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…
To all my family, friends, and readers from around the world, be safe, don't give in to paranoia, fear, and anger. If you have family, friends, or even a neighbor or co-worker who has a difficult time getting out, or just needs a shoulder to (figuratively) lean on, don't be afraid to help them out.
Do The Five:
Hands: Wash them often. 20 seconds is recommended. That's the length of time it takes to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle" or the Alphabet song through once. It's also the time it takes to recite the opening narrative to Star Trek. You know it. The one that begins, "Space, the final frontier…". For those inclined, it's also the amount of time to recite the Lord's Prayer. I'm sure we all have something we can recite or sing for 20 seconds, even if it's part of a popular or favorite song, poem, or even a Shakespeare soliloquy.
Elbow: Cough into it.
Face: Don't touch it.
Feet: Stay more than 6 feet/2 meters apart.
Feel: Sick? Stay home.
Most of all, stay safe. And for all our sake's, stop hoarding toilet tissue and hand sanitizer. That's just stupid.
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 83
Thankfully, the phone's screen moved out of sight when Darcy crossed her arms and Steve no longer had to see it. But that didn't mean out of mind. Especially not a mind like Darcy's. A man could dream though, right?
"Oh, this oughta be good," she told him with a large dose of sarcasm. "Please, continue."
While Steve tried to come up with an explanation that would be believable and truthful without giving out any real details, her glare drilled holes in his forehead. "It's, uh, it's not what it looks like."
"Cliché much, Steve?" She showed him her back. "You're watching porn and all you can say in your defense is, 'It's not what it looks like'?"
In a move unlike his natural demeanor, he pried the phone from her hand and deleted the webpage. "It's gone. Happy now?"
His eyes narrowed in annoyance when she snorted, but not to express humor. "That won't delete it from your browsing history."
Confused, Steve grumpily asked, "The what?"
This time, Darcy sounded like a jungle cat stalking its prey as she reclaimed the phone, tapped the screen a few times, and handed it back. "Just because you delete the link doesn't mean it's gone from your history. It's all still out there where any industrious soul can find it if they want to bad enough. The police need a warrant, but those with less scruples wouldn't hesitate to use it against you."
Pacing away from her, hoping distance would help with clarity, Steve shook his head. "Can't tell you why. Just that it wasn't me."
"Hmph. That sounds like the truth coming from you. Or it's a crock." They stood like that for a few tense moments, backs to each other, then Darcy sighed. "I'm done," she stated flatly, and her footsteps moved her away from him.
Steve rushed to catch up. "You can't leave, Darcy."
"Watch me!" She sped up and he easily kept pace.
"Darce," he lightly touched her arm, bringing her to a stop, and she finally looked at him, "we came in my car."
Darcy pulled free from his grasp, not that he would force her to stay with him if she didn't want to, and started walking again, phone in hand. "I really can't be around you right now," she told him in that same frosty tone. She passed the car and kept going.
"The car's over here," he reminded her, doing his best to appear contrite, if that would get them back on an even footing. No such luck.
A car pulled to the curb and stopped. The man at the wheel got out and came around to open the back door. A sticker in the window identified the man and vehicle as a ride-share. The man showed Darcy his ID. Satisfied that he was who he said he was, Darcy got into the back seat and closed the door herself while he returned to the driver's seat, buckled up, put the car in drive, and pulled into traffic, leaving Steve standing by his car.
Evolve Academy for the Performing Arts
Joliet, Illinois
The door closed behind the guard, yet Natasha stayed in character as Veronica Lovejoy, just in case the rooms were monitored. She put the food away, taking out one of the cold bottles of water, and set it next to the bottle of over-the-counter pain meds. Then, she folded the grocery bags and placed them with the others before carrying the waters and pill bottle to the recliner that faced the fireplace.
Natasha raised the footrest, opened both bottles, shook two pills into her hand, took them with the water, dimmed the lights, and closed her eyes. Within a few minutes, to anyone watching, she appeared to fall asleep.
Touching the underside of the ring on her right hand activated the signal that told Clint to proceed with the next step in their plan. The earbud in her left ear clicked to let her know that the jammer had done its job and she was free to move about. To know she wasn't where she was supposed to be, someone would have to have eyes on her, and that wouldn't happen unless it served her purpose.
Leaving the footrest up, Natasha rolled over the arm, landing lightly on both feet, eyes and ears peeled for anything that didn't belong. Technically, she was the only thing within the academy that didn't truly belong, but then she was on a mission: to save the young people sleeping one floor away from being turned into monstrous versions of themselves, just like had been done to her.
Without knowing who was pulling Klaus and Dinah's strings, Natasha could only speculate at this point, and didn't much care for the direction her thoughts were traveling.
She quickly dressed in a black sweater and leggings from the dresser to replace the torn and dirty clothing taken from Veronica upon her admittance to the "hospital" where she would stay until the mission's conclusion. Hopefully, it would end with Dinah and Klaus in handcuffs as they were taken away, never to be seen in public again.
A thought occurred to Natasha. What if, instead of having them put in prison for the remainder of their sorry lives, their reputations were ruined by scandal so heinous, no one would ever again employ them?
Dinah would never again dance for a theater filled with raving balletomanes. Naturally, as her spouse, Klaus would suffer the same fate. As she let herself out into the hallway, Natasha boosted her spirits by envisioning someone for whom his physical appearance and how he was perceived by others were two of the most important facets of his enormous ego, saying, "Möchtest du pommes damit?"
Undisclosed Location
Dreams. Everyone has them every night and most don't remember more than the emotions involved. A sense of the plot of the dream. Stories and images our minds create while we sleep. Some are incredibly vivid and dramatic, and can evoke emotions that linger into the waking hours. Happiness, sadness, fear… terror. They may be confusing and surreal, or perfectly rational.
Dreams can happen at any time during sleep, but your most vivid dreams occur during REM or rapid eye movement sleep. It's during this time that your brain is most active. Some say we dream four to six times a night.
Lucid dreams are those in which you know you're dreaming. It comes with an increase in those parts of the brain usually at rest during sleep. This state takes place in that time between sleep and wakefulness where you still remember your dreams. Poets and artistic individuals may refer to it as the Tinkerbell Zone, a reference to an old Robin Williams movie.
Veronica prided herself on her stoic, logical, well-ordered mind. Fanciful notions, such as those others claimed to have while sleeping, had no place in her life or thoughts. Therefore, her dreams were often events, recent or long past, presented in a new and annoying way by her capricious subconscious.
Tonight, as it had since she'd been admitted to this strange hospital, her subconscious seemed to be telling her something. It was attempting to remind her of long forgotten bits of information that would assist in alleviating the boredom from being unable to see and having only television and videos for entertainment.
Only now, she remembered more than the other nights. It was like watching a movie of her life wherein she'd been cast in the role of observer as well as the protagonist, as had the others involved in the memories.
Several years ago, while recovering from the injury that ended her ballet career, Veronica had finally hired an investigator to locate a long lost family member as had been a last request from her grandmother. This particular relative had only been mentioned a few time in passing, an uncle or cousin who lived somewhere in the United Kingdom. No one was quite sure, exactly. It came as a somewhat pleasant surprise when the investigator presented her with everything he could find on the man in less than two days.
That the long lost relative had been found living in East Anglia in the Eastern part of England wasn't nearly as astonishing as the fact that, at some point in his life, the man had legally changed his name. Since the age of eighteen, Veronica's uncle, who was actually a cousin a couple of times removed, was known only by the family name. In fact, all records before the change had been destroyed in a fire many decades ago. It was just the two of them now, meaning the only person on earth that knew what Uncle's birth name had been would take it to the grave.
Once she and Uncle Lovejoy, as he'd inststed she call him, had gotten to know each other, he allowed her to accompany him on a few of his antiquing trips. Once while examining what seemed to be an ordinary tea set, he'd looked at her with one eyebrow raised, and in his authoritative and world-weary voice, casually informed her, "It's not what you look at that matters. It's what you see."
He'd gone on to point out those subtle indications that told tales of long times past and how, for the price of an overly complicated cup of coffee, they would make a tidy profit. Though he lived fugally, the investigator's report showed that Uncle was quite wealthy. Not as wealthy as Tony Stark, but he could retire at any time and live more than comfortably for the rest of his life, surrounded by staff that would see to his every need if he chose.
With those two simple sentences, Veronica's subconscious, speaking in Uncle's voice, picked out bits and pieces of her abortive late night shopping trip that didn't quite add up, reminiscent of those hidden picture puzzles. It caused her to doubt her own mind as well as the words of the doctors and nurses who came and went twenty-four hours a day at random intervals.
Everything about her stay had been off, as if someone had changed the lens of a camera, causing the world to be just a degree or two out of focus.
As she did every night, Veronica pulled the covers over her head and pretended to go to sleep. When she was reasonably sure the night shift had taken over, she slid a finger under the edge of the bandages wound around her head, gently grasped the pad over one eye, took a breath, and lifted.
Evolve Academy for the Performing Arts
Joliet, Illinois
A petite figure crept silently across the plush carpeting in the suite where Dinah and Klaus lived. The couple had left the academy, and if they kept to their routine, they would return in precisely two hours, just as had been observed prior to infiltration.
The couple and their security staff obviously believed their precautions were more than adequate to deter anyone from attempting what Natasha was doing at this moment. But they would be wrong. So, so wrong.
She used her phone to scan the walls until she located the hidden room, taking only moments to let herself in. As in their suite, it was richly appointed with carpeting so thick and soft, it would feel like walking on a cloud in bare feet. The ornate carvings gave one the sense of having been transported to a castle, and any moment, a member of the royal family would be coming through the door.
Natasha gave her surroundings no more thought as she booted up the computer equipment, bypassing security here as easily as she'd done to gain entrance. It didn't take long for her to locate the files that outlined Dinah and Klaus's plans for the young people sleeping below, confirming her suspicions that this was no ordinary ballet academy.
After all these years, she still harbored rage and resentment toward certain individuals from her past. Unfortunately, if the information she found was indeed the truth and not just another fabrication placed there for just this eventuality, the people from her past were gone, and in their place, a new order had risen like a phoenix from the ashes.
God sees the truth, but won't tell soon. That's why Natasha was here, to find the truth, and now she had. Holding onto her rage, Natasha made a few plans of her own, and smiled.
Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
The bathroom light went out and the door opened on May rubbing her wet hair with a towel. She gave Peter an unenthusiastic smile, included a sigh at the end, and went into her room. He could still see the fear, along with that wide-eyed stare some people exhibited when they'd had a psychological shock. The worst part is the very thing he wanted to avoid had happened, or nearly had. If he'd been a nanosecond slower, May would now be… He made a sound of frustration, unable to even think the word.
You have a genius IQ, Parker. How could you take a civilian on patrol? And not just any civilian. She's your mother! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Peter went into the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against while mentally berating himself for his actions. "I should've said yes to the swinging and no way to going on patrol."
What would Sam and Steve say when they heard what happened? Probably best to tell them before they found out from someone else, like the police. Hell, May might even give Sam the low-down the next time they went out.
Easing the door open, Peter tiptoed to May's door to see if she was still awake. There was no light coming from under the door. That usually meant she was asleep or about to be. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, slipped out of the apartment, and into the stairwell.
A few minutes later, he was back. He took a shower, put on pajamas, and lay on the bed, but didn't go to sleep, one part of his mind making plans in case May called out during the night.
The Bennett Home
Joliet, Illinois
After Midnight
Lying in bed on top of the covers, fully dressed, Dylan waited for the family to go to sleep. When all was quiet, he crept into the hall, stopping at each door, hearing only the sound of breathing, and in the case of Eli, light snores. The boy no longer need oxygen or to be monitored day and night, though Dylan had heard Christine checking on him at night.
At the top of the stairs, Dylan put his hair up under a black knit cap to cover the silver strands, in case he was seen again. He was certain that the man that had chased him outside the lab hadn't seen him clearly enough to know for certain he wasn't just another animal. At least he hoped so.
Since discovering his ability to run at superspeed, Dylan finally had a reason for the constant restlessness, the need to run, and the unnerving feeling that everyone else moved in slow motion. He knew that wasn't the case. That it was himself that often moved faster than the average human eye could comprehend.
The dreams he'd been having lately only increased his need for speed, the only way he could burn off the disquietude that settled over his mind each night, especially after one of the dreams. Just last night, he'd dreamt of doing battle with a giant monster with green skin, who roared, beat his chest, and smashed everything in his path. He also heard a woman's voice speaking softly, soothingly, to the creature, and just seemed to know that it was she who kept the beast in check.
In this dream, together with others, Dylan, the woman, the monster, and himself were fighting a swarm of men made of metal. At first, he thought the dream had taken elements from a movie he'd watched that day with the boys, I, Robot. The colorfully dressed superheroes had come from seeing news reports about the Avengers. Or so he assumed. How else would he have known about the group of superheroes defending the world?
Whatever had caused the unsettling dream, Dylan needed to go for a long run. He briefly, for him, thought of leaving a note, but decided not to as Christine would be needlessly worried for his welfare. Besides, he planned on returning home long before anyone even knew he was gone.
As if he'd run into a brick wall, pain like he'd only felt a few times in his life seared its way through his head. He fell to the ground, curled into a ball, hands pressed to the sides of his head to keep it from exploding. "A-a-a-a-ah!"
His screams turned into child-like wailing as fired burned and slashed through his chest. Blood pounded through his veins as though it were looking for a way, any way out.
Then, it stopped, though the memory lingered in the same way a muscle was sore following an injury. Slowly, he brought his hands away and opened his eyes. What he saw confused him more than awakening in the hospital with no memories of the past.
He straightened his limbs, breathing deeply in an attempt to slow his racing pulse, and got to his feet, looking at his surroundings, the confusion deepening. Dylan found himself standing in a small bedroom that looked nothing like his room at home. There was a neatly made twin bed, artwork on the walls, thick carpeting under his feet, and there in the corner, a guitar leaned against a table over which hung a monitor much larger than the one Christine and Oliver had given him.
Taking slow, measured steps over to the window, Dylan didn't know what he expected to see when he looked out. Taking one more breath, he grasped the edge of the curtain, and pulled it aside.
Avengers Compound
Upstate New York
Wanda sat up with a gasp, uncertain what had awakened her, blinking to clear the post sleep haze from her brain. Taking a deep breath brought the scent of the woods, different than when she hiked the forest cocooning the compound.
Taking in her surroundings, she found herself lying on her bed in the middle of an overgrown field instead of her room. Tossing back the covers, she called out, "Where am I? How did I get here?" When her feet touch the ground, the stiff grasses poked the bottoms of her feet.
Once her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she could see the trees not the same species as those seen on her hikes, giving her the feeling that she was nowhere near the compound. It was cooler here as well, and she rubbed her palms up and down her biceps to generate warmth, wishing, just for a moment, she'd dressed in warmer pajamas.
Slowly, Wanda got to her feet, turning in a circle, seeing nothing familiar, and sensing no other people nearby. A slight throbbing began behind her eyes. She dismissed the pain, chose a direction, and started walking.
She had only gone a few steps when the ache rose to an unimaginable level. Gripping the sides of her head, Wanda fell to her knees, flopped over onto her side, and curled into a ball, screaming as fire burned through her veins.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it was over. Her chest rose and fell in a rapid rhythm, the air rasping in her throat as the world spun. A pair of strong arms gently lifted her and looked into Sam's dark unreadable eyes, sensing concern for a friend, and just a little fear on her behalf.
Sam laid her on the bed with her back against the headboard, tucked her legs underneath the covers, and pulled them over her. The door opened and Steve joined them. In one hand, he held one of those gel packs that were worn over the eyes like a mask, and in the other, a cup from which the welcome scent of cinnamon and honey emanated.
She took the cup with a grateful nod, stirring in between sips. When it was gone, Sam took it from her and Steve came to sit on the side of the bed, taking her hand. Seeing both men in their pajamas, Wanda tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "I'm sorry to have disturbed your sleep yet again."
Holding her hand between both of his, Steve gave it a small squeeze. "We're fine. It's you we're worried about. You should see someone about the nightmares. A therapist, maybe."
Shaking her head, Wanda pulled free, folding both hands in her lap. "It wasn't the same this time. Tonight, I awakened in a place I've never been, a field of flowers and grass that appeared to have not been cut in months, perhaps years. It was dark and the moon shown bright. I sensed no one close enough to have brought me to that place." She looked over at Sam standing by the open door. Out in the hall, Wanda sensed as well as heard others wanting to know what had happened, more than a little disappointed that Natasha wasn't among them. She sent out another ping. Vision wasn't there either. "The pain came and then I was back in my room where Sam helped me back to bed."
Wanda tilted her head to one side, glanced at Steve and away in embarrassment. "It seems that I have disturbed a good number of the staff." Placing one of her small hands over Steve's that lay on his thigh, she made a decision. The only one she could under the circumstances. "In the morning, I will make an appointment with the staff psychologist."
Steve and Sam shared a look between them.
"Want us to go with you?" Sam asked.
"We'll walk you over and wait outside, if you want," added Steve.
The thought that both men cared enough to accompany her lifted her spirits. "Please."
Getting to his feet, Steve helped her adjust the pillows. "Call if you need anything or just want company."
"Or, you know," Sam added, touching the side of his head, "send us a message."
Steve followed Sam out, the door closed, and the murmur of voices in the hall dispersed. Snuggling deeper into the bed, Wanda thought, I am so lucky to have this family.
~~O~~
Out in the hall, Steve sent the nosy crowd back to what they were doing. Muttering a vague reply to Sam without really hearing the question, if it even was a question, he kept going until he was outside. He was in pajamas, a t-shirt, and barefoot. Some would think the night chilly, but after his transformation, the cold stopped bothering him as much.
Sitting on the same stairs where he and Darcy had formally met, he hoped the distance was enough to keep Wanda from invading his thoughts by accident, because, until he was certain of what he'd seen at Christine's lab, there was no sense in further upsetting the girl. What he needed was a better look at it, whatever it was, animal, human, or enhanced human. Another set of eyes would work. Especially if those eyes had all the bells and whistles that could track almost anything. And if he could fly, that would be a bonus.
He was joined a few minutes later by the man he's just been thinking about. Steve didn't have to be an empath to know what was on Sam's mind, but Steve had to build up to telling him what was on his mind, both about Darcy and the lab. And it had to happen before their next trip to Illinois.
Sam didn't say a word. Just took a seat, legs stretched out in front of him, resting back on his elbows, looking up at the starry sky. Steve followed his gaze, noting that the moon was only half full. That sat like that for a while, not speaking, just watching the moon.
Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
The Next Morning
"…So there we are, Steve's holding me like we're dancing. Sam has his arms holding mine from behind to show me the right way, and in walks Ms. Romanoff."
Just as Peter intended, May laughed at the picture he painted of two men teaching a third to dance when neither of the "instructors" was fully adept. "Then what?"
"Well," Peter stood up from the table, holding his arms up like he was dancing, "she rolled her eyes and said, 'Who taught you two to dance, Bigfoot?' Then she kicked them out and took over."
May laughed out loud, using a napkin to cover her mouth. While she got herself under control, he drained the last of a glass of milk, picked up his dishes, and put them in the sink. She did the same, still with a grin, no doubt picturing them in their Captain America and the Falcon costumes, stumbling through dance lessons and failing miserably.
"You remember I tried to teach you before the dance you went to with Liz."
"Yeah, but I never got a chance to use it 'cause I went after the Vulture and his gang instead."
As she always did when he brought up fighting the bad guys prior to discovering his secret, May shot him a glance that said more than words. He knew how much it scared her to put all the pieces together with news reports of the incidents from the last year or so, to know that he'd been a major player and she hadn't an inkling of a sliver of an idea that he'd been anywhere near.
May turned from the sink, watching him with a thoughtful stare, head tilted to one side smiling with affection. "Show me what you got."
"Um, sure," he agreed, following her to the living room. He turned on one of the songs Steve suggested, "Someone to Watch Over Me", and went to stand in front of his aunt. Making a galant bow, he held out a hand. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Parker?"
Dutifully, she curtsied and placed her hand in his. "You may, Mr. Parker."
More at ease with May than he'd been at first with Felicia, Peter moved them around the floor, taking into account the smaller area. To add a flourish, he spun her out and back, making her laugh. After one last spin under his arm, the song ended with a small dip.
Peter stepped back and took a bow to May's applause. She hugged him and they flopped onto the sofa side by side. "Now tell be about Black Cat. How'd you two meet?"
Undisclosed Location
Pretending to listen to a semi-intelligent murder mystery series, Veronica watched the digital clock count down the minutes. Since discovering that her temporary blindness was a fallacy, she watched and listened. Now that she could see the clock, she found that the ache in her leg began every seven hours and forty-five minutes exactly, building until she begged for pain medication at the eight-hour mark. Not a minute before or after. And that presented yet another dilemma. If the blindness was false, it stood to reason the fracture in her leg was as well. The only logical conclusion was that she'd been given post-hypnotic suggestions.
Last night, when the nurse came around with her sleeping pill, she waited until the woman had gone to spit it out, and spent most of the night working through the pain, determined that she wouldn't ask for medication ever again. The ache eventually faded to a dull throb, which was easily bearable.
Next on Veronica's list was to find a way to test the theory that this was all some elaborate ruse. From there, she would plan on how to proceed, and there would be hell to pay. Kidnapping was a federal offense, and she would enjoy seeing everyone involved spend a long time in prison.
~~O~~
Watching the monitor showing Veronica lying in bed with the television blaring, Maria Hill, pursed her lips, reading the other woman's body language the way most people read the newspaper.
"Zoom in," she ordered the agent sitting at the desk. Veronica's upper body filled the screen. Maria had to give the woman credit. To the casual observer, she made all the right moves for someone who was unable to see. Boredom, anger, and annoyance with the situation took turns as the dominant emotion. Maria didn't buy it for a nanosecond.
Holding in a sigh of frustration, she made the decision to yield to the inevitable, basing her responses on what Veronica said and did. By the time she was done with their "patient", she'd believe anything Hill told her.
Keeping her smirk internal while exuding an aura of confidence and compassion, Hill slipped into the lab coat hanging by the door, shoved a stethoscope into a pocket, and let herself out of the computer room.
Budapest, Hungary
The man going by the name Kerekes István took a seat at the only available table in the busy café that afforded him a view of the entrance. His food arrived and he went into the part of an eccentric old man waiting for this time on earth to end following the death of his wife, though nothing could be farther from the truth. The man he was before had never married. Instead, he'd given his all the Communist party under the auspices of Nicolae Ceaușescu, leaving little time for frivolities. When Ceaușescu had been deposed and executed, István, then going by his birth name of Dimitry Caramitru, had left everything behind.
Taking a page from Shakespeare regarding the better part of valor, he'd discretely taken on one of the many false identities he'd created for just such an event, and now made his home in Budapest. Others in the intelligence community might say that he was courting trouble by sheltering in so close to his former home. However, they hadn't taken into account the fact that his contacts brough him into the orbits of many for whom practicing their chosen profession out in the open was not an option. These men and women often continued to ply their trade, catering to the less savory aspects of society. All countries with cities of any size would like to believe that theirs is the only one without such denizens, but they would be wrong.
Upon crossing into Hungary, Caramitru had changed his name as well as other aspects of himself that might one day give him away. Too bad the plastic surgeon and the nurse had to die, but Caramitru couldn't take the chance that they'd reveal his new face and identity to someone with pockets deeper than the Marianas Trench. Naturally, the dingy basement medical theater had to suffer the same fate. It was a pity he had to deprive those that relied on the doctor for medical help they couldn't get through legal means, but their loss would serve a greater good.
It had been years since Caramitru had to worry about being discovered, yet he hadn't let his guard down. To do so would've been sheer stupidity, and he was not stupid by any means. That's how he knew the bearded man with long hair he'd seen around town was up to no good. Caramitru had pegged him as what the Americans would call a bounty hunter. I may be old, but I've kept my skills sharp while playing the part of a sad, frail old man. He won't live to see a penny of the bounty.
Caramitru had allowed himself to be followed to the café due to its proximity to a landfill where it wasn't unusual for the staff to come across the odd murder victim, often long after the person had been reported missing. By then, the forensic team would have little to go on as to who had committed the murder. And he planned on adding one more ismeretlen férfi to the local police file of cold cases.
He made a big show of wiping his mouth, calling for the check, and leaving. He stopped outside to adjust his hat and straighten his clothing before leading his adversary on a fool's errand, walking slowly so as not to lose him.
At the point where the man seemed about to give up, Caramitru put his plan into action. He ducked around a corner, took a metal bar secreted inside his coat, and raised his arm high. When the man passed his hiding place, he swung the weapon as hard as he could, hitting the man on the back of the head.
Istitutul de Psihiatrie Pajişte
Slobozia, Romania
The evening sun slanted through the barred and alarmed window, warming the part of the floor a few feet from Antonia's bed. It was for that reason she'd rearranged the furniture the day she'd been brought to this hell hole, even after telling the doctors what she thought they wanted to hear. She hadn't committed those heinous crimes. Not one of them. It had been the others, the ones inside. How could they continue to hold her responsible?
Even now, she was skeptical of their existence. If they were in her mind, then why could she see them roaming around the room, getting into her things, and being generally annoying. "Multiple personalities inside one brain? Sounds more like the plot to a bad psychological thriller made in America," she scoffed out loud, turning to look at her companions.
"I don't know," Maricara told her with a shrug, tapping the side of her head with a finger. "One can never really say what's going on in another's head, right?" She looked over at Vară, silently urging her to agree.
"She has a point, Antonia."
Maricara and Antonia looked at the woman sitting on the side of the second bed, one foot on the edge of the mattress and a cigarette dangling from her lips. Vară grasped it between two fingers, took a deep drag, and blew the smoke in Maricara's direction, knowing how much she hated smoking.
Ester didn't say much as she picked up a cloth to dust. Huddled in the corner, knees drawn to her chest, Zina's eyes darted fearfully around the room. Vito, bless his heart, went over to sit by her, murmuring soothingly to the girl. He held out a box of tissues. She yanked two from the box, blew her nose, and scooted over next to him with a shy smile.
Stefania was sitting crosslegged on the bed, hands in prayer position, eyes closed, chanting, "Om Mani Padme Hum. Om Mani Padme Hum."
Contstantine paced from the door to the window, scowling at anyone who got in his way, usually Luiza, who prefered to stand in the middle of the room reading out loud from the bible, oblivious to the fact that no one was listening.
Izabella, bless her heart, stood at the window too, smiling dreamily. "Wasn't it a beautiful day today? Maybe if we ask nicely and promise to behave, they'll let us go outside tomorrow, just for a little while." Her eyes closed and she sighed, anticipating the feel of the sun and breeze on her face.
As always, Alina had stationed herself in front of the mirror, making adjustments to her make-up and hair that were so small, no one could tell the difference, and annoyed her to no end. Like Luiza, they ignored her.
Then there was Bailey. He or she, whatever the gender, had wedged his or her body into another corner, nose in a book, not reacting to anything going on around him... or her. Rolling her eyes, Antonia decided Bailey was a he, if only to avoid confusing herself.
Shooing Ester away from making the bed, Antonia threw herself down, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. "I wonder what Andrei is doing. He hasn't been to see me once since I was admitted. Mother and Father came a few days ago, but Mother cried when I asked about him. What do you suppose that means?"
Everyone stopped moving and watched her with sad expressions. They did that every time she asked about her brother, then went back to what they were doing.
~~O~~
The on-call doctor sat in front of a bank of monitors at the nurse's station, watching Antonia move about the padded room, speaking to herself in different voices. With a heartfelt sigh, he accessed her file to make notes, saying to the nurse, "It's a shame she'll never be able to leave here."
TBC
Möchtest du pommes damit? = Would you like fries with that? (German)
Hook is a 1991 American fantasy adventure film directed by Steven Spielberg and written by James V. Hart and Malia Scotch Marmo. It stars Robin Williams as Peter Banning/Peter Pan, Dustin Hoffman as Captain Hook, Julia Roberts as Tinker Bell, Bob Hoskins as Mr. Smee, and Maggie Smith as Granny Wendy. It acts as a sequel to J. M. Barrie's 1911 novel Peter and Wendy focusing on an adult Peter Pan who has forgotten all about his childhood. In his new life, he is known as Peter Banning, a successful but unimaginative and workaholic lawyer with a wife (Wendy's granddaughter) and two children. However, when Captain Hook, the enemy of his past, kidnaps his children, he returns to Neverland to save them. Along the journey, he reclaims the memories of his past and becomes a better person.
"It's not what you look at that matters. It's what you see."
― Alphonso Dunn, Pen and Ink Drawing: A Simple Guide
Lovejoy is a British television comedy-drama mystery series, based on the picaresque novels by John Grant under the pen name Jonathan Gash. The show, which ran to 71 episodes over six series, was originally broadcast on BBC1 between 10 January 1986 and 4 December 1994, although there was a five-year gap between the first and second series. It was adapted for television by Ian La Frenais.
The series concerns the adventures of the eponymous Lovejoy, played by Ian McShane, a roguish antiques dealer based in East Anglia. Within the trade, he has a reputation as a "divvy", a person with almost unnatural powers of recognizing exceptional items as well as distinguishing genuine antiques from fakes or forgeries.
I, Robot is a 2004 American science fiction action film directed by Alex Proyas. The screenplay by Jeff Vintar and Akiva Goldsman is from a screen story by Vintar, based on his original screenplay "HardwiredI", and suggested by Isaac Asimov's short-story collection of the same name. The film stars Will Smith, Bridget Moynahan, Bruce Greenwood, James Cromwell, Chi McBride, and Alan Tudyk.
"Someone to Watch Over Me" is a 1926 song composed by George Gershwin with lyrics by Ira Gershwin. It was written for singer Gertrude Lawrence in the musical Oh, Kay! (1926). Originally, the song was an up-tempo swing, but upon experimenting one day George Gershwin played the song as a ballad, and it stuck ever since.
Ismeretlen férfi = Unknown male (Hungarian)
Istitutul de Psihiatrie Pajişte = Meadow Institute of Psychiatry (Romanian)