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. Thanks also to Winter-Soldier-88 and karina001 for the brainstorming.
Year From Hell: Season 3, in progress. Please stand by…
Note: I'm issuing a warning for this chapter due to it containing dark subject matter.
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 71
"Sam. Hi." Peter looked from Sam to Felicia. "Do you know each other?"
Felicia gave him a lopsided smile. "Not until we shared an elevator."
From the kitchen, May called out, "Peter, are you getting the door? Forgot to tell you Sam's coming to dinner."
Without taking his eyes off their guests, Peter called over his shoulder, "He's here! And so is my guest."
"Be right there." May came from the kitchen just as Peter was taking Felicia's jacket. Sam took his off, handing it over with one eyebrow lifted. Peter put the jackets in the closet and hustled back out to the living room in time to see Sam giving May a quick kiss on the cheek. Then, she turned her gaze on Felicia, who gave it back, and more.
"Uh, May, this is my friend Felicia. Felicia, my Aunt May." In his mind, Peter pictured the two women retreating to opposite corners to prepare to fight for his affections, but with different motivations. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of two women fighting over him, no matter why. "Felicia and Sam rode up in the elevator together, so they've already met."
May motioned their guests to the living room. Sam took a seat at one end of the sofa while Felicia sat in an armchair after May moved a basket of knitting taking up space. His aunt didn't hide her surprise that his study buddy was a girl. "So, Felicia, how long have you known my nephew?"
"Not long, Ms. Parker. We met a few weeks ago at school. He almost knocked me down in the hall."
Smiling, May turned to Peter while talking to Felicia, "Funny, he's never mentioned you, and went out of his way not to tell me you're a girl."
Rolling his eyes at her, he hissed, "Ma-ay! She's not here to be interrogated. We're gonna eat and study."
"Just trying to get to know her, Peter. Is that a crime?"
Not honoring her sarcastic remark with a response, Peter jumped up when the timer dinged. "I'll check the food and get us something to drink."
Felicia pushed to her feet. "I'll help."
~~O~~
Felicia busied herself with putting ice in the glasses Peter set on the counter while he opened the oven. Her mouth watered at the warmth and aromas of garlic, oregano, thyme, basil, and tomatoes wafting through the apartment, courtesy of a huge pan of cheesy baked lasagna. A baking sheet held twisted garlic bread sticks that weren't even beginning to brown. She hadn't had a home-cooked meal since she couldn't remember.
That wasn't completely true, but then the last meal she'd shared with anyone in a family style setting had been over a year ago. When the washing up had been done and she was on her way to bed, the couple told her she had to move out within two weeks to make room for a baby coming in. It was also the last time she'd slept in a real bed and the reason she wanted to come to Peter's. The last thing she did before leaving was report them to the social worker because she found that they'd reported her as a runaway. Felicia had watched from a discrete hiding place as the city removed all the foster kids from their home. The last she heard, they were being investigated by Children's Protective Services, and that was one of the few things that made her happy. Having Peter and Ned as friends was another.
Plus there was the whole living in an abandoned gas station thing. If Peter knew, he'd feel sorry for her, and she wanted more from him than that. Much more, only just now coming to that realization, growling internally because she was highly attracted to both Peter and Spidey. Sure, she knew it could happen, but hadn't experienced the phenomenon before. Considering her past, and her vow to focus on graduating and getting into a halfway decent college, this was all going way too fast with either or both of them.
Peter took a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator, drawing her attention back to the mundane. As he filled each glass, she put it on a tray she found in one of the cabinets. Casting a quick glance at the couple on the sofa, she picked up the sweetener, put it on the tray, and added spoons. Leaning close, she whispered, "I know we don't know each other that well, but…"
"Why do I live with my aunt?" She nodded and brushed the shorter hairs around her face behind her ears. Seeing the sadness in his eyes, she regretted asking. Peter looked at her and down at her hand still touching the tray. "My parents died in a plane crash when I was just a kid. May's husband, my Uncle Ben, died a few months after. He was killed by a burglar. I, uh, I was sorta named after him."
"Sorta?"
"My middle name's Benjamin."
Sorry she'd asked, Felicia touched him on the arm with a sympathetic smile to let him know she understood. "My mom's been gone so long I don't remember her, and don't even get me started about my dad." Though Felicia left the way open for him to reciprocate with personal questions of his own, he let it go.
"Another thing we have in common." He sighed, picked up the tray, pasted on a smile, and together, they returned to the living room. By the look in his eyes, Felicia knew Peter wasn't sure if he approved of the man his aunt was dating, especially now that Sam had his arm around May in a way that was unmistakably non-platonic.
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum
New York City
Crouched in the inky shadows just a few blocks from Stark Tower, Steve pulled a knit cap down over his hair and took out a pair of gloves while Darcy typed rapidly on a mini-laptop. Both were dressed all in black. Sneakers and the grass muffled their steps. One hand holding the handle of a shovel, he whispered, "I can't believe I let you talk me into this, Darce."
"Believe it, Steve, 'cause we're here," she reminded him without looking up from her task. "With me supplying the brains and you bringing the brawn, we'll be done in five, ten minutes tops."
"What if we get caught?"
Darcy hit enter and finally looked at him, with a grin. "I trust you to talk us out of it. Offer him or her an autograph and a selfie."
He went down on one knee to peer over her shoulder at the screen, but couldn't make heads or tails of what he was seeing. What looked like random lines of letters and numbers scrolled up from the bottom, disappearing at the top. Only God and Darcy knew what she was up to and neither was saying. "Or, and this is the more likely scenario, just off the top of my head, you know, we could get arrested for trespassing. The Avengers don't need any more bad press."
"So, Captain America spending the night in the Graybar Inn would be bad press?" Guilt caused Steve to clear his throat. He couldn't meet her eyes, and she latched onto his inability to lie. "Might as well come clean, Rogers." Still, Steve hesitated. "Or would you rather I found out on my own?"
Somehow, Darcy always got her way and tonight was proof, here and now, and why they were hiding in the dark across the street from the Guggenheim. "A few months before I enlisted, I, uh, spent a night in the Brooklyn lockup."
She snorted, covered her mouth with her hand, and looked around to make sure no one had heard. "What for? Shoplifting? Not returning milk bottles? Jaywalking? Foolishly using your sugar rations to make cookies for your dates who ditched you, taking the cookies, and telling the other guys they made them?"
Shaking his head, Steve sighed without responding, and confessed, "Started a bar fight. Me and Bucky, but mostly me."
The Parker Apartment
Queens
To Peter's surprise, dinner conversation had been somewhat lively, pushing out some, but not all, of the awkwardness. May sent Felicia and he to study in his room while she and Sam washed the dishes and cleaned up.
He escorted Felicia to the room, which he'd finished cleaning less than five minutes before their guests arrived. To make absolutely certain the suit was well hidden, he shoved it into the ceiling of May's room. "Have a seat. Um, want a drink refill before we get started?"
"I'm good, but you go ahead." Felicia started to close the door, then seemed to think better of it and swung it wide with a smirk. "Don't want the mother unit to get ideas."
That Felicia would give voice to his unspoken thoughts unnerved him. Could she read his mind?
She took a seat with one foot tucked under and scooted up to the desk. "No, I can't read minds." Her finger made a circle. "It's all over your face."
Startled, Peter cleared his throat, booted up the computer, and dragged his backpack to him, muttering under his breath, "That's a relief."
They were deep into the regional and transregional interactions from c. 600 to c. 1450 C.E. when Peter felt someone coming down the hall. It was May. She gifted them with a smile and pulled the door shut. He wouldn't have minded so much, if it wasn't for the sense that she'd done it not to give Felicia and him privacy, but for herself and Sam.
He looked at Felicia, and she looked back, one eyebrow twitching upward. Without comment, they went back to work.
~~O~~
Tossing her pen on the desk, Felicia yawned, rubbed her eyes, and stood to stretch. How Peter could sit hunched over the computer that long without getting sore was a mystery. "I'm ready for that drink now."
Peter's eyes widened in something close to horror, his gaze flicking to the door and back. "Um…"
"Relax. I'll go. Then, if they're snogging, you won't have to see it."
His shoulders sagged in relief. "Thanks. It-it's not that I don't want her to date," he gestured helplessly. "Sam's my friend and it's just, you know, weird knowing they might be…"
"Moving from snogging to shagging? Or would you prefer a baseball metaphor?" She had her hand on the doorknob and was smiling, again as if she could read his mind. "If they are, I'll spare you the details."
"Thanks," Peter sighed again as she closed the door just hard enough to give May and Sam warning that she was coming. Okay, Parker, it's now or never. Ask her tonight. The worst she could do is say no.
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum
New York City
"We were released the next day on our own recognizance."
"Seriously?"
Steve nodded, embarrassed at his confession. "Yeah. Bucky and I arrived early for our double date, and these guys were harassing a couple of young women who just wanted to be left alone. The ringleader pushed me down and Bucky decked him. I stood up and took a swing at the guy's buddy, and the next thing I know…"
"I'm sure the ill-mannered, meddlesome, and the just plain curious have all looked into your past, and no one thinks less of you, do they?" He had to admit she was right. Not even Tony had brought it up. Nor had Maria, but then she wouldn't because she'd been in jail a couple times herself. Darcy's foot tapped his knee, and he looked up to see her smiling. "Then don't worry about it. Everyone has something in their past that might be considered morally sketchy. Look at Erik. He spent quality time in a mental hospital, and he's still working for SHIELD." Her eyes rolled up and back down. "Such as it is."
The computer beeped, putting an end to their conversation. Darcy closed the laptop, shoved it into the backpack, and got to her feet. Steve joined her, both looking over the wall that hid them from the traffic on 5th Avenue. "Relax, Steve. In a few minutes, the guards will have better things to do than chase off a couple of trespassers who are digging in the garden."
"You're sure you want to do this? It's not too late to change your mind," Steve urged, using the same tone and smile Maria once told him reminded her of a puppy.
"Absolutely. It's Mom's final wish." Her hand slapped his chest then pointed to the now dark museum. "This'll be a quick, what do they call it? Infiltration?"
Steve laid the shovel on the wall and when he turned back, Darcy had her hands out like a kid asking to be picked up. "As long as we have an exit strategy." With his hands under her arms and hers on his shoulders, he easily lifted her onto the wall. He jumped over himself, and helped her down. A car came down the street and they hid their faces until it passed.
With Darcy leading the way, they jogged across 5th Avenue to the small planter on the side of the museum. She turned her back to keep a look-out and he jumped on the wall so he'd have leverage for digging. Their work hopefully wouldn't be noticed for a while because all the winter plants had been taken up.
Over her shoulder, Darcy whispered, "Make it deep so the landscapers don't find it by accident."
"We could bury her ashes in the park across the street. She wouldn't be on the property, but there's less of a chance that it'll be found, and at least she'll be in viewing distance."
The look she shot him said she hadn't thought of that possibility. "You know, you're right. She'll still be close to her fav art museum and become part of the environment. Ashes to ashes and all that." Straightening her spine that had slumped in renewed grief she waved him down with excitement in her eyes that had been lacking until now. "I know the perfect spot for Mom to spend eternity."
Just then, a bright light flashed in Steve's eyes. "You there! What're you doing? This property is off limits after closing time."
The Parker Apartment
Queens
Having stifled a yawn too many times, Felicia pushed back from the desk and stood, stretching her arms over her head. "Time for me to get home."
Peter held her backpack open and she shoved everything in. He zipped it up and they stood together. He helped her on with her jacket and the backpack, and held the door open. In the living room, May was watching the news alone. "Where's Sam?"
"He has work in the morning," she told them with a smile, her eyes lighting on the backpack as she stood. "It was nice meeting you, Felicia."
"You too, Ms. Parker. Thanks for dinner."
May walked with them to the door. "My pleasure. Be careful going home. Come see us again."
"I will."
In the hall, Peter pushed the down button and the elevator clanked and rattled to their floor. They got on and rode to the lobby. As he reached past her to open the front door, Felicia sensed there was something he wanted to say and had a hunch what it was.
"Um, Felicia…"
"We should go on a date," she interrupted. "You and me."
Eyes wide, he gaped at her with his mouth open in surprise. "I was gonna ask you."
Hands gripping the straps of her backpack, she tilted her head to the side with the merest trace of a smirk. "Well, that answers one of my unspoken questions."
"Wh-which one?"
"Do you like me enough to go out with me?"
Peter's eyes dropped to his feet, a light blush showing in the glow from the streetlamps. "Oh. Yeah, I do. Like you, I mean." He gestured for her to go ahead and came up next to her. "Um, I'll walk you to the subway, if that's okay."
Taking his hand, she softened her smile. "Very much okay," she told him in all sincerity. They walked almost a block before she asked, "So, want to see a movie Saturday afternoon?"
The eagerness in his expression almost made her laugh. "Yeah, absolutely! Got something you want to see? 'Cause I'm okay with whatever."
This time, she did laugh, and hugged his arm. "You're my kind of date, Peter."
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum
New York City
Slowly, so as not to make the guard suspicious, Steve eased Darcy behind him. Holding the shovel out of sight hopefully made it look like he was standing at parade rest and not hiding something. He smiled and nodded, not changing his expression when Darcy took the shovel from him and pressed her back against his. Through his clothes, he could feel her breaths coming faster. He let his hand briefly touch her hip and she relaxed just a bit. At least now she wouldn't hyperventilate. "Evening, officer."
The man's scowl deepened. "ID," he demanded, one hand extended palm up.
"It's in my back pocket," Steve told him as he slowly pulled out his wallet with two fingers. He flipped the leather open and held it out for the guard to see.
The flashlight shone on the leather and Steve could see the face of thirtyish man in a security uniform peering at him curiously. "Hey! You're Captain America!"
Curious how the man could have come to that conclusion, Steve looked at his license and huffed. His official DMV photo had been replaced by one of him in the uniform he call his stealth suit, but without the helmet. With a sheepish grin, he returned the wallet to his pocket. "Uh, yeah."
"My son's a big fan." The smile turned back to puzzlement. "Why're you dressed like a second-story man?"
Steve forced himself not to react when Darcy poked him with her elbow. He shrugged and pulled off the cap, holding it and smiling sheepishly, "Didn't want the press to follow me on my walk. Know what I mean?"
"Um, not really." He turned off the flashlight and shoved it into the ring hanging from his belt. "The museum's closed."
The pressure against his back vanished and he heard Darcy's light footsteps moving away, stopping near the car parked by the emergency exit. The guard didn't react, meaning he hadn't heard. Steve shoved the cap in his back pocket as he walked around the other man until his back was to Darcy, gesturing at the front of the building. "I was just admiring the architecture when the lights went out."
Darcy tiptoed behind the guard as Steve moved in the opposite direction so the guard's back faced the park again.
"Yeah. Just a glitch in the system, or so says the IT gal on call. She works remotely and says it'll be up and running in a few. Boss sent me out to do a quick perimeter check, just in case it's not a glitch." Saying it apparently reminded him of his duties. He clicked the radio affixed to the shoulder of his jacket. "Kearney to Darden. All clear on 5th. Heading down the alley."
"Roger, Kearney."
Steve's co-conspirator was standing at the wall that came up to her nose. She made an exaggerated shrug and went to hide behind the nearest tree. To the guard, he said, "Appreciate you not mentioning this to your superiors, but I wouldn't want you to get in trouble on my account."
"No biggie, Captain Rogers." The man looked around and leaned close, as if telling a secret. "On the other hand, if you wanna maybe stop by some time when I'm on duty, I'd be happy to show you around. Kinda like a private tour."
Touched at his generous offer, Steve vowed to take him up on it. "Could I bring a friend, Officer Kearney?
"Call me Ted," he said with a smile, his hand extended. "Come in any evening after five, except Sunday and Monday."
"I will, Ted. And thanks." At that moment, the lights came back on.
Ted smiled and said, "Bingo!"
"Looks like you're back in business."
Ted shrugged and took out his flashlight. "No rest for the wicked, huh? Well, have a good night, Captain Rogers."
Steve waited until Ted had disappeared into the dark, then turned and jogged across 5th. He checked that no one was around before motioning Darcy out of her hiding place. He put her over the wall and jumped after her, and picked up the shovel. When she reached the spot she'd chosen to bury her mother's ashes, she stood staring at the ground for a moment then looked over her shoulder at him. Steve took off his jacket, pushed up his sleeves, and started digging.
~~O~~
With the hole filled in, Darcy stood there for a few moments, saying a silent prayer. Steve, bless him, had stepped away to give her privacy after doing the digging. When she was ready to leave, he provided a comforting presence on such an emotional night.
Not a word passed between them. Steve held out his hand and she took it. At the car, he put her in the passenger seat of the VW. She gave him the keys and he drove them back to her apartment.
At the main entrance, Darcy motioned for Steve to lean down, and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for everything, Steve."
He nodded once, picked up the shovel, and jogged to his car parked in the visitor's lot. He threw the shovel in the back, got behind the wheel, and was gone.
Darcy let herself into the lobby, stopping to pick up her mail, shuffling through it as she climbed to the third floor. Excitement squeezed her chest making it hard to breathe when she spotted the return address for the DNA processing center.
Once inside her apartment, she forced herself to get ready for bed and program the coffee maker for morning. Then she made a cup of decaf tea and took down the tin of cookies, carrying it all back to the sofa.
Darcy sipped the tea, took a bite of cookie, and sat there staring at the envelope that could either be cause for celebration or a big, fat disappointment. "Good thing I don't have to work in the morning. Probably won't sleep after this, no matter what it says."
She fortified herself with another sip of tea and bite of cookie, took a deep breath, and tore open the envelope.
Istitutul de Psihiatrie Pajişte
Slobozia, Romania
The Next Morning
Dr. Omor Szabó stood as Antonia was escorted into the office, reluctantly to go by the look on her face as the orderly dragged her by the arm. He released her so suddenly she stumbled, glaring a hole in his back as he left them alone. Szabó smiled blandly, saying in a neutral tone, "It's good to see you again, Antonia. You're looking well, considering the circumstances."
The glare was turned in his direction, her eyes dropping to his outstretched hand without taking it. She let herself down on the sofa with a grunt and crossed her knees and arms. "Can't say the same, doctor. Why're you here?"
Szabó seated himself in the comfortable swivel armchair and picked up a pen and pad. "Inspector Zaituc asked me to speak with you because I'm familiar with your history. We spoke of this many years ago and you were unconvinced by my diagnosis. Called me a quack, if I recall."
"Do you blame me?" Antonia rolled her eyes. "You said I had several distinct personalities. How is that even possible? I'm me! No one else."
"If that were true, then why would the police ask me to evaluate you before filing charges?" She dropped her eyes and looked away. "The human brain has been likened to a computer, but it is much more complex than any artificial device. We're still not sure exactly what causes DID, Dissociative Identity Disorder. Why some people develop it and others don't under eerily similar circumstances. Not definitively." No comment came from Antonia, but the top foot, which had been bouncing up and down, stopped. "When we last spoke, you called me some very colorful names."
Antonia snorted and got up to look out the window. "I'd be happy to repeat them or others, if you prefer. I've learned a lot since we last saw each other." She turned back, arms still crossed. "Let's just get this over with."
He consulted a computer tablet. "At our last session, I spoke with Maricara, Vară, Constantine, Zina, and Ester, but Inspector Zaituc tells me there are more."
One shoulder lifted and dropped as she moved back to the sofa with a huff. "You're the doctor. Apparently, I'm just an innocent bystander in my own life."
"I'm sorry you feel that way." Clicking the remote, he started recording. Szabó picked up a small box from the desk, opened the top, and reached inside, pulling out the contents while speaking in a soothing, calm voice, "Breathe deeply, Antonia. Let a positive, pleasurable feeling flow throughout your body. Every muscle, every nerve will become relaxed. Your arms will lie limp on your thighs, like a rag doll. You will feel better than you have in many years."
He drew out a snow globe as if performing a magic trick. However, instead of saying "abracadabra", he shook it. "Watch the snow as it swirls and floats. Everything here is safe, calm, and peaceful. Let yourself sink into the cushions as you relax deeply."
Immediately, Antonia's body slumped, her eyes drooped, her breathing going into a slow and steady rhythm.
"Your eyes may feel heavy and want to close. Let your body sink naturally down as your muscles relax. Listen to your body and my voice as you begin to feel calm," Szabó whispered. "Would you like to watch the snow fall?"
Antonia's head fell forward, chin resting on her chest, hands lying on her thighs.
"Antonia?"
"Hmm?" she responded in a flat and unemotional tone.
Using the key on the bottom, Szabó wound the globe so it would continue to toss the flakes of white around, giving the illusion that it was indeed snowing inside the glass sphere. "Are you alone?"
She shook her head slowly, her voice sounding far away. "No."
"Who's there with you?"
She chuckled, her mouth turning up in a wry smile. "All of them. They never leave me alone. Always taking over, running things the way they want, ignoring the fact that it's my life."
Her eyes flew open and Antonia got to her feet, hands clenched into fists, anger and annoyance in her expression. "Life? Ha! What kind of life does she have? Without us, she'd never have any fun. When she wasn't at work, she'd be at home with a bunch of cats."
Recognizing the attitude, he ventured, "Maricara?"
Hands on hips, she glared at him as she paced back and forth in front of the sofa. "Who else would I be?"
"You tell me. I've been told there are some new… residents since last we spoke."
Maricara stopped in front of Szabó, arms crossed, all weight on one foot. "Duh. Ya think? Suppose you want to meet them."
"Would that be possible?"
"Dunno. Let me ask." She returned to her seat on the sofa, eyes closed, breathing deeply, holding it, and letting it out. The third breath ended on a small gasp as she looked around, eyes darting over the room. They locked onto Szabó, narrowing in confusion. At seeing the diplomas on the wall, those eyes widened. "Oh, geez. Zina was right. Yer gonna make us disappear, ain'tcha?"
It was Szabó's turn to be confused. He recognized the language as English, though he didn't speak it. Holding up a finger to let this new personality know to give him a moment, Szabó pressed the intercom. "Send in someone who speaks English, please." In the blink of an eye, Antonia's entire manner changed and she switched back to Romanian. "Dammit, Vito! The doctor doesn't speak whatever those noises are you're making. Let me do the talking."
Into the intercom, Szabó said, "Never mind." Giving the impression of being calm and relaxed, he crossed one leg over the other. "Vito is…" he prompted.
"From New York. Doesn't speak Romanian and barely speaks English."
Szabó made a few notes on the pad. "Are you aware that Antonia is being accused of killing more than twenty men?"
A laugh burst out of Maricara as she shot to her feet walked to the window, take note of the security measures to keep the prisoners from escaping. "Antonia's too much of a coward to hurt anyone, much less kill someone."
"Then who did?"
She turned away from the window, chin lifted, with pride or as a challenge, he didn't know, until she spoke again.
"I'm surprised you even have to ask that, doctor. It was me." Her eyes darkened, taking on a wicked gleam, as did the upturn of her lips. "I killed them, and no, I'm not sorry."
TBC
Romanian from Google Translate:
Istitutul de Psihiatrie Pajişte = Meadow Psychiatric Institute