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 65

Avengers Headquarters

Upstate New York

"Hey, batter-batter-batter!" Darcy taunted Steve from her seat next to him on the sofa.

She added a shoulder bump, trying to throw him off. Yet, Steve manipulated the controller as if he'd been doing it all his life. On the monitor, his avatar hefted the bat over his right shoulder, making a practice swing while adjusting his stance. Naturally, his team was the New York Yankees. To his annoyance, the game was only programmed with recent players and not members of Murderer's Row.

Today Darcy wore black leggings and a form-fitting burgundy sweater. The sleeves covered the lower part of her palm, and a loop hooked over her thumb. A short black skirt added cuteness to the look. It was all topped off with an Orlando Magic baseball cap replacing the knitted cap she usually wore. Not to be outdone, during one of their breaks, Steve had ordered a vintage New York Yankees cap off the internet that wouldn't arrive until the following week. Then, it was game on.

Darcy's avatar went into his wind-up; Steve swung and missed. The on-screen umpire shouted, "Steee-rike one!"

An evil chuckle came from Darcy. "Your player should be called Rusty Gate."

Not getting her reference, Steve repeated, "Rusty Gate?"

She smirked at him over the top of her glasses. "'Cause you're just swingin' in the breeze." She paused the game and laid the controller on the table to pour herself a cup of tea from the thermos. "The score's five to two. Why don't you forfeit now and save yourself the humiliation of losing to an obviously superior player?"

The game would've been more authentic with beer, peanuts, and hot dogs instead of tea for Darcy and coffee for himself. Though, he didn't mind nearly as much as he said when they elected to play the video game due to their outdoor activities being curtailed because of rain. The griping was all for show. "Games not over yet, Lewis. Oh, and about your pitching, I've gotten more heat from a toaster."

To which Darcy retorted, "And I've seen better swings on an abandoned playground." Steve snorted. It was a pretty good heckle. She jabbed her elbow into his ribs. "You're supposed to stop, drop, and roll when you get burned, Rogers."

Before Steve could tag her with another come-back, Darcy's phone rang. She picked up her phone, eyes squinting at the caller ID, the smirk turning to a frown. "Excuse me. Gotta take this."

She jumped up and rushed to the other side of the game room. "You're go for Darcy…"

Steve went on alert at the stiffening of her spine and the cup crashing to the floor where it shattered, scattering sharp ceramic shards all over. The same hand covered her mouth. Her shoulders hunched and her entire body shook as she sank to her knees.

The phone landed in front of her with her glasses and cap. That hand joined the other covering the lower half of her face. Steve rush to her side, going down on one knee, surprised to hear the ever cheerful Darcy crying. "What's wrong?"

Darcy didn't immediately respond, and her distress would be evident to anyone with eyes. He laid a soothing hand on her upper back and she jumped, as if she'd forgotten he was there.

"Darce? Who was on the phone?" She shook her head, unable to speak. He went into the bathroom and came back with a box of tissues. Soon, the quiet sobbing gave way to sniffles. Steve took Darcy's hand and helped her stand. He led her back to the sofa where the game had been paused. He shut it off, sat next to her, and pulled her into a gentle hug.

Immediately, she turned into the embrace, gripping the front of his shirt with one hand. "My Mom died."

Steve pulled Darcy closer, tucking her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Was it unexpected?"

"No," she told him so softly, he doubted anyone else would've heard her. "She, uh, she had congestive heart failure. The doctors think it was caused by a virus that damaged the lining around the heart."

"The pericardium." He made a sheepish shrug. "Mom was a nurse."

He the soggy tissues and gave her fresh. "Right. She's been on the transplant list for months." Her shoulders twitched. "Too late now." The hand on his chest rubbed down to his waist and stopped. "I-I need to book a flight to Orlando."

"I can take you on one of the quinjets."

He let her go when she pushed out of his arms, looking at him with wide tear-filled eyes. "You'd do that for me?"

A smile turned up one side of his mouth. "That's what friends are for." She blew her nose with a loud honk, and he just barely kept from laughing. "Do you have family?"

"Just my step-dad, but he died in a car accident a few years ago."

Not having looked at her file, Steve didn't know anything about her family situation. "What about your uh, biological dad?"

Turning so she could sit next to him with one leg curled under, Darcy dabbed at her cheeks and squinted in the general direction of the windows. He took the hint and went to get her phone and glasses. She thanked him with a sad smile. "He's been gone since before I was born. Mom married Greg Lewis when I was five, and he adopted me."

Steve nodded understanding. "Dad was shipped out while Mom was pregnant with me. He died overseas. When I was old enough to understand, she went on a few dates, but nothing serious. Said Dad was the love of her life and no one else could ever measure up to his memory."

"Sounds like you grew up in a loving home."

"You too."

Darcy held out her hand, tapping his knuckles with hers, a different version of a fist bump. "Another thing we have in common."

They let the silence stretch between them, each immersed in their own memories until Darcy stood, and he came up with her. "Want to leave this afternoon or in the morning?"

Her eye roll involved her entire head this time. "Probably won't sleep, so tonight, if you don't mind."

Steve gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Go pack while I let make the arrangements."

Those slender shoulders sagged. "Almost forgot to call Erik." Taking out her phone, Darcy scrolled her contact list and dialed. Thanks, she mouthed to him, and he answered with a smile.

Heading toward his quarters, Steve took out his own phone and dialed from memory. "Tony? Steve. I need the use of a quinjet for a week, maybe two."

"Moved on from Hill already, Old Man?"

Letting annoyance into his voice, Steve shot back, "And it's your business why?"

"No need to get bent outta shape. Just concerned that our esteemed leader will come off as a player, should the press get wind of your rebound romance. After Ultron and Sokovia, the Avengers need all the good feels with the public we can get."

Steve couldn't keep up the pretense, relenting without a fuss. "Darcy's just a friend. We have a mutual love of baseball, beer, and getting the job done right." It was possible Tony had already heard the news, or not. "Her mother passed away today. I'm taking her home. She, uh, she doesn't have anyone, no family. Don't want her to be alone. Nat and Sam were there for me when Peggy died. I'm…"

Tony continued the thought when he couldn't, "Paying it forward. 'Cause that's how Captain America rolls. Take the quinjet. A car will be waiting at Orlando International. Stylish, but not too pretentious."

"How'd you know Darcy's from Orlando?"

"Are you seriously asking that question, Cap? I'll have you know that I have my finger on the pulse of the compound." He paused, and Steve heard beeps in the background. "Hmm. She doesn't post pics of her family on social media. Why's that?"

Heading toward his quarters, Steve was ready to end this conversation. "Ask her yourself. Word of warning: she's a handful. Outspoken, sarcastic, impulsive, almost your level of intelligence, or on the way to it, and take-no-prisoners at video games."

"It doesn't hurt that she's also easy on the eyes." Steve could practically hear the wheels turning in Tony's head. "So, are you and she…"

"We're just friends, Tony," Steve repeated. "Not that you'd know what that's like." He reached his quarters; the door sensed his approached, slid open, and closed again once he was inside. "I gotta head out. I don't want to hear you've been spreading rumors about Darcy and me."

"Then they better listen close the first time, Old Man."

Rolling his eyes, Steve shut off the phone, shoving it into his back pocket as he reached into the closet for his duffle bag, mentally listing everything he wanted to take. He pulled out the garment bag that held the dark suit he'd worn to Peggy's funeral, rubbing his left shoulder where he sometimes still felt the weight of the casket weighing heavily on his hopes and dreams.

Pushing those sad memories away, he methodically packed the bag, hung it over his shoulder, and stepped into the hall. Darcy had gone home to pack, and he wanted to be ready when she returned. "You're better at this kind of thing than I am, Buck. Wish you were here."

~~O~~

Steve stowed his and Darcy's bags and showed her how to buckle into the jumpseat with only a few words spoken between them. He understood the quietness and need to be alone with your own thoughts following the death of a loved one. It had been the same for him when his mother passed. That was why he'd initially turned down Bucky's offer to move in with him and his mother.

When the day came that he couldn't quite make the rent on the apartment in which he'd grown up and pay for his frequent trips to the doctor, and the loneliness became oppressive, Steve had given in. For the first couple of months, Bucky slept on the floor using the couch cushions like they did when they were kids. Then, some understanding soul donated another twin bed so Bucky could have his back. Not long after, Bucky's mother had died, and Steve was glad he could be there for his friend, wishing he could be there for him now.

"You okay, Darce? We're about to take off."

"I'm fine, Rogers. Just fly this thing." Her voice lacked the usual sparkle and edge of sarcasm he'd come to expect and counted on to lift him out of his post-break-up doldrums. "Um, you can fly this thing, right?"

And there it was, what Tony referred to as snark. Steve smiled to himself. "I do. Once we're in the air, you'll be able to move around."

She squeed, the same sound little girls made when they saw puppies and kittens. "O-oh! Just like a real plane, without the 'fasten seat belts' signs."

"I could have Stark put one in, if it would make you happy."

"What would make me happy is the flight attendant slash pilot getting on with taking off so the drink cart can come around."

Matching her sarcasm, he flipped a jaunty salute. "Yes, ma'am." He keyed the mic. "Tower, this is Tango-Hotel-Juliet-niner-one-three requesting take-off."

~~O~~

Once they were in the air, Steve put the quinjet on autopilot and went in the back. Darcy had unbuckled from the jumpseat and was wandering around the aft cabin, looking at everything, but not touching anything. Eventually, she resumed her seat, legs crossed, and eyes focused on her inner pain, if he had to guess. Well, that's why he was here. To give her a shoulder to lean on while she planned and executed her mother's final wishes.

To break the tense silence, and hopefully cheer them both up, Steve sang a song he found on the internet about their shared love of baseball.

Well-a beat the drum and hold the phone,
The sun came out today.
We're born again, there's new grass on the field.
Just a-roundin' third, and headed for home,
It's a brown-eyed handsome man,
Anyone can understand the way I feel.

Soon, Darcy had joined in, singing with enthusiasm, and little talent. Yet another commonality.

Ooohh -
Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today
Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today
Look at me, I can be centerfield

Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine
Watching it from the bench
You know I took some lumps, when the mighty Case struck out
So "Say hey" Willie, tell the Cobb, and Joe DiMaggio
Don't say it ain't so
You know the time is now

Ooohh -
Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today
Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today
Look at me, gotta be centerfield

Got a beat-up glove, a home-made bat
And a brand new pair of shoes.
You know I think it's time to give this game a ride
Just to hit the ball and touch 'em all, a moment in the sun
It's-a gone and you can tell that one good-bye.

Ooohh -
Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today
Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today
Look at me, gotta be, Centerfield

At the end, Darcy was grinning as she held a hand up, palm facing out. Steve high-fived her, and he was relieved to see color come back into her cheeks that wasn't caused by the wind.

Yeah. She'd be okay, and he'd be there with a strong shoulder and a box of tissues when she wasn't. After all, that's what friends were for.

Vasilescu Shipping and Transport

Giurgiu, Romania

One of the men, Stefan, older, married, not Antonia's type even if he was single, was in the aerial platform of a bucket lift repairing a piece of equipment near the ceiling. He used the controls to move the platform, and though he was their most experienced operator, it jerked and bounced.

Antonia jumped to her feet as the lift's engine belched smoke and sparks shot into the air. It lost all power and dropped, alerting the men below that there was a problem. The smoke thickened and flames licked at the motor, making it whine in protest. Several men ran to get fire extinguishers, but it was hopeless. The loading area had filled with smoke, the billowing clouds filling their lungs and making them cough, forcing them back.

The shrink-wrap on the pallets closest to the fire had melted, adding toxicity to the foul-smelling smoke, and damaging the products. As they watched helplessly, the entire lift shook hard and Stefan was thrown from the platform.

In a split second, the bags Jacob had been carrying were lying on the floor where they'd burst open, scattering the powdery contents. It added yet another noxious element to the air, causing chaos, and damaging the remainder of the inventory, with few exceptions.

Jacob ran forward, arms outstretched to catch Stefan. The impact caused him to stumble. He went down on one knee without dropping Stefan, proving he was much stronger than she'd thought even a few tense moments ago.

He carried the frightened and shaking man away from the smoke and fire, out into the fresh air, setting him gently on a stack of pallets moved by Mihal and another man. Crouching in front of Stefan, Jacob checked that he was uninjured, only scared, while Mihal and the others milled around. Some watched the fire, and others cast wary glances at their newest employee. Someone passed Jacob a bottle of water, and he urged Stefan take a drink.

A horrendous creak of metal on metal startled the group. They watched with their mouths open, transfixed as the whine of the lift's engine rose until it became painful, and then it exploded, sending shrapnel in all directions. Everyone ran for cover.

One especially large ragged piece of metal hurtled toward the office.

Antonia took a terrified step back and another. The remote hit the floor as she turned and ran from the room. She grabbed Andrei, pushing him ahead of her out of the office while casting frightened glances over her shoulder, slamming the door behind them.

Andrei pulled free of her vise like grip. "Nia, what's going on?"

She gripped Andrei's arm again, and they both jumped at a deafening boom! She waited for the crash and tinkle of breaking glass, but when it didn't come, she let Andrei go. They shared a puzzled glance. The same emotion for different reasons. Ignoring her brother, Antonia hurriedly made her way around the side of the warehouse to the open loading dock, Andrei dogging her the entire way, peppering her with questions for which she didn't have answers.

Antonia came to a stop as they rounded the corner, taking in the scene, and still not understanding why there'd been no crash. The shrill up and down shriek of sirens came from the center of town, having been summoned by the fire suppressant system, getting louder with each passing second.

Then, they saw it. A huge piece of metal lay on the floor Jacob standing between it and the office window, panting hard. His the left sleeve of his shirt was ripped to tatters, and he was soaked from head to foot. He pulled the edges of the material together while avoiding making eye contact with anyone. The others cast uneasy glances from Jacob to the chunk of metal to Antonia and back again, lingering longest on Jacob.

Expecting the floor to be covered in blood, she was surprised to see there was none mixed with the growing puddles of water. "What happened?" she whispered under her breath.

Mihal left Stefan and came to her side. Keeping his voice low, he said, "You won't believe it. I watched it happen, and I don't believe it." He waved at the others who stood transfixed at the scene, except for Stefan, who was still sitting on the stack of pallets, drinking water, and rubbing his eyes with the heel of his free hand.

Annoyed and frustrated, though not as much as the night before, Antonia demanded, "Tell me."

The foreman shook his head in awe and wonder. "Watch the security tape."

Antonia looked around for Jacob, but he was gone, the wet imprints of his boots disappearing around the side of the warehouse. She and Andrei shared yet another look, and together, they marched back the way they'd come and into the office. Andrei reached the security monitors before she did, using the remote to rewind to before the explosion.

They watched with a mixture of slack-jawed terror and wonderment when Jacob moved in between the flying chunk of metal and the office. He turned to the right, taking the full force of the impact on his left arm and shoulder.

Jacob kept turning to the right until he was facing the window, breathing hard, the expression in his eyes transforming from remarkably detached, calm, and focused to relief at seeing the office was empty. Realizing he was on camera, he looked down at his left arm, pulling the edges of the shredded material together over the bicep and forearm. For a second, Antonia thought she saw metal, but then it was gone, and she was sure it had been her imagination.

She saw Andrei and herself join the men outside the loading dock. While everyone was focused on the man who fell, Jacob took off. Antonia didn't realize she was staring in the direction Jacob had gone with a deep longing in her eyes. This show of bravery, strength, and heroism had kicked her longing and desire for Jacob into high gear.

The Bennett Home

Joliet, Illinois

With Christine spending most of her time between the lab and Eli's doctor's appointments, and Oliver closeted in the den working, Dylan was pretty much left to run the house on his own. He cooked, cleaned, and helped the boys with their homework, except for history. Kaitlyn still avoided speaking to him unless he spoke to her first, even during meals, going out of her way to exclude him from conversations. Not that he had much to talk about. His life since coming to live with the Bennetts consisted of cleaning, cooking, helping take care of Eli, and going shopping with either Christine or Oliver.

At the moment, Christine was in her home office going over Eli's most recent tests with two colleagues, Kyle and Darren, the trio emerging for food and drinks, and no conversation. After which, they would vanish into the office once again.

Dylan understood, and so did the boys. Kaitlyn, not so much. The girl had been short-tempered since the day he arrived, and it had only gotten worse. Oliver explained that the girl was nearly at her wits' end from waiting for a teacher or headmistress from an exclusive school to call with the news she'd been accepted. She bit everyone's head off more than a few times. Dylan's more than any other. Each time, one of her parents reprimanded her, and when they were out of earshot, she once more took her frustrations out on the only person she didn't fully trust: the foster child.

He bore the abuse stoically, never retaliating verbally or physically. He understood her frustration. He felt it himself every time the family talked about an event in their past, and didn't hold it against her.

The creak of Eli's wheelchair came down the hall to the kitchen where Dylan was sorting the laundry, preparing to start a load.

"Hey, Dylan, need your help."

Glancing over his shoulder, the boy didn't appear to be in distress. In fact, since the new treatments began, his features had filled out, and his skin had a healthy glow. Dylan dropped clothes in a pile and went to the boy's side. "What's up, little man?"

Eli looked over his shoulder and motioned Dylan down. He dropped to one knee and leaned close. "I haven't told Mom and Dad, but I'm feeling stronger. Not sick all the time like I was. Sometimes I turn off my oxygen and don't have trouble breathing. Could you help me go for walks a couple times a day?"

Relieved that it wasn't something earth-shattering, Dylan readily agreed. "I would be happy to assist. But why not tell your family?"

"'Cause I wanna surprise them. Um, can we go up and down the stairs too?"

"Absolutely." Dylan raised a qualifying finger. "If you help me with the laundry."

The boy stuck out his hand with a grin. "Deal."

They shook on it, and Dylan got behind the chair to push him into the laundry room. "You know, I could use an assistant chef to help with the cooking as well."

"That'd be cool. Mom and Dad think I'm too sick to do anything around the house. I want them to know I can handle it."

"They will be ecstatic when they see how far you've come."

Eli locked the chair's wheels and used the front of the washer to help him stand, taking the clothes Dylan handed him and dropping them in. "Hope so."

The Parker Apartment

Queens, New York

Sitting on the side of Peter's bed with the mask in hand, May let her mouth fall open, stunned by what Karen had told her. She closed her mouth, swallowed hard, and cleared her throat. "I… don't know what to say. Peter really got all these powers from being bitten by a radioactive spider?"

"On a field trip with his AP science class, yes."

The mention of the field trip tripped May's memory. "I remember now. He was sick a couple of days after. Thought he had the flu."

"You're not completely wrong, Ms. Parker. His system reacted to the spider's venom in much the same way a body does to a vaccine. Instead of giving him immunity to the venom as if it were a disease, it incorporated the spider's attributes into Peter's DNA."

Getting to her feet, May walked to the window, the mask held in one hand. "I still have questions, but you've given me more than enough to think about for now." She went to the closet and took out the suit, holding it up while looking at herself in the mirror, smirking at her reflection. "You know, Karen, I could totally rock this look."

"I agree. However, you don't possess the enhanced physical and mental abilities necessary to engage in crime fighting."

May sighed and hung the suit back in the closet. "I can dream though." The mask joined the suit on the hanger. "Thanks for the talk. Let's do it again sometime, when Peter's not around."

"I would enjoy that as well."

May heard Peter's key in the front door just as she stepped into the hall, feeling a little better about her nephew's nighttime activities, though she would still worry.

"May! You home?"

Smiling with affection, she called out, "Yeah. What do you say to going out to dinner tonight?" He came into sight, his backpack slung over one shoulder. "Unless you're on patrol."

Peter dropped his eyes, and one toe poked at a flaw in the wood floor, making it painfully obvious that he wasn't comfortable with the conversation. "Um, not until, you know, later, so, uh, dinner out is great."

She swung his bedroom door open with a small flourish. "Then get on that homework or," she leveled a mock stern gaze on him, "no crime fighting for at least a week."

His jaw-drop was hilarious, and May held on as long as she could before busting out laughing. Peter joined her, and the tension eased up. He went into his room and closed the door.

Locul Liniștit Hostel

Giurgiu, Romania

Sitting in an out of the way corner of the common area, Bucky scanned the television channels for news on the explosion at the warehouse. So far, there had only been an offhand remark that no one had been seriously injured and that the Vasilescu's planned to have their business back up and running normally in just a few days. The anchor hadn't even mentioned any names. Not even Antonia and Andrei's.

Relief flowed through him, though he still kept a wary eye on everyone coming and going. He'd just come to the decision that it would be best for him to move on now instead of waiting until he'd saved enough to live on when he got to Bucharest. Hopefully, the job he had waiting would begin immediately, and he wouldn't have to sleep in the woods or hide out in someone's shed.

A young man from Sweden who didn't speak any of the languages in which Bucky was fluent gestured at the remote. He passed it over and shuffled toward the lockers. He'd just stuck the key in the one assigned to him when he felt someone coming up behind him. Sensing just a touch of yearning, but with an underlying level of danger that was at odds with what he thought he knew about…

"Going somewhere, Jacob?"

He withdrew his hand, closed the locker, and pocketed the key with a sigh. "You knew I was leaving some day."

Antonia came around to where he could see her. "I talked to the men. Your name wasn't mentioned when the police came to take our statements. They want to keep their jobs." Her lips pursed with humor and smugness. "Too bad the security system shorted out. Missed all of the action." She glanced over her shoulder and back, waiting until he looked her in the eye. "However you did what you did, it's our little secret."

Bucky looked down when she took hold of his hand. This close to her, their skin touching, he again experienced a shimmy along his nerves, the one that signaled danger. He didn't give it much credence because the same thing happened with Natasha from the day he'd saved them from the explosion at the abandoned hospital. It happened every time they touched, yet on a much deeper level than with Antonia. Their eyes met again, and he smiled. "Mulţumesc."

"I should be thanking you for saving my life and that of my brother." Antonia tugged and he let her lead him out to her car. Concerned that she wanted more than he was willing to give at this moment, he asked, "Where are we going?"

"To the bar for a drink, and maybe a dance or two, but no more. Let's take this slow and see where it may go."

He opened the driver's door for her and closed it. Then went around to the passenger side. Once the car was in motion, he finally relaxed. "Sounds like a plan."

Plainfield County Correctional Facility

Solitary Confinement

Bam-bam-bam!

Sonja jerked awake at the pounding on the door of her cell, rolling away from the wall. The guard was peering through the tiny window. "Up and at 'em, Sandberg. You got a visitor."

She stood up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and leaning against the sink for support through the dizziness. "My lawyer?"

The guard snorted while opening the door. "Do I look like your social secretary?" She motioned her colleagues to her as Sonja shuffled across the cold, hard floor and held her hands out. "Warden says you got company and sent me to bring you. That's all I gotta know to do my job."

Weak, though not wanting to go through the humiliation of being dragged again, Sonja used every ounce of will to put one foot in front of the other.

"And don't try faking sick to get out of solitary again, Sandberg. We're onto your tricks."

Ignoring the woman's taunts, which she tossed out each time Sonja asked to be taken to the infirmary, she kept her eyes on the floor, hoping the dizziness would stop soon, or the doctor would find the cause.

In the visitor's room, she sank into the hard chair the guards showed her to with a sigh of relief. The phone rang and she picked up the receiver without even a glance at the person on the other side. She looked up sharply at hearing a familiar voice.

"Hello, Sonja." Unfriendly blue eyes peered at her through the grimy glass. "I see prison life hasn't been kind."

Sonja swallowed the bile that threatened to choke her before responding. "What are you doing here?" At first, there was no response, and her visitor's features seemed to say that she didn't know herself why she was there. "Come to gloat, Christine?"

TBC

Locul Liniștit Hostel = The Quiet Place Hostel

Hostels provide lower-priced, sociable accommodation where guests can rent a bed, usually a bunk bed, in a dormitory and share a bathroom, lounge and sometimes a kitchen. Rooms can be mixed or single-sex, and private rooms may also be available.

Many hostels are family owned or run, and are often cheaper for both the operator and occupants than hotels; hostels may have long-term residents who they employ as desk agents or housekeeping staff in exchange for the experience or discounted accommodation.

In the Indian subcontinent and South Africa, hostel also refers to boarding schools or student dormitories in resident colleges and universities. In other parts of the world, the word hostel mainly refers to properties offering shared accommodation to backpackers or other low-budget travelers.

"Centerfield" is the title track from John Fogerty's album Centerfield, and is one of the best-known baseball songs. In 2010, Fogerty became the only musician to be celebrated at the Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony when "Centerfield" was honored by the National Baseball Hall of Fame.