her situation.
Nausea threatened again, and Sonja barely had time to move away from her escort before vomiting on the floor. Some of her stomach contents splashed on the wall and on her shoes as her legs turned to rubber and her knees buckled. Before she could fall, they grabbed her none too gently under the arms, half dragging her down the long corridor until her legs stopped shaking.
A buzzer startled her as they arrived at their destination. Through the reinforced windows, Sonja saw two women in scrubs and yet another armed guard loitering in the corner, ever watchful over the prisoners being kept there.
It had become Sonja's habit to visually locate the cameras in the corners of every room. Here, they would leave no blind spots. No escape from the constant surveillance. Out of the depths of her spinning world, she recalled a line from a movie her now former girlfriend had insisted she just had to see.
You mess with the bull, you get the horns.
Well, she'd messed with a bull in the form of illegal medical experiments, and incarceration was the horns. Her only regrets were getting caught and eschewing the cyanide pill in her back molar, believing she would never need it.
The women stepped forward to assist, the one on the right pointing with her chin. "Put her there." Once Sonja was lying down, the nausea somewhat abated as the woman waved the guards away, and the other woman to her. She talked as she adjusted the pillow. "I'm Dr. Avila. Tell me what's wrong."
For an answer, Sonja gagged, leaned over the side of the bed, and vomited on the doctor's shoes.
Oncological Research Center
Pewaukee, Illinois
Breathing easier than she had in over a year, Christine sat between her colleagues Darren and Kyle Moss, Eli's pediatric oncologist, taking in their reactions to the information displayed on the wall-mounted monitor. As any experienced doctors would do, they didn't let their emotions show.
The men leaned forward to see each other, Darren with one eyebrow raised in question. Kyle gave a nod and a smile. To Christine, he said, "Looks good. First, let's do some testing to make sure he's not allergic to any of the ingredients."
"Right," Darren agreed. "Wouldn't want to deal with anaphylactic shock on top of the cancer."
Christine got to her feet. "We can begin tonight. I have all the specimens we need. Okay with you?"
The men nodded enthusiastically. They followed her into the lab, stopping in the outer room to get into clean suits to prevent contamination of the specimens. Once they were suited up, Christine entered her code. The door opened with a pneumatic whoosh! She grinned at her companions. "Let's do this."
~~O~~
By mid-morning, the trio of doctors had all the information needed to affect a cure for Eli, if the computer models could be trusted. Excited beyond expectations, Christine sent a text to Oliver with the news, asking him to have Eli ready to go to the hospital where Kyle would administer the first course of treatment.
Because she wanted to be there to watch the miracle happen in person, she excused herself and returned home to spend the evening with her family. Christine wouldn't tell Eli just yet that they'd created the cure, just in case. But the trio of doctors were highly optimistic.
Avengers Headquarters
Upstate New York
From her office on the third floor, Maria Hill watched the two people on the field wearing baseball mitts, tossing a baseball, and laughing, while reflecting on the scene she'd witnessed at the pub in town the night before. It had seemed to her that Steve was seducing Darcy Lewis in the same way he'd seduced her. That is to say he was himself, no pretenses, or deception as to his motives. In other words, what you saw was what you got.
He was noble to a fault, chivalrous, idealistic, a hopeless romantic, do-gooder, an underdog pre- and post-serum, and somewhat on the shy side with women until he got to know them. But with Lewis, he seemed more at ease than he'd been with her in the beginning, even after they worked together for several years.
Maria had only spoken to Lewis once since Selvig hired her as his assistant. She found the woman blunt, outspoken, sarcastic, a bit self-centered, and somewhat intelligent. Selvig had described her as detail-oriented, tactless at times, and a bit of a jokester who cracked wise even in dire circumstances.
She cracked a small smile when Steve faked a throw, causing Lewis to stumble backward over her own feet. Instantly, he was there to catch her. Lewis clutched at the sleeves of his sweater until she felt stable then immediately let go. Steve handed her cap back; she shoved her long hair up under it again and punched in the arm. Not at all the actions of a woman attracted to a supremely handsome man.
The beers she'd sent them anonymously had not been out of jealousy, but relief that he'd moved on from their relationship, even if the woman was just a friend. Okay, so she'd been a little jealous.
Lewis picked up her mitt, punching one fist into the other, likely calling out mild insults to interrupt Steve's concentration. Maria snorted and moved back to her desk. "Good luck, Lewis. You'll need it."
Fury had taken a leave of absence leaving her in charge, though Stark believed that job fell under his purview as the benefactor of the facility. Ostensibly, Fury had made himself temporarily scarce in order to write his memoirs, though Maria knew better. If he did write them, together, they'd have to kill anyone unlucky enough to read them. Most of the information was still classified as need-to-know to the general public, as well as the greater part of the not-so-general non-civilians.
Worse, the vast majority of his adventures would be passed off as fiction, myth, legend, of doubtful authenticity. The ravings of a delusional man suffering from PTSD, who'd seen and done things most would find abhorrent. And they'd be right, but also wrong. She'd been there for much of it and could attest to the fact that the director of SHIELD seldom spent a sleepless night walking the floor, watching television 'til all hours, or experiencing panic attacks.
The intercom buzzed, but Maria ignored her assistant's attempts to remind her of things she'd already done. Instead, she sent him an IM telling him to go get her something to eat. The buzzing stopped, and it made her smile.
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
Early Afternoon
May let herself into the apartment, set her briefcase and purse on the end of the sofa, shed her jacket and hat, and went to the kitchen. She grabbed a cold drink from the refrigerator and carried it out to the living room where she flopped on the sofa, kicked off her heels and propped her feet on the coffee table. Many times she'd reprimanded Peter for the same thing, but he wasn't here, and she was too tired to care anyway.
Her job as an event organizer was exhausting, more so than usual. But now that the plans for the next two events required additional input from the clients, she could take a break. Between her job and the revelation that her fifteen-year-old nephew was "Queens' own colorful crimefighter" Spider-Man, and the anniversary of the death of her brother and sister-in-law, she was an emotional wreck. It would help to have an adult in whom she could confide, but that would mean telling the world Peter's secret, and she would never do that without his consent.
Then, she remembered the woman's voice coming from the suit. Peter had called her Karen. But how to contact her?
Taking her drink, she padded down the hall in her stocking feet, stopping outside Peter's door. It was too early for him to be home from school, yet she still knocked. "Peter?"
There was no answer, so she slowly opened the door just in case he was sleeping. The room was empty. It was also a mess. Clothes were strewn over the floor, tossed on the bed, and draped over the chairs. His desk was another matter. The clothes she could do something about, but the last time she touched anything on his desk, he'd screamed like a little girl.
The architect had designed the apartments without closet doors for some unknown reason, leaving clothes, and who knew what else, out there for all to see.
May snagged the hangers from the back of the door and carried them to the bed to hang up the only clothes she knew for certain were clean. That done, she took them to the closet and hung them on the bar. In the back, she spied red and blue, his Spider-Man suit. The mask and gloves hanging around the hook.
She took the suit out and went to sit on the bed. Since the revelation about Peter, she felt… unfocused. Even her boss for whom she'd worked nearly ten years asked if she was alright. Pasting on her best fake smile, she said she was fine, and got back to work.
Taking the suit out, she held it up, examining it with a critical eye as she sat on the bed. Experimentally, she tugged at the material, rubbed it between her fingers, and tested the seams. Wherever he'd gotten it, it was well-made. The spider-shaped object in the middle of the chest Peter had told her was a drone. She opened the back and checked out the sensors integrated into the suit.
"Good afternoon. Where would you like to take me today?"
The voice was unmistakably the same one from the other day. She sounded intelligent and highly educated. May held the mask near her mouth. "Um, I, uh…"
"You're Peter's Aunt May. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Karen."
"Nice to meet you too, Karen. We sorta met the other day. Um…" May wasn't sure how to ask a stranger some of the questions rolling around in her head. "Let's start with who are you?"
There was a pause, presumably so that Karen could decide what and how much to tell her, meaning who she worked for was likely confidential. "I assist Peter with his crimefighting adventures. I'm also his friend." Another pause, and May wondered where this Karen was that it took her so long to answer. "You have questions about how your nephew became Spider-Man?"
"Yes, but no. Or rather not now. I'm not sure how I feel about this whole situation." Still holding the suit, May got up to pace. "My fifteen-year-old nephew is a freakin' superhero and has been for over a year! How could I have missed it?"
The other woman chuckled. "You didn't see it because you didn't believe it could happen. But now that you know, if you need someone to talk to who understands and has already pledged to keep Peter's secret, I would be happy to fulfill that need."
May breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I really could use a confidant. I suppose you perform the same duties for Peter."
"You may begin at any time. And if you need me again, I'd be happy to assist."
"Thanks." It warmed May to know that someone was looking out for Peter, even if it was just a voice in his ear. "Guess I'm ready now. How did he get hhis powers?"
Orlando, Florida
The Home of Joni Lewis
The oxygen generator hissed and whooshed as it pushed air through the nasal cannula into Joni Lewis's lungs. That, and too many medications to count were keeping her alive, or rather keeping her from dying now. Her body was reaching the limits of its endurance and the end was near. She could sense it, though it didn't take a genius or a doctor. It was something you just knew in your heart.
Her daughter had visited just last weekend and they'd spent the days doing anything they wanted without keeping a schedule or watching the clock, or watching calories. Darcy saw that she wasn't able to eat much, but was kind enough to not make a fuss about it. She too knew the score. Sure, maybe the reason Joni's infirmity wasn't mentioned meant that Darcy was in denial, or, hopefully, she'd accepted the inevitable just as her mother had done.
Darcy also knew her mother had kept secrets from her, the big one being her biological father's name. It was time for her to know. What she did with the information was up to her, and Joni didn't want to know if she planned on contacting him. The knowledge would be a shock to them both. To Darcy because of the man's identity, and the man because Joni had never told him she was pregnant.
As a child, Darcy had asked about her father a few times, and Joni had given vague answers.
Mommy, where's my daddy? All the other kids have one. Why isn't he here? Doesn't he love me?
In her heart Joni knew that, if he had known he was going to be a father, he'd have been one of the best ever. The one time they'd talked about being parents many years from then and only in the abstract, he said he knew how to be a good father. He'd just do the opposite of what his own father had done.
They'd laughed about it at the time, before she became pregnant. The day she planned on telling him the news, she arrived at his off-campus apartment to see him in the midst of packing his things. It reminded her that his time at the university was almost over, while hers still had two years to go. Not that she wasn't up to the task of completing her chosen course of study. It was more that he was so far above her intellectually, that he'd passed up every one of his classmates, and by mid-terms, he could teach the class more proficiently than the professor.
The last she'd heard before he moved on was that he would be taking over the family business. And so he had. Joni was proud of the man Darcy's father had become, and she wouldn't have interfered with his long-range plans for anything in the world.
As it was, she and Darcy had done alright for themselves. Joni had to drop out in the middle of her third year. Then, once Darcy was in school herself, Joni had begun taking classes at the college. She had to make up some of the courses, but it was like she'd never left. It took a few years, but eventually she'd gotten her degree, graduating at the top of her class.
With a sigh, Joni relegated the past to that place in her mind where she put things she didn't want out where they would spoil her concentration.
Using a walker, she made her way over to the desk, sitting in the chair with a grunt. She really wasn't supposed to be out of bed, but no longer cared that it might exacerbate her condition. Death was a constant companion, always standing in the shadows, waiting for the moment that her soul was ready to depart.
Joni opened the middle drawer and drew out a set of expensive stationery she'd created herself, picked up an elegant fountain pen, and got to work.
My dearest Darcy,
As a child, you often asked about your father, and while I didn't exactly lie when I said he was no longer around, implying that he'd died, that wasn't exactly true. Your father is alive, and doing quite well for himself, and the time for keeping secrets is over.
A pain pierced her chest pulling a hard gasp from Joni's throat. She fished in the pocket of her gown for the inhaler and the small bottle of pills she kept on hand. The medications did their work on her failing heart, and soon she could breathe without pain.
I've never told you this before, but your father and I met at university. We weren't in any of the same classes because our majors were as far from one another as the moon is from the earth. How an artist on her way to a bachelor's degree and a PhD candidate in the midst of his first doctoral thesis managed to find a few precious moments to spend together still escapes me to this day, yet somehow, we did. And in the process, he gave me the most precious gift of all. He gave me you.
Joni's chest suddenly felt constricted, as if there were a band being relentlessly tightened, restricting her breathing while draining what little energy she'd managed to scrape together in order to complete this oh, so important task.
It won't be long, Darcy, and I don't want to leave you with a blank space where your father's name should be.
The life alert button hanging around her neck would summon the nurse in the next room, but Joni had to finish the letter to her daughter before her diseased heart gave out for good.
This isn't easy to say, but your father is…
The pain in Joni's chest seared through her body to her brain. She clutched at her head, forcing an anguished cry from her throat, and her body felt disconnected from the rest of her.
She felt a pop inside her head, and in less than a moment, the nurse was as her side, helping her to lie on the floor, and covering her with a blanket. Vaguely, Joni could hear the woman calling 9-1-1 before she passed out.
TBC
Baker-Miller Pink is a tone of pink claimed to reduce hostile, violent, or aggressive behavior.
The color is also known as P-618, Schauss pink, or Drunk-Tank Pink, and was originally created by mixing one gallon (3.78 L) of pure white indoor latex paint with one pint (0.473 L) of red trim semi-gloss outdoor paint.
Alexander Schauss did extensive research into the effects of the color on emotions at the Naval Correctional Facility in Seattle, and named it after the institute directors, Baker and Miller.