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 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 73

Embers Restaurant

Bronx, New York

The hostess escorted the couple to their table and passed them each a menu with a smile that was neither welcoming nor off-putting. "Is this your first time at Embers?"

Felicia smiled as she took the napkin from under her silverware and placed it in her lap. "Not for me." Peter shook his head. "Could we have some water while we look at the menu?"

"Of course," the woman told them.

The hostess was replaced by a server wearing a white tailored shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, black vest, pants, and shoes, carrying a pitcher of ice water. She talked as she filled their glasses. "Hi. My name is Erin. What can I get you to drink?"

Felicia reached for the drink menu, flipping it open to the wine list, taking only a few moments to make a choice. "We'll have two glasses of the house red, please."

Without skipping a beat, Erin paused with her pen over the pad. "I'll need to see both your IDs please."

Felicia closed the menu and handed it to Erin with a smile. "Of course." She reached into her purse, pulled out her wallet, and flipped it open to her driver's license, making sure that the other woman saw her credit cards. Erin did a mental calculation and made a note on the pad.

Peter cleared his throat to get her attention and she kicked him under the table. In Peter's eyes, Felicia saw the intent to out them as being under aged. He lacked the ability to BS with much believability. Before Peter said something to mess up her carefully constructed fabrication, Felicia pursed her lips and looked away for a moment, as if embarrassed for him. "I'm afraid my companion isn't quite twenty-one yet."

"The state of New York takes a dim view of serving alcohol to minors." Erin looked over at Peter. "So that's one glass of the house red for the lay. And what can I get you, sir?"

"Excuse me, um…" she looked questioningly at Erin, hoping Peter would interrupt, and he didn't let her down.

"Erin," he supplied.

This time, Felicia pretended she'd forced herself to meet the server's eyes. "How could I forget? That was my mother's name." To keep from having to listen to an expression of sympathy at her insinuation that her mother was deceased, she forged ahead, "I'd still like two glasses, please," she finished as she turned to her right. "Peter?"

Though he seemed confused by the turn of events, Peter addressed Erin with a smile, "A Coke for me, please."

Erin made a note, picked up the drink menus, and returned a tight smile. This told Felicia that she hadn't fooled the other woman a bit, but she wouldn't make a scene.

"Our specials tonight are Shrimp Puttanesca, Stuffed Pork Chops, and Beef Bourguignon. I'll give you a few minutes to decide and be right back with your drinks."

Peter, bless his poor, naïve soul, picked up his water glass, sipping until Erin was out of earshot.

~~O~~

Steve parked the car, turned off the engine, and went around to open Darcy's door. Before, she would get out and wait for him so they could walk together to the sports bar or coffee shop. Now that they were on a date, she finally let him be the gentleman his mother raised him to be. He extended his hand and she took it with a smile.

Inside, Darcy spoke to the hostess. "Lewis and Rogers. We have a reservation."

The hostess picked up a selection of menus with a smile of unconcealed interest… in Steve. She spared Darcy barely a glance, looking him in the eye. "This way please."

At Darcy's urging, they hung back a few steps. She whispered, "She's warm for your form, Rogers."

"Totally ignoring the fact that I'm with another woman," he reminded her with a sigh. The hostess stopped next to a table, waiting impatiently for them to join her.

~~O~~

Looking around to make sure they weren't overheard, Peter whispered incredulously, "You're twenty-one and still in high school?"

Again, Felicia pursed her lips to keep from grinning, letting her eyes do the work. "No, silly. It's a fake. A really good one."

He nodded and wiped his mouth with the napkin. "And the credit cards?"

"Even easier." Felicia pulled them out one at a time, just enough to he could see they did indeed have her name on them. "They're all debit cards. I have a part-time job, and don't like to keep all my cash in one place. You know, just in case."

To end the discussion, Felicia opened her menu, and Peter followed suit. "What d'you think of the stuffed pork chops?"

He watched her quickly scan the offerings. Then, she closed the menu and put it aside. "Shrimp Puttanesca sounds good." Peter choked on his water, and he could feel his face burning with embarrassment, while she looked at him curiously. "You okay?"

"Um," he coughed once more, took a sip of water, and wiped his mouth. "Yeah, it's just…" Though she was worldlier than he, Peter was reluctant to say this in front of anyone, much less the girl he was dating, because he didn't want her to think poorly of him. "Um, you see, Italian and Spanish are related languages, a-and…"

Felicia didn't help his stuttering by resting her chin in the palm of her hand and watching him with those green eyes he found so fascinating. Still keeping his voice low, Peter fiddled with the edge of the napkin, a nervous habit he'd been trying to break. "Puttanesca means…" there was nothing to do but forge ahead, "it mean 'in the style of the prostitute'. The ingredients are tomatoes, olive oil, anchovies, olives, capers, and garlic, all over pasta with chicken, beef, or pork."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh, well, when you put it that way, I'll take the Beef Bourguignon." With a smile of thanks, apparently because he hadn't wanted to speak crudely in front of her, Felicia took hold of his hand to stop the fidgeting. "The word bourguignonmeans a recipe prepared in the style of the French region of Bourgogne, Burgundy in English. It's one of France's major wine-making regions, and produces both red and white wines, although the wine most people associate with the word Burgundy is red. Any recipe made à la bourguignon generally features meat or poultry braised in red wine with mushrooms, onions, and bacon."

To Peter, her accent sounded perfect, bringing him to ask, "You speak French?"

"Exactament," she responded with a smile filled with pride. "Spanish?"

Returning her smile with one of her own, he said, "Sí, un poco." He twisted his water glass nervously. "The Beef Bourguignon sounds good. Most of the time May and I go out for Thai, sometimes Italian, or even Mexican."

"You should've said something. I'm picking the movie. It's only fair you choose the restaurant. We can finish our drinks and leave."

Felicia raised her hand to signal for a server and he rushed to stop her by taking her hand. She tugged, but refused to let go, and because he was much stronger than her, she relented. "Don't. This is fine.

Yet another server came by, set two glasses of wine in front of Felicia, a Coke in front of Peter, and walked away without a word. Felicia moved one of the wine glasses within his reach and set the soft drink out of the way.

A Cozy Home

Somewhere in the U.S.

"Her mother wouldn't have told her unless…" his voice trailed off as he sat heavily in a chair, one hand over his mouth to stop the words. It was a stalling technique because he couldn't just leave the end of the sentence unsaid. Luckily, he didn't have to.

"She's dying?" His favorite girl in the world sat next to him.

Then, a bolt of lightning came from out of nowhere, and he found himself jumping to his feet to pace in front of the window, rubbing the back of his neck. He changed course, going to his computer, tapping in a few commands.

She followed, keeping out of his way. That was only one of the innumerable things he loved about her. Another was her loyalty in sticking with him when he told her about the child he hadn't known about until her fourth birthday, and his reasons for not contacting the mother.

The computer dinged and displayed on the monitor was a photo of a very pretty young woman with dark hair. Her full mouth was turned up in smirk and there was intelligence and mischief in her blue eyes. At the bottom it listed the death of her mother and one other, but no living relatives were noted.

"Her obituary. I'm so sorry, honey." His love tabbed through a series of photos, stopping on a particular one. "Have a look at this one."

He had paced over to the wall, turned, and came back arms crossed while the image was projected onto the plasma screen on the wall. The image was quite unexpected, given the information displayed. "Sonofabitch! He lied to me!"

Crossing her arms in imitation of him, she shifted her weight onto one foot making that hip stick out. "Get over it, honey, and leave the man alone." Though sheer will power, she forced him to look at her. "You weren't there for her growing up…"

"That they know. I did grease a few wheels when she went back to school."

"You and I both know that you have no right to get all bent out of shape because of a photo published by a gossip blogger."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. At least permit me a period of outraged fatherly indignation, to get it out of my system. That way, I won't try to kill him the next time we see each other."

Then, she smiled, and just like that, he fell for her all over again. She walked toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I'll allow it, dependent upon what you've planned for dinner."

Embers Restaurant

Bronx, New York

A wallet landed on the floor next to a young woman seated at the nearest table and Steve stooped to pick it up. At a guess, the girl couldn't have been older than eighteen, if that. A strangled cough brought his attention to her companion. The young man got to his feet, stammering through a greeting.

"M-Mr. Rogers, Captain, sir, um, Amer…" Peter looked from Steve to Darcy to his companion and back to Steve. "Uh, oh! Um, Felicia, this is, C-Captain Steve Rogers. Captain Rogers, my friend Felicia H-Hardy."

The girl rose from her seat with the grace of a dancer, reminding Steve of Natasha in full Black Widow mode, a smile on her face, and right hand extended, peering at him with curiosity. "Captain Rogers. You look familiar."

Another male voice joined the slightly weird conversation, "Should be. He's Captain America."

"S-Sam," Peter looked to his left and nearly collapsed. "Oh, uh, hi, May." Apparently the boy was resigned to go with the flow, or as much as he was able. "May Parker, th-this is, um, Sam's friend, Steve Rogers. He's, you know, Captain America."

May smiled brightly, as if Steve were just an average man on the street, delighted at this chance meeting. "Pleasure to meet you, Captain Rogers."

Her eyes squinted curiously at Darcy and Steve took the hint. "Darcy, you know Sam." They went around the table finished up awkward introductions. "I'd ask everyone to join us, but…"

Sam punctured a hole in the uncomfortable silence by nudging Steve and pointing out the hostess, whose smile had dimmed at the delay. Steve handed Felicia the wallet he'd retrieved and nodded. "Pleasure to meet everyone. If you'll excuse us."

~~O~~

After seating Steve and Darcy, the hostess took charge of May and Sam, to Peter's relief because his aunt hadn't stopped staring at him and Felicia. She had one eyebrow raised and a look in her eyes that told him she'd no doubt follow up with an interrogation when they got home.

He was about to take his seat when May came back to the table, picked up the glasses of wine, and handed them to a server as he passed, telling him in no uncertain terms, "No matter what they've told you, they're under twenty-one."

She glared at both of them in turn, stopping on Felicia with her hand out. Reluctantly, and with none of the embarrassment Peter expected, Felicia handed over the fake ID. May slid the card into the pocket of her skirt and returned to the table she shared with Sam.

When Felicia looked at him again, Peter was surprised that she'd given in so easily. "I have three more at home. And we don't need wine to have a good time." Her eyes went to May who was alternately sipping wine and laughing at something Sam said, with the occasional glance in their direction. "Now can we go somewhere else?"

"Yes, please," he told her with feeling.

Out on the sidewalk, Peter let Felicia set their course and speed. With difficulty, he kept himself from looking over his shoulder to see if they were being watched or followed. She took his hand and he jumped. "Sorry." He seemed to be apologizing way too much.

"So, tell me, how do you know the Avengers?"

"Um, Captain Rogers is sorta, um, he and Sam are… well they're kinda my friends and, uh, mentors." That wasn't a complete lie, nor was it the whole truth. "Now Sam's dating my aunt."

Felicia chuckled and lightly bumped his shoulder, "How do you feel about that?"

The shoulder opposite the hand Felicia was holding shrugged. "It's been a few years since Uncle Ben died. I don't want or expect her to be alone forever. It's just that I never expected her to be dating a friend. It's weird."

She made no comment for about half a block where she pulled him to a stop. "Let's get theater food and eat while we watch."

Peter looked down into her face, and for a moment, he thought he could feel her long hair brushing over the backs of his hands, whisper soft, fluttering slightly in the light breeze as they kissed. He dismissed the notion as ridiculous. He'd only ever touched her hand, and absolutely hadn't kissed her. Not yet. If he acted like the gentleman May had taught him to be, he'd probably get a peck on the cheek at the end of the night, and he'd be happy with that and nothing more.

After the kisses he'd shared with Cat, he wanted to put off doing the same with Felicia, just in case it didn't measure up. He once heard of kisses so fantastic that a person used them as a guideline for all future kisses. Being as Cat was his first female non-relative, he'd been blown away, the possibility existed that hers would be the yardstick for all others for the rest of his life, and he wanted to hold off the disappointment as long as possible. He gave her a smile as he opened the theater door. "Hot dogs, nachos, and a drink sound perfect."

Village on the Hungarian Border

Secție de Poliție

Eddie knocked, and entered Vonda's office, closed the door, and waited to be acknowledged. Her eyes were closed, and on the desk was the bottle of Pálinka she kept in the bottom left drawer. As her friend and second-in-command, they'd often had a drink together after a particularly grueling shift. However, tonight was not one of those nights. It would be several hours before they could clock out and go home to their families.

"For God's sake, Eddie, quit lurking and sit down."

Her words lacked the force of an order, laced as they were with a weariness he'd only heard from her on a few occasions. He dropped into a chair at the conference table, placing the tablet and folder neatly in front of him. The creak of her chair was followed by liquid being poured into a cup. Then, Vonda joined him at the table with the bottle and two filled cups. She passed one to him and together they knocked it back.

Vonda pushed the bottle in his direction and he took the hint, pouring them each a refill. "The cybercrimes division is still hard at work, but the preliminary reports are leaning towards the allegations being true. How they could get to their positions without knowing that deleting something doesn't mean it disappears forever truly baffled her. With the right skills, which Nicu and her team have in abundance." He brought the cup to his lips for another sip and sighed. "They're fighting their way through wall after wall of encryption, but it's not looking good for any of them."

"Not a surprise, being as the head of the top security firm in Bihor County is one of our primary suspects."

Eddie snorted and sat up in his chair, feet on the floor. "He's good, but Roxanna is better." He powered up the tablet, tapping the screen to bring up the pertinent files. "As the video stated, this is our ringleader, Luca Cabuz."

He passed the tablet to Vonda. "Too bad he killed himself before our team arrived. I'd love nothing more than to see him imprisoned for the rest of his life, sitting in solitary confinement being tortured day in and day out with the heinous acts he committed."

"The rest will pay dearly for their lack of morals." Eddie changed screens. "Cabuz made one call before shooting himself in the head."

The desk phone rang, and he pushed out of his chair to answer it. "Inspector Butacu's office…"

~~O~~

While Eddie answered the phone, Vonda thought how blessed she was to have a job, family, and friends she cherished, and a best friend who always seemed to know what she was thinking, at times, making words superfluous. At his gasp, she swiveled the chair around. He hung up the phone and came to sit next to her again, his expression grave.

"That was the sanitarium. Mirena Cabuz tried to kill herself by making a noose of the bedsheets. She removed the mattress and bedding, set the frame on end, tied the sheet to the rails and around her neck, and simply let herself hang. She's being taken to intensive care." Sitting heavily in his chair, Eddie swallowed another mouthful of the Pálinka. "The doctor on-call revived her, but she's on a ventilator. They can't say without further tests and observations if she'll live. The tentative prognosis is that she won't regain consciousness, and if she does, the brain damage could be extensive."

Vonda stared at the tabletop, arms crossed, and mind awhirl. "I knew her before she married Cabuz. We went to school together until I went off to university. She was always a little odd. Looking back, and now that I have a lifetime of experience under my belt, I believe she may have been bipolar, possibly schizophrenic, or something similar. Why else would she allow…" She couldn't continue.

"Sad. Look at the legacy she and her husband produced. One child dead and the other about to spend the rest of her life in a prison for the criminally insane for brutally murdering twenty-four men." Eddie brought up the file with photos of the victims, Luca Cabuz's photo alongside for comparison. Nearly all the victims resembled Luca in coloring, shape of the face, height.

"Doesn't take a psychologist to see that she was killing her father over and over," Vonda told him sadly.

"If even half the allegations are true, those men in our lock-up have a lot to answer for." He passed a beat, speaking her thoughts out loud, "I've already put them on suicide watch."

Eddie reached into his pocket and brought out a pack of gum, holding it out so she could take a piece. They removed the wrapper, shove the gum in their mouths, and tossed the foil rectangles in the trash. It wouldn't do for them to have alcohol on their breath while conducting an interrogation. Chewing gum was one of Vonda's favorite interview techniques. Blowing bubbles and snapping the gum unnerved some people, especially if they had a reason to be nervous. "If everything had gone according to plan, we'd have played good cop/bad cop on the birth father."

"I still don't get how Cabuz could've been tipped off. The operation had been timed down to the second."

"Probably a friend on the force. Not important at the moment." Vonda shrugged and pushed to her feet. "The mayor was down as one of the major players. We'll one-on-one everyone else, and double up on His Honor. Work for you, Ed?"

He got to his feet and reached past her to open the office door. "We've used the same routine for over a decade and it's always worked for us. No need to change at this late date."

"Agreed." Vonda gave her uniform a quick check, adjusting her collar, and patting her hair. She polished and straightened her name tag and badge, and pronounced herself ready.

At the entrance to the hallway that lead to the interrogations rooms, Vonda and Eddie parted ways without a backward glance, closing their respective doors with a soft click, hoping to further unnerve their suspects.

Vonda barely glanced at the suspect, speaking first to the hulk of a man standing guard in the corner, "How's the family, Officer Farkas?"

The big man stood well over six feet, his body muscular even though he was nearing forty. He let one side of his mouth turn up in a small show of affection. "Doing well, Inspector. Thanks for asking."

"When's the big day?"

"Not for another two months. Wife wishes it would just be over."

Nodding understanding, Vonda pulled out the lone empty chair. She'd had them altered to scrape over the tile with a cringe-inducing sound to further unnerve a suspect. "Boy or girl?"

Chin lifted proudly, Farkas adjusted his feet, and the smile grew. "Another girl, ma'am."

Pretending to be surprised, Vonda let out a low whistle. "Wow. Four girls, all under the age of ten. Lucky man."

"That I am." Farkas sighed, letting a note of worry and weariness creep into his voice. "We do have our hands full. It's a good thing both sets of parents and her sister live nearby to help out when I'm working."

Vonda scooted up to the table, inwardly pleased that the personal conversation had done the job. The casually dressed man sitting across from her was thoroughly cowed. It wouldn't take much to get him to confess and betray the trust of his partners in crime for a lesser sentence. On the other hand, the man in the suit sitting next to him wouldn't be so easily flustered. She'd gone up against this particular attorney in the past and had gotten a conviction against his clients by the skin of her teeth. That wouldn't happen this time. As the saying went, they had them dead to rights.

"Gentlemen," Vonda looked from one to the other with a scowl, "shall we begin?"

Istitutul de Psihiatrie Pajişte

Slobozia, Romania

"…Please, Zina. Come sit on the sofa. I won't hurt you," Szabó told the girl from behind the desk, hoping it would make him seem less threatening.

Immediately upon her appearance, Zina, the last of the personalities he hadn't yet met, had panicked and took refuge in the corner between the wall and the bookcase, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her respiration came so hard and fast, he knew she would hyperventilate, unless he could calm her down, get her to trust him, even for a few moments.

He came from behind the desk, removed his jacket and tie, opened the top button of his shirt, and sat on the floor with his back to the sofa for support. "My old eyes aren't what they used to be. At least come out where I can see you."

Slowly, eyes darting here and there as if expecting to be attacked, Zina released the grip on her knees. She knew they were the only ones in the room, yet stayed in the corner. Then, a bit at a time, she moved her feet out in front of her, using her hands to scoot her backside forward, again and again, until they were only a few feet apart.

Each time Szabó thought she'd speak, she pressed her lips together, rasping breaths coming from her throat. Just when he was about to give up, Zina's eyes met his then dropped to her lap. "A-are you gonna make us disappear?"

Not as unexpected as some would think. He gave a vague answer, "Whatever gave you that idea?"

She sniffed loudly, rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, and averted her eyes. "Mari and Luisa said you would. Th-that's why I didn't wanna talk to you."

Szabó smiled gently, as a father would to a child recounting a fanciful or erroneous notion. "I only want to get to know everyone." The pad and pen were placed on the table behind him. The same hand dipped into his shirt pocket to activate the recorder that looked like a pen. "See? I won't write down anything you and I speak about."

Looking at him through her lashes, Zina's expression relaxed from its mask of terror to something closer to wary curiosity. "Promise?"

"Promise." An ache began in his knees. Soon, he would need to have the replacement surgery he'd put off for far too long. But for now, he would endure as long as possible. "Luisa told me that you know quite a bit about the others. Nearly as much as Mari. Suppose you tell me who killed Andrei."

She shook her head, making her hair fly around her, dread coming to her features once again. She seemed ready to return to her bolt hole by the bookcase. Then, to his utter astonishment, she began to cry. Softly at first, the tears making tracks down her cheeks. Szabó longed to comfort her, but he sensed it wouldn't be welcome. "You know who did it, don't you?"

The tears fell faster, dripping from the edges of her jaw onto the front of her jail-issued jumpsuit. Szabó got to his feet in order to reach the box of tissues on the desk. He passed them to Zina. She plucked several, using them to wipe her cheeks before blowing her nose.

She appeared reluctant to voice her thoughts and Szabó felt that no more could be gained from continuing to press her for details. He reached for the phone, stopping with his hand in the air when Zina whispered, "If I tell you, it stays between us. You won't tell anyone?"

He couldn't lie to her. "That all depends on what you have to say. I will most certainly report anything that appears to be an intention to commit a crime."

"Wh-what if the crime was already done? We have that, what do you call it, doctor/patient confidentiality, right?"

To take the pressure off his knees after sitting on the floor, Szabó lowered himself into the chair. "Because of our past, I was asked to evaluate her state of mind, and that of the others, including you. However, because you came into existence once Antonia ended our previous professional relationship, technically, you are not my patient."

Closing her eyes, Zina breathed deeply, exhaled, and inhaled once again, blurting out, "I-I… It's was me! I killed Andrei!"

Szabó wished he could say that he was surprised. "But, Zina, why? It was my observation that Antonia's brother was well-liked by everyone, even Constantine."

"That's, uh, that's true. He was always kind to us, to all of us. But lately, he had been pressuring Antonia to see a therapist again." She pointed a finger at him. "I read about what happens to people like us when the original personality goes to therapy. One by one, we all d-disappear, a-and I want to live." She got to her knees, clutching at the leg of his pants, her eyes and voice pleading, "Please don't make me disappear!"

Though he schooled his features into his professional mask, some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face.

Zina collapsed into a sobbing heap at his feet, muttering over and over, "I don't want to die. Please. I want to live. I want to live…"

Evolve Academy for the Performing Arts

Joliet, Illinois

Two Days Later

Dinah strode around the room, making minor adjustments to the positioning of hands and feet, and the occasional head tilt. This new class would be the one. The penultimate of her career. Though to say she was a mere ballet mistress was like saying the Gobi Desert was a big sandbox. With these students, Klaus and she would be hailed as heroes.

She rapped her cane on the floor and immediately, the students returned to the first position, eyes on a fixed point, not straying over the room as if they were sightseers at a tourist attraction.

"Everyone, be seated." Once they'd complied, Dinah leaned the cane in a corner, clasped her hands together at waist height, and smiled, meeting each set of eyes one at a time. "You have all far exceeded my expectations." Though they didn't move, she sensed excitement filling the room. And why not? They were about to be offered the chance of a lifetime. "I have planned a two-month pilgrimage to the most prestigious ballet companies in the world." Her smile widened. "In one week, we will board a chartered plane that will take us to our starting point in Paris, where we will spend an entire week with the Paris Opera Ballet. And that is just the beginning." She waited out the excited whispering the students could no longer contain.

Dinah paced to the door and turned. "Each of you have a passport as a condition of acceptance. Klaus has already contacted your parents and we are awaiting their approval." She clapped her hands sharply, the sound echoing throughout the room. "I will see all of you at dinner. Dismissed."

Klaus came into the room as the last of their initiates spilled out into the hallway, chattering excitedly. In the past, the program had been offered to female dancers exclusively. This was the first year the program included males.

He crossed his arms as the noise faded, speaking to Dinah in his native German. "They would not be so eager if they knew what we've truly planned for them."

The smile Dinah had shown while making her announcement changed to a smirk not unlike that the devil might employ knowing he had the upper hand. "By the time they discover our true purpose, it will be too late."

TBC