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…
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 74
The Parker Apartment
Queens
Sitting in the open window with one leg hanging out, Peter let the sounds, smells, and sights of the city wash over him, hoping they would do what studying and practicing his Spidey moves couldn't: wipe it clear of thoughts he shouldn't be having.
Groaning in frustration, he went inside, closed the window, and picked up his phone, using his thumb to scroll through his contacts. At some time, someone, probably Sam, had put Steve's phone number in the contacts. Peter had been annoyed at first, but now he was glad, because he needed advice he wasn't comfortable getting from the man who was dating his aunt.
He dialed and held the phone to his ear while peeking out his bedroom door to make sure May hadn't come home while he was lost in a testosterone-induced fantasy in which Cat and Felicia alternated playing Juliet to his Romeo.
"Rogers," the now familiar deep voice answered.
"Um, hi, Captain, Mr. Rogers, sir." Peter took a deep breath to calms his nerves. Didn't work.
"Peter. Did you want to speak to Sam?"
Closing the door, Peter paced over to the window, watching the grey clouds moving slowly across the sky, promising rain later in the day. "No! I-I mean, no. Thank you. I, uh, I need some advice and can't talk to Sam about it 'cause, well… He's dating May and if I tell him then he might tell her and don't want her to know because, it's, um…" He winced at the slight squeak at the end due to his voice was still changing.
The background noise cut off following the closing of a door, but that wasn't good enough. What he had to say was super private and he didn't want to risk being overheard. "Go ahead, son. This is a secure line."
"Not on my end," he said without thinking and a little too sharply. "May can't know, so could we meet at, I don't know, um, a hot dog cart in the park or something? We could walk and, you know, talk," he finished lamely.
"Man to man?"
His smile was reflected in the window. "Ye-e-eah, kinda. H-How about Prospect Park, northeast corner in an hour?"
"I'll be there. Don't worry. Won't say a word to Sam."
~~O~~
Steve bought them each a cold drink and herded Peter through the park until they came to a bench some distance from the others making the most of what little sunshine there was before the rain. He capped the bottle and sat back. "What's on your mind, Peter?"
The boy choked on his drink and Steve resisted patting him on the back like a child. Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and twisted the cap on the bottle. "Don't want to, no. Need to. It's, uh," he looked away while one hand played with the hoodie string, "you see, I got these, you know, powers and everything a few months ago, and since then, I haven't been to the doctor for any reason, so w-what I need is someone who can, um, tell me what's in my blood and other… stuff." He waved his hands in a vague gesture. "Just to… make sure there's nothing… See I don't know for sure, but when it happened, we were at the science exhibit and the guide said something about radiation. A-and it only makes sense that, if I was bit by a radioactive spider… So, in case I want to, you know, with a girl, I'd want to know if I should or not. Not now," he rushed to assure Steve, "but… um, la-ater."
Though he hadn't any formal education, Steve was intelligent, and had the advantage over most people with regards to medical knowledge due to his mom being a nurse. In other words, he got what Peter was trying to say without putting it into words. He cleared his throat nervously. "I see." Shifting in his seat to ease the awkwardness, he coughed into his fist. "I could get a referral from one of the doctors at the compound. When would you want to do this?"
Peter's face turned a bright red. He took another drink, keeping his eyes averted. With the cap in one hand and the bottle in the other, he shrugged. "Depends on how long it takes. Ned'll cover for me, so, um, Saturday?"
Nodding once, Steve got to his feet and Peter joined him. "I don't approve of lying to your aunt, though your concerns regarding your… situation are certainly valid and should be addressed."
The boy heaved a relieved sigh and stood, holding out his hand. "Thanks, Mr. Captain, uh, Rogers, sir."
They shook hands and he was gone so quickly, Steve lost sight within seconds. Now all he had to do was find a doctor. He couldn't go to Tony for a recommendation because that would be like telling the world. Plus, Tony would get the wrong idea. He'd probably think his "friend" was himself and give him grief over Darcy again. When it was discovered that he knew certain information and didn't disclose it to the interested parties, he'd get more than grief.
On the way back to his car, Steve stopped for a hot dog with mustard. By the time he left the island, his snack was gone and his mind wandered yet again to a rolled up canvass he'd taken from the studio while helping Darcy. Guilt made him step harder on the gas and his speed climbed to well above the limit. Easing off the pedal, he forced himself to take his time.
~~O~~
At HQ, Steve uncharacteristically allowed the automated system park the car and went inside. The only person he knew who could be trusted not to gossip was Selvig, because he didn't care about anything beyond his area of expertise. He found the scientist in the lunchroom staring at a tablet and sipping coffee. Grabbing one for himself Steve made his way over. "Dr. Selvig?"
The white-haired man looked up and he smiled. "Steven, please join me." He peered at Steve, head tilted to the side. "What's on your mind, my boy?"
Steve held in a chuckle at being called "my boy" when he was nearly twice the man's age and forged ahead. "I'm looking for a doctor not associated with SHIELD and especially not with Stark. A geneticist who knows how to keep their mouth shut."
Selvig bit into his sandwich before taking out his phone. He chewed, swallowed, and wiped his mouth while scrolling. "I have the perfect candidate."
His phone beeped, and Steve looked at the name and phone number, noting that the area code wasn't for New York. That meant he and Peter would be traveling out of state. Piece of cake, he told himself on the way outside to make the call.
~~O~~
Leaning his shoulder against a tree, Steve dialed the number. The call went to voice mail. "My name is Steve Rogers. I'm a friend of Dr. Erik Selvig's. He said you had the right skill-set to assist with a delicate situation. Please call me back at this number."
Steve ended the call and settled in to wait. Less than five minutes later, his phone rang. "Rogers… Thanks for returning my call so quickly, doctor… No, it's not for myself. I have a colleague who requires specialized testing and Erik said you're the go-to person… That's quite a long story. One to be told by the one whose story it is… I can have Erik call to verify, if that would ease your mind… Oh, he already did. Good… Will Saturday morning work for you?" He quickly pulled out his pad and pen to take down the address. "Fasting for the blood work. I'll pass that on… The identity of the patient will have to remain confidential until our arrival… Of course. See you then."
On the walk back to the building, he sent a text to Peter and received an immediate response.
Without knowing how long the physical and blood work would take, he didn't want to chance he'd be late for his date with Darcy, so he sent her a text rather than risk being overheard. There were no rules against dating among the staff. However, they agreed to keep it low-key for the time being to stay as far from the rumor mill as possible, and to keep their relationship from becoming known to the general public. In person, they were friendly, just as they'd been before, and that was it.
Her response came back within seconds. *Disappointed, of course.*
**Same here. Reschedule for Sunday?**
It took longer than expected for her answer. *Got plans. Let's push it back to next week, if you can wait that long. :-)*
Steve chuckled to himself, covering it with a cough when a staff member walked past. **I can, if you can. We'll work out the details between now and then.**
"Texting your girlfriend on the clock again, Old Man?"
Resisting the urge to tell Tony to mind his own business yet again, Steve powered down his phone and shoved it into his back pocket. "Do you want something, Tony? Or is harassing teammates on your to-do list?"
"Not on the agenda, per se, but as the man who's footing the bill, I have a fair amount of latitude."
They fell into step heading for no place in particular. Steve waited for Tony to continue, but he stayed unusually quiet, except for the curious glances he kept shooting his way. He wouldn't give Tony the satisfaction of showing he was annoyed. "Drills this afternoon. 1500 work for you?"
"I'll be there with my Iron Man shoes on."
Tony veered off down a side hallway, leaving Steve staring after him. The tone of his voice seemed off just enough to tell him there was more to his silence than appeared on the surface. Whatever it was would come out soon enough, so he didn't waste time wondering.
Steve took the stairs to the residential floor where he changed into his uniform, grabbed the shield, and headed out to the range to warm up for the coming drills.
~~O~~
Once Steve was out of sight, Tony stopped to stare out the window, thinking. It hadn't escaped his notice that his friend no longer denied that the young woman he'd seen him with was his girlfriend. To Tony that meant their relationship had changed and Steve now thought of her as such, reminding him of a conversation they'd had after the Ultron incident.
The simple life.
You'll get there one day.
I don't know, family, stability. The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out.
Tony turned from the window, taking off his tie as he headed for the lab. "Friday, schedule a reminder. Team drills at 1500."
"You got it, boss."
Evolve Academy for the Performing Arts
Joliet, Illinois
The air within the academy seemed to vibrate with excitement and so it should. Dinah had known the students wouldn't care about anything save their impending trip, leaving any doubts they may have had in the past.
To make the trip appear legitimate, they would indeed travel to the Paris Opera Ballet. The next stop would be Amsterdam, followed by Milan, St. Petersburg, and Moscow.
The restrictions on phone calls had been lifted to allow the students to share the news with their families and friends, knowing that the word would spread far and wide. A smile of satisfaction that had more than a bit of smugness to it curved her mouth while she watched the students in the studio below. Discipline had taken a break and the boys and girls were chasing each other around the room, making up silly dance moves, and generally having fun, and she let them.
Klaus came into the room to stand beside her, hands clasped behind his back, also watching the students' antics. "Our students have all had the necessary immunizations to travel overseas. Except for Kaitlyn Bennett, the records are available online. I've left a message for her parents to forward the information." Dinah said nothing as this was the procedure. "Also, I believe they should be permitted to visit with their families one last time before we, as the Americans say, get down to brass tacks."
"Then we are in agreement. While this may show weakness in the eyes of others, I see it as camouflage, a way of diverting attention from other areas that may not seem… kosher."
Her husband didn't express accord or disunity. They both knew who called the shots. Dinah smirked to herself. She really was getting used to using American metaphors in her speech and thinking.
"You've allowed decorum to languish, my love," Klaus commented without rancor.
Dinah gave him a side-eye, using it to gauge his mood, seeing nothing that would lead her to believe his words were meant as criticism. "Let them have their fun, Klaus. It will end soon enough."
"Indeed. I've spoken to our superiors." He let that sink in as always, believing that she didn't know what he'd been up to. "They are reserving judgment until they see the results of our little experiment."
Dinah turned from the window, taking a seat near the fireplace. No fire had been laid, but just the thought of the flames calmed her. "As it should be, dorogoy. It took some persuasion on my part to get them to agree."
Klaus seated himself next to her. "As I recall, you made a compelling argument when you asked for my hand in marriage."
"I only voiced what you had been reluctant to say until then, considering the ballet mistress was quite strict with regards to dancers being intimate," she reminded him.
He smiled with affection as he brought her hand to his lips. "You are correct, as always." He picked up the landline receiver and handed it to her. "Time to put childish things aside, at least for the moment."
The other end was answered almost immediately. No one wanted to incur her wrath. "Restore order and begin class… No, do not discipline them. Merely take them through their paces… Spasibo, Yulka. Do svidaniya."
Istitutul de Psihiatrie Pajişte
Slobozia, Romania
It had been several days since Antonia was taken back to her room. Since the day Zina had confessed to killing Andrei, Szabó had plenty of time to complete his report. Unfortunately for the girl, she would not be seeing the world outside of these walls for some time. Possibly the rest of her life.
Szabó had once again attempted to convince Antonia of the existence of the other personalities. Yet, despite her insistence during interrogation that Maricara had been the one to murder all those men and that she herself was innocent, she once again had sunk back into her delusion. What had happened to her as a child must have been more traumatic than even Andrei had known.
Powering up the computer, Szabó brought up the news feed, watching once more the arrest of those Andrei had provided evidence as having been involved in those childhood horrors, and continued to do so to this day. Their reign of terror had ended the day of their arrest. It was too bad that the abominations known as Antonia and Andrei birth parents were not in a position to be held culpable for all that transpired in their young lives.
Resigned to his task, Szabó opened the document he'd previously started and got to work.
Darcy's Apartment
Unable to concentrate on the movie, Darcy shut off the television, tossed the remote on the table, and got up to pace around the room in an attempt to ease the feeling of paranoia. "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean you aren't being watched."
It didn't help that a reminder sat on the sofa, its perpetual grin making her want to punch it in the nose. She'd done that already and it wasn't nearly as satisfying as tasing Thor had been.
Arms crossed, she stopped in front of the offending item, glaring at its glassy eyes. "What're you starin' at? Haven't you ever seen a girl in pjs before?"
As expected, the stuffed bear didn't respond. The feeling of being under the watchful eye of unseen person or persons had begun the day the bear appeared on her doorstep. At the time, she thought the delivery person had made a mistake and dropped it off at the wrong apartment. That is until she read the attached card.
That had been weird too as it had been addressed to her birth name of Fontana Steinmetz instead of her legal name, Darcy Lewis. If it was a stalker, it had to be someone from her mother's past because she'd gone by Darcy since just after Mom married Greg and they moved to Orlando.
The bear had a distinctive design that Darcy had had found online. This particular bear was the first of a series that the manufacturer began distributing shortly after she turned four. They'd stopped making them ten years later.
This one was medium brown and wore a burgundy plaid skirt with a matching top, and a bow next to the right ear.
Darcy picked it up, holding it under the arms. "Whoever left you on my doorstep has good taste." She set the bear on the table and went to make tea. Coming back to the table, she sat down, still watching the bear with a curious stare. "You're not hiding a camera or eavesdropping equipment. So, why are you here?" The spoon clinked against the sides of the cup as she stirred. "The serial number says you were purchased in Boston where Mom and I lived until we moved to Orlando." Dropping her chin into her palm, Darcy tilted her head to the side. "Applying logic to the evidence, I would have to say that my birth father probably knew about me, but didn't want to upset Mom by making a big scene, so he stayed in the background, waiting for her to make contact."
Pushing back from the table, she picked the bear up again, walking around the apartment holding it in the crook of her arm. "If he's known about me all this time, why didn't he try to see me when I was older? Did Mom send him away because he was a deadbeat dad? Was he in prison? He's not dead, that much I know, or the DNA lab would've mentioned it."
Unable to bear the prickling of her neck hairs, Darcy tossed the bear on the sofa, checked that all the windows and doors were locked and the alarms set, turned out the lights, all but one, and went to brush her teeth for bed.
A few minutes after she lay down, the feeling of being watched was gone, but she knew it would be back. If not the next night, the night after, and maybe every night until she put a stop to it. Steve came to mind, but this wasn't his problem. It was hers, and she'd never been the damsel in distress. "You are a self-rescuing princess, Lewis. Have taser, will travel. But a taser won't work for this. You need something with more oomph."
Darcy picked up her phone and sent a text, waiting impatiently for a response. When it came, it brought relief, though she didn't fall asleep for a long time.
~~O~~
Outside Darcy's apartment, a lone figure slowly stood from his place of concealment once the lights had gone out. He knew his actions were more than a little questionable, and if he'd been caught, by Darcy or the cops, he had no adequate defense except the obvious.
He hadn't technically violated her privacy because he didn't use night vision goggles or a scanner to see inside. The only time he'd watched was when her curtains were open. Never while she was changing clothes or taking a shower. Not once had she entertained overnight guests. The only people who'd been inside while he was watching were the maintenance man and her neighbor, a middle-aged woman with a dog she carried in a purse.
A case could be made for the fact that he was hiding in the bushes while doing all of the above, except that he didn't follow her or track her movements. Though he'd been tempted, he hadn't installed secret cameras in her apartment or the bear left on her front porch the day after he'd tracked her down. To be fair, it hadn't been that hard, and he had no excuse for not doing it before now. Just what he told his girl. If Joni had wanted him in their lives, she would've said something long ago.
Now, it was all up to him.
Aboard the Quinjet
Saturday Morning
"Where're we going?" Peter wanted to know. He couldn't keep his mind or eyes still. Everything on the quinjet fascinated him. Maybe on the way back he could convince Steve to give him a flying lesson.
"The lab's in Illinois. Dr. Bennett is one of top geneticists in the world, according to Dr. Selvig."
Peter roamed around, making sure not to touch anything without permission. "Can we stop on the way back? I haven't eaten since dinner."
"Sure. Anyplace you want between here and Queens."
The thought made Pete's eyes light up. "I heard they have this thing in Cincinnati called 5-way Chili." He rubbed his grumbling stomach just thinking about it. "See, first you take some spaghetti and pour chili on top. Then, and here's the coolest part, you add beans…"
"Onions and cheese." Steve's expression turned nostalgic. "Bucky and I used to get it at Coney Island back in the 20s and 30s. He liked his with crackers."
"Wow. It's been around that long?"
One eyebrow rose, though Steve seemed to find his tactless remark funny. "Are you calling me old?"
"Uh, no, of course not. I-It's just that, well, you've been around since…" Peter's voice trailed off. "I'm not helping my case, am I?"
"Relax. Stark calls me Old Man all the time."
That perked Peter up some. "Stark? Tony Stark of Stark Industries? 'I am Iron Man.' That Tony Stark?"
Steve nodded with a smile. "One and the same."
Peter dropped into one of the jump seats. "Oh, man. I was gonna apply for an internship with SI when I turn sixteen. Um…" He stopped, unsure how to ask yet another favor of the super-soldier.
"I can get you an introduction, if you like."
"You'd really do that for me?" The grumbling in his stomach changed to butterflies. Big ones the size of jumbo jets. "Wow! That-that would be so cool!"
A thumb pointed over his shoulder and Steve's voice turned serious. "Happy to do it. Strap in. We're landing in a few minutes." Peter did as he was told as the sound of the engines changed. "Peter?"
"Yeah?"
"This life you've chosen, to take on the criminal element in your neighborhood…" Steve's voice trailed off. Knowing what he was going to say, Peter waited for him to finish. "You're obviously not taking mine and Sam's advice to stop, so how about a compromise."
Peter had expected another ass chewing, but this sounded different. "I can do a compromise."
The quinjet angled toward the ground. "Come to the compound. We'll teach you how to work with a team, just in case. How's that sound?"
~~O~~
Fingering the visitors badge clipped to his Spider-Man suit, Peter resisted asking questions of their security escort that would probably be met with stony silence or a curt, "That's confidential."
The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and the trio walked down the hall, coming to a stop in front of a door. The name plate to the right bore the name Dr. C. Bennett, Geneticist. He knocked.
From inside, a voice called out, "Come in!"
Steve looked away when Peter shot him a look of mild terror at finding out the doctor was a woman. The security guard opened the door and stood back so they could go in and shut it behind them. The woman sitting behind the desk was at least as old as May, and yet Peter found her quite attractive, though he would always think May was more beautiful than anyone, even Cat and Felicia.
Her smile was genuine as she came around the desk, offering her hand while Steve made introductions. "Mr. Rogers? Christine Bennett.
"Pleasure to meet you in person, doctor. We appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to fit us in." Peter tried to back away, but Steve's grip on his arm stopped him. "This is Spider-Man. I'm sure you understand the need for the mask."
"I do, and it's no trouble. I'd planned on working in the lab today anyway. Please," she motioned to the sofa, "have a seat." She rolled the desk chair out so they weren't separated by the width of the desk, her eyes wide as they moved from one face to the other. "I've been so busy lately, I totally spaced on your name. Didn't put it together with Captain America until you walked into the room, Mr. Rogers, nor did I have any inkling that my patient would be another superhero." She laced her hands together in front of her. "Now what can I do for the two of you?"
Steve's smile was a bit uncomfortable at the reminder of his notoriety, and to tell the truth, Peter was the same with his own. He shifted in his seat, doing his best to show confidence, like Felicia said. He caught Steve's eye and motioned to the door with his chin.
The super-soldier stood. "I'll leave you alone to talk in private. Is there somewhere I can get coffee and a bite to eat?"
Christine walked him to the door. "Of course. Go down to the first floor, take a right, follow the hallway until you smell caffeine, grease, and carbs. Tell them you're my guest."
He stuck out his hand to shake Christine's. "Thanks again for seeing us so quickly, doctor."
As she returned to her chair, Peter took the opportunity to observe her. She was trim, about his height, with light brown hair, green eyes, and dimples in both cheeks, with a graceful walk. Tiny lines around her eyes weren't as a result of age, but from her smile.
She crossed her knees and clasped her hands around the top one. "What seems to be the problem that you would come all the way to Illinois to see a geneticist, Spider-Man?"
To put himself at ease, Peter crossed his knees too. "Please call me Spidey, doctor. And I'm here for… um, it's embarrassing." The suit was too tight for him to tug nervously at the fabric as was his habit. "You see, in my, um, real life, I haven't been to the doctor since," he gestured at himself, "this happened, and I need to know a few things I can't ask a regular doctor."
"Like what?" Christine was genuinely curious. At his hesitation, she continued. "If I had to guess, I'd say you were either exposed to a combination of chemicals or possibly radiation that, instead of injuring or killing you, enhanced your genetic structure, combining it with the characteristics of a spider." At his jaw-drop, she explained, "Why else would you call yourself Spider-Man and seek out a geneticist?" She stood, rolled the chair behind the desk, and went to the door. "You're afraid that whatever's changed you is in your blood and other bodily fluids. Am I close?"
Relieved that he didn't have to say it out loud, Peter followed her out. "On the nose, doc. I need a full work-up, top to bottom."
"I'm glad you came to me," she told him as they walked back to the elevators. They got inside and she used her card to access one of the secure floors. "Just think of me as a mystery buff, but instead of discovering whodunnit, I find out the what, where, and howdunnit that can only be found in an individual's DNA."
The elevators stopped and they got out. She used her card again to let them into an empty lab that had an exam table in one corner with privacy screens that would block prying eyes. The doors would most likely be another office, a sterile lab, a place to draw blood, a bathroom, and storage including a refrigerator and a freezer. Maybe even isolation and clean rooms, though he doubted she'd tell him if he asked.
His senses tingled, just enough to tell him he was being watched. Turning in a circle, Peter found Christine standing near the privacy screens holding a piece of cloth that looked familiar to anyone who'd ever been to the doctor. "I need you to undress and get into this gown, please."
"Uh…"
This smile was different, reminding him of his mother and May. It was the smile of a mother for a child. She laid the gown on the exam table. "Keep the mask on, if you feel the need. I'll be back in a few minutes, and we'll get started with your medical history."
"Um, Dr. Bennett?" Her eyes held a question and he was quick to answer. "How long will this take?"
She turned her left wrist over to look at her watch. "Hope you haven't made plans until dinner." On that, she continued toward the exit, waving a hand over her shoulder. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
A moment later, the door clicked shut behind her and Peter was alone in the lab. The science geek in him wanted to explore, but he wasn't on a field trip. Not to mention the security precautions the facility had taken to ensure their secrets stayed that way. If he was caught somewhere he didn't belong, dinner would be the least of his worries.
Peter pulled the privacy screens around the bed and reached for the suit's closure at the base of his neck.
~~O~~
While Spider-Man changed into a gown, Christine went down the hall to check up on her other patient. She let herself into the room, but didn't see Dylan. Taking out her phone, she sent him a text, speaking the words as she typed, "I asked you to stay in the lab. Where are you?"
**Outside.**
*Why?*
However, it was some time before she received a response, yet her curiosity wasn't appeased. **I couldn't stay there. Not alone. I couldn't breathe.**
Christine wanted to be angry with Dylan for going against her directive to stay in the lab, but she couldn't. What the boy had been through the last few months, not to mention his childhood, would've been traumatic for anyone. It was no surprise he experienced a panic attack. She snorted to herself. "Even Captain America would have nightmares."
*Come back when you're ready, but don't take too long. We need to finish these tests and get home to see Kaitlyn before her trip.*
**I will.**
The phone went back into her pocket as she crossed to the room where the computers were set up. Christine hadn't thought about it at the time, but now that she was looking at it through his eyes, it did feel somewhat claustrophobic.
Grabbing an empty cart, she pushed it into the room, disconnected the computer equipment, stacked it all on the cart, and wheeled out into the main room. When Dylan came back in, she'd set it up so he could complete the tasks for testing his memory, cognition, and dexterity. Hopefully, these tests would give her a means of helping him regain at least some of what he'd lost.
Physical testing could be done once they'd spent time with Kaitlyn.
Oncological Research Center
Food Court
Sitting in a corner away from the other diners, Steve sipped coffee while doodling on a pad he'd brought with him, letting his mind drift while his subconscious decides the subject. When the coffee was gone, he looked down, and to his surprise, he'd drawn Darcy from their last date. She'd worn a dark red skirt and leopard print blouse, the skirt stopping just below her knees. In the drawing, as she had that night, she was gazing into space, a dreamy smile on her lips, and gently swaying to the music.
His pone beeped, bringing him rudely back to reality. It was another text from Darcy, who, for some unknown reason, was insisting on learning to shoot a handgun. *What's this about, Darce?*
**Need a hobby for the off season. You in?**
Was she seriously asking that question? *Of course I'm in. Tuesday afternoon?*
**Sure.**
Even without seeing her face Steve got the feeling she wouldn't tell him everything, if he asked now. Better to wait.
**What should I wear?**
That was an easy one. *Work clothes are fine, as long as they don't get in the way. And tie your hair back. Any preference as to weapon?*
There was a long silence and Steve pictured her looking up different handguns on the internet. **You choose. Gotta go. ttyl**
Steve made a mental note to question her Tuesday, just in case this need sprang from a stalking situation. Face to face, he could convince her to tell him the truth. Probably… Maybe… Or not. Darcy was difficult to read even when they were together, especially when she didn't want him to know what she was thinking. She was seldom caught off-guard. On the other hand, there were times he was sure she said or did things just to hear him stutter. Then, she'd make a joke and they were back at status quo.
All that changed the night they went on their first date, and he was glad Tony had given him the idea, though he'd never say so, especially to him.
Dr. Bennett's Lab
After making sure the gown was closed in the back so his boxers didn't show, Peter replaced the mask and went to look around, careful not to touch anything or attempt to enter rooms that were locked. That took all of five minutes because there were only two accessible doors in the lab and neither yielded anything of interest. To make pacing a little more interesting, Peter jumped, landing upside down on the ceiling, as always, in awe of the new perspective. It reminded him of that old movie, Dead Poets Society, where the unorthodox English teacher, John Keating, encouraged his students to discover their individuality, to look at the world from a different perspective. One of his methods entailed having the students stand on their desks.
Done with pacing, Peter practiced his landings on a variety of surfaces: the exam table, rolling and stationary chairs, and countertops. Then, he stuck a web to the ceiling and swung back and forth, resisting the urge to yodel like Tarzan.
Out of nowhere, his Spidey senses-May called it his Peter tingle-hit him in mid-swing. It was powerful enough to cause a moment's dizziness. He lost his grip on the web and fell, landing in a crouch in the middle of the floor, every sense screaming "danger!"
His chest constricted and he couldn't seem to draw a full breath. He pulled off the mask and it fell to the floor unnoticed as he crossed to the door. The closer he got, the more intense the tingle.
Because the door was made to keep people out, not in, it opened at his touch. Peter peeked out through the crack, spying a strange man walking toward the far end of the hallway, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, and wearing a knit cap. He was the source of the danger.
Peter threw the door wide, stepped into the hall, and shot a web at the man's retreating back, missing when he spun around and stepped to the side. He'd done it so quickly that Peter was momentarily at a loss. Was this guy related to the Flash? Maybe he was the Flash. He mentally shook his head. Couldn't be. The Flash was taller, slender, without the muscular bulk this man had.
He shot another web at the ceiling and swung toward the man, ready to engage him in battle.
The other man tackled him in mid-swing. They landed hard and Peter pushed away to get enough distance to web him up, but that didn't happen. Faster than even he could see, his opponent stepped out of the way, and the web hit the wall.
Thwap!
Peter shot web after web, and missed each time. This can't be happening!
They faced off with Peter on the ceiling, and his opponent at the far end of the hallway. His hands were clenched and the look in his eyes promised a world of hurt.
The other man took off so fast, he was just a blur as he passed under Peter without stopping, headed for the elevators just as the door opened and Christine stepped out.
Fearing for the doctor, Peter extended both arms, wrists bent back, letting the webs fly.
TBC
Dead Poets Society is a 1989 American drama film directed by Peter Weir, written by Tom Schulman, and starring Robin Williams. Set in 1959 at the fictional elite conservative Vermont boarding school Welton Academy, it tells the story of an English teacher who inspires his students through poetry.