Disclaimer: I own not one single crumb of Marvel, let alone the Spider-Man universe. Wish I did. Even a micro crumb of a crumb would be nice.
Warning: No clue.
Trigger: Umm… NO WARNINGS!
Navigating the Curve
By Juliette Lyst
Days Without Rain
Main Universe
6AM
Sometimes… she really wondered why she bothered to get out of bed. Brown eyes squinted at the noisy alarm before a slender hand reached out from under the covers and smacked the thing off the bedside table. The resulting clatter was more jarring than the alarm itself.
Sitting up, the petite brunette stretched a bit before staggering out of bed. Yawning, she wandered into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She gasped faintly at the sensation.
Ten minutes later, she was strolling towards the kitchen, struggling to stifle another yawn. Pulling up short, she blinked at the flickering light on her answering machine. Did I miss something last night?
Grumbling, she stepped over to the machine, pressing the 'play.' Unfortunately, a very familiar voice chimed in through the speakers.
"Miss Walters," it began. "I know this might seem last minute, but we had another file that came in. This one isn't what we're using to dealing with. We need you to come in as soon as you can."
Jennifer's brows pinched together tightly while she rubbed her right eye. "What is it this time?" she asked to no one in particular. Gritting her teeth, she pivoted back to the kitchen.
Coffee. Coffee was what she needed. Then she'd feel more human. Before she made it there, the phone rang.
Dropping her hands, she let out a silent sigh and turned back to her landline. "You have got to be kidding me…"
Twenty minutes later, she dropped into the driver's seat of her car and audibly groaned. "This had better be worth it," she hissed, lightly snarling. The message from the caller had been cryptic and a follow up.
It was simple.
They had a complicated case coming in, with a client they'd never dealt with before. They were worried about the public backlash once information got out about who it was. She wasn't told who her new client even was, just that he was a close friend of hers.
Which could be anyone really.
She did have a lot of friends.
Wasn't she supposed to be off today?
Regardless… Turning the car on, she put her foot on the accelerator and shot out of her parking space, joining the regular morning traffic. Gripping her steering wheel tightly, she pondered her existence for the second time that morning. Wasn't being a lawyer supposed to come with some perks?
Perks? What were those?
Sighing faintly after a few minutes of staring at brake lights, she allowed her grip to relax. No need for her to take out her anger on the car. Reaching over with one hand, she turned on the radio, pressing the 'scan' button until she found a station she liked. Grabbing her travel mug, she sucked down a mouthful of coffee.
7:45AM
Now… Now she was angry. She'd been sitting in the exact same spot for well over an hour. Looking to the radio again, she moved between channels until she found the traffic station.
"… rd to say today, Angeline.," the male voice spoke through the speakers. "It'll be hours before crew can clear up the pile-up-"
When she heard him mention the stretch of highway she was on, she wanted to cry. How am I supposed to get to work now ? Inhaling slowly and feeling resigned, she leaned forward and let her forehead slam noisily into the steering wheel.
There was a way-of course. With her, there was always a way. Straightening up and downing the rest of her coffee, she made a decision. She pulled off her shoes and tossed them onto the passenger side's floor.
"I didn't want to do this so early in the morning," she grumbled, turning her engine off and climbing out the car. As she slammed the door shut, the driver's side of the car directly behind her opened.
"Hey!" the older gentleman called, waving a fist. "What is wrong with you?!"
Leveling a stare on him, she allowed a smirk to cross her lips. "Getting myself and my car to work." Shortly after she spoke, green lights shone through her eyes - and she began to grow . To her consternation, she heard the material of her business suit beginning to rip.
"… W-What are you?" the older man asked once her transformation was over, his voice sounding strangled.
"…" Hearing that, she planted green hands on her hips, an incredulous look on her face. How could somebody not know… "Are you serious?!" she squawked. At the man's responding blank stare, she growled, turning to her car. "What I am," she called over her shoulder. "Is going to work!" That said, she hefted her car over her head, balancing it with one arm and began walking between all of the gridlocked cars.
"Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother," she muttered, still grumbling because now she had destroyed another nice suit… "I should have just disconnected the landline." Dark green brows squeezed together tightly.
Not that it would have mattered. They would have called her cellphone.
If she'd turned that off, they would have shown up at her front door, so there really was no way to escape work.
As she continued to travel between the cars she sighed, wondering how far the closures went. Things would go so much faster if she just jumped to her destination-though there was the burning issue of where her car was going to go and the damage she might cause
when she did come down for a landing.
Inhaling deeply through her nose and squinting, she continued to walk.
8:30AM
Letting out an exasperated sigh before she cleared the door, she ducked her head on reflex as she stepped into the building.
"Morning, Miss Walters!" the security guard called, not the least surprised to see her in hulk form. After all, she worked in the courtroom as the She-Hulk on occasion.
Gracing him with a brief glance, Jennifer nodded before stalking over to the elevator. After pushing the button, she paused, crossing her arms. Wait… she thought. What am I doing?
Walking-she realized-would probably be best. At least she could vent and blow off some of that residual rage.
As the elevator dinged and opened, Jennifer was already approaching the stairwell. Yanking the door open, she nearly ripped it off the hinges. As it was, the poor thing was hanging on for dear life.
The guard had been alerted to the sound of metal being warped and only saw a green foot as Jennifer hurried up the stairs. "Uh," he managed, bewildered.
8:45AM
"You know Jenny," the older man began, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. "When I called, I expected you here a bit sooner."
Green nostrils flared at that, the green woman uncomfortably shifting where she sat in his office. He must be joking… It was her day off, and she had done him an immense favor coming in at all.
Seeming a bit nervous from her reaction, the older man ran his finger under the loop around his neck, his tie suddenly feeling a bit tighter than it should have been.
Watching him, Jennifer merely folded her arms, continuing to simmer where she sat. She had hoped that the walk up to his office would have helped a little.
Nope.
That must have been a distant fantasy on her part. If anything, the time it took her reminded her all the moreso how much she should
not have been there.
Clearing his throat and deciding to change tactics, the older man sat up at his desk, resting his hands on the smooth surface. "I…" he sighed softly. "That was a bit distasteful of me-"
"Yes, it was," she interjected, cutting him off. The taller woman struggled to control her tongue after that, firmly closing her mouth… to face that problem head on.
He paused, inclining his head in agreement. He really should have been more considerate while he was speaking to her. "Let's try this again," he said after a moment, attempting to regather his thoughts.
Jennifer's eyes grew heavily lidded as she visibly forced herself to relax, even if a little.
"I am glad you made it in," he began after a moment. "I know… it's a huge ask for you to come in like this."
Feeling better at that, the intensity of her stare began tapering off. "Would have been better if that accident didn't happen."
Thick, bushy brows rose at that. "Accident?"
She nodded slowly. "Surprised you didn't hear about it," she replied. "Nasty pile-up." Inhaling slowly, she sighed. "Had to carry my car here."
"Carry?" he asked. A split second later, he wanted to smack himself. There was some reason that she'd shown up with torn clothes and no shoes.
"Yeah," she added. "Well…" she rolled her eyes. "It's in the parking lot right now."
"Oh-"
"But I refuse to pay for parking!" she added, pointing a finger at him. "The car is only here because I got stuck on the highway with it."
"Of course," he agreed readily. "I wouldn't ask you to pay at all."
"Good," she added. "Please let the parking attendant know that I intend to walk back out the lot, just like I walked into it."
He nodded.
"So…" the green woman said after a brief period of silence. "Tell me more about this client," her lips pursed faintly. "You said they were someone I know?"
"Oh…" the older man muttered. "Yes, yes." Rolling back in his office chair, he pulled out one of the drawers in his desk. "Here's his file."
"Wait-" Jennifer began. "He?" her eyes widened.
Looking a bit confused, the older man nodded. "Ah, yes. Your new client is a man."
"A man…" she muttered. "That I know?" A litany of 'could be's filled her mind. She sincerely hoped that this mystery person wasn't an ex-boyfriend of hers. Ooh… that would be awkward, she thought.
"At least I thought you did," the older man backtracked just a bit. "Thought you two were friends."
"Oh…" then, she saw the name on the file after he handed it to her. "Wait… Steve?!" she gasped, seeing the symbol for Captain America
on the top of the folder. What?! "You," she spoke, sounding a bit strangled.
The older man's brows rose. "Hm?"
"This is," her voice trailed off as she turned the folder. "Is this who I think it is?" she asked, feeling dumbfounded.
"It… is?" the older man answered.
Standing up abruptly, Jennifer gritted her teeth together. "Got a phone call to make." Without preamble, she turned and stalked out of Archibald's office.
As the tall woman made the slow trek to her office, she was just a little off balance. Why would Steve need us… of all people? Captain America was the last person she would have ever expected to need their legal services. There were plenty of men that she could think of… just off one hand… that would eventually need legal representation.
"Ma'am?" the woman at the receptionist's desk spoke up, looking up as Jennifer walked right past her and into her office.
Jennifer was in her thoughts, sighing deeply and looking around once she was in her office. Walking over to her desk, she chose to seat herself on the smooth surface, pulling her mobile out the pocket of her now ruined skirt. Her nostrils flared again as she stared at the darkened screen.
"Steve," she muttered, unlocking her phone. "This had better make some-"
The Next Day 10AM
"I hate my life," she grumbled, sitting up in her office chair. Her brown hair was in disarray, both eyes reddish from a lack of sleep. Nothing made sense. None of any of it made any sense.
Even after hearing about it first hand, she still couldn't quite understand. "Is it fair for me to say I hate my life?" she muttered to no one in particular. No… she didn't think it was. "Can I take back saying how much I hate my life?" she continued. She was so engrossed in verbally expressing her thoughts that she wasn't aware her office door had opened.
Her visitor opted for silence at first.
"No, it's not my life that I can't stand," she snarled. Right in front of her was a legal notepad. Tapping the top of her pen against the paper over and over, she studied the notes she had on a second legal pad.
Now, her visitor seemed a bit agitated. Surely, she would have noticed them by now… right?
"This is so stupid-" she grunted in disgust, smacking her pen down on the pad. Looking up, she jumped slightly. "Oh!"
"Ah… yeah," the lean blonde rubbed the back of her neck. "Didn't expect you to be this busy."
For a few moments, Jennifer blinked, trying to understand what was said to her. "… I need sleep," were the first words out of her mouth then.
Her visitor arched one perfectly manicured blonde brow. "That… wasn't what I expected to hear."
"Oh," Jennifer responded. She still had a blank stare.
Eventually, the blonde sighed and perched herself directly on top of Jennifer's desk. "We need to talk," she said, plucking Jennifer in the forehead a few times.
Wincing and leaning back then, Jennifer shook her head a little. "About what exactly?"
"Well…" Here, the woman lightly bit her bottom lip. "I have to get on the road again."
Making eye contact, Jennifer sucked in a deep breath-seeing a set of very familiar but still strange eyes. "Of course," she replied. Grabbing a swig of coffee from her mug, she grimaced slightly. "What do you need from me again… Jaz?" If the lawyer was honest with herself, the different 'identities' her friend took on were a bit-
"Hey!" the blonde gasped, seeming offended. "I don't always need something when I come to see you, Jenny."
Brown eyes narrowed. "Jennifer," she correctly tightly. "That tends to be the endgame with you, Jazinda."
Laughing a little, feeling self-conscious, Jazinda offered a faint wink. "Sure, sure," she cleared her throat. "Nothing gets past you, huh?"
Fingers tapping on the desk rhythmically, Jennifer waited, her expression turning sour.
"I need a teensy, tiny favor," Jaz began.
Holding up a hand, Jennifer glanced at her desk, sighing. "Does it involve breaking the law?"
Surprised, Jaz shook her head along with a responding. "… No." "Murder?"
"What?!" Jaz asked. "No!" After a split second, she spoke again. "And that's against the law!"
"Can't be too sure," Jennifer muttered. "… Fine. No one is being killed."
"Are you looking for somewhere to hide?" "No."
"Are you trying to hide some one ?"
"Ah… no."
"You aren't asking me to hide some thing for you, are you?" Jennifer asked then.
"Wait… why do you keep asking about hiding things?" Jaz asked, confused.
"You always ask for me to hide something for you!" Jennifer replied tersely. "I'm not exactly sure how this would be any different."
Jaz sat still then, regarding her old friend. Her face fell. "Well… I'm pleased to tell you that's not the case right now."
"Fine, Jaz. What do you need?"
Here, the blonde woman pulled a set of keys out her purse and place the ring on Jennifer's desk. "Here. These are to the trailer," she smiled, just a tad. "Need you to sell it for me."
"Sell?" Jennifer asked, confused.
Jaz rolled her eyes. "Yes. Sell it."
"But…" Jen started, looking at the keys on her desk. "But?" the blonde asked, a half smirk in place.
"Isn't that your home?" the petite brunette finally managed.
Blowing out a breath, Jaz frowned. "Technically… it was our home," here, she used quotation marks. "Until a certain somebody… for some reason decided they were tired of living on the road."
"We're not going over this again, Jaz," Jennifer growled, leaning back in her chair, folding her arms. "I already told you my reasons for getting an apartment."
"Yeah, yeah,"
"Aside from managing to clear my name," she added.
"Alright," Jaz conceded. Then… a smirk flit across her lips. "Still, you need to sell the trailer."
"How?" Jennifer asked. "It doesn't belong to me."
Jaz shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, it's yours now." That said, she got up off her friend's desk.
"Wait. Jaz!"
Having turned herself toward the door, the blonde did so, glancing over her shoulder.
"Where are you going?" Jennifer both looked and felt bewildered. "Aww…" Jazinda murmured, "Give us a hug then."
Though the tone was a bit grating to her nerves, Jennifer moved to do just that.
"Don't worry about me," the blonde replied, a smile in place. "I go to greener pastures."
Pulling back from their hug, Jennifer sighed and frowned, crossing her arms. "Will I ever see you again?"
"Sure."
"But wait," Jennifer looked over her shoulder to the keys. "If I sell the trailer, how do I get the money to you?" At the sudden silence, she looked to where Jazinda should have been and saw empty space. "Wait…"
Coughing lightly, she rubbed the back of her neck and looked at the desk again. The keys were still there. "So that wasn't a hallucination," she mumbled. Returning to her seat, she sighed and resumed working.
2:30PM
Yawning… Jennifer stood numbly at the coffee maker, willing the thing to move faster. She needed caffeine now and not later. Snorting softly, she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to pull a few of the tangles there loose. I need to sleep tonight, she reminded herself. Then I'll figure out the rest of this nightmare in the morning.
Although… were the attorney honest, she was feeling overwhelmed from the drudgery of late. It was a departure from normalcy. Normally, she ran just fine on minimal sleep and copious amounts of coffee.
For some reason though…
Hearing the wonderful sound of fresh coffee pouring into her mug, she fought the urge to cheer. Once it was done, she snagged some extra creamer and sugar packets. She wasn't certain why, but her coffee had tasted awful the last few days. She kept adding to it, in the hopes it would get better.
At first it worked, but now even her coffee at home tasted nasty. Grumbling, Jennifer turned and nearly stomped back to her office. As she came up to her receptionist's desk, she paused. "Hey Safia."
The woman glanced up over the rim of thin, black frames. "Yes, Miss Walters?"
Pursing her lips in thought momentarily, she took a swig from her coffee mug. "That guest that was here earlier… Did you happen to see her when she left."
The secretary flushed faintly. "Ma'am," she began. "I don't remember seeing anyone."
"Oh," Jen replied. "Well, I suppose that's fine. She's normally quiet when she leaves anyway."
"No… I mean, no one walked past my desk, ma'am." Jennifer frowned. "No one at all?"
The woman shook her head vigorously. "Certainly, Miss Walters. I always pay attention to the door."
Acknowledging her words, Jennifer inclined her head. Just what are you up to, Jaz? "I… see," she spoke softly. "Thank you."
"Welcome," the woman replied, turning back to her work.
Safia was… as Jennifer knew… using that as a way to hide how alert she was to anyone who came nearby. Drinking down another swallow of coffee, Jennifer returned to her office to finish out her work day. As she opened the door, she saw a neatly packed lunch sitting right on her desk. Stepping into the room and letting the door close behind her, she quickly looked around.
Someone had come into her office and left her food there. She sniffed. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Is it dangerous? she wondered. Maybe I should- "Wait until I get home," she spoke out loud. She didn't have time to take a lunch break right then either.
As she continued to compile notes, the smells from the food started moving from being appetizing to nauseating. Groaning, she shoved the entire thing into her trashcan and moved it across the room. Sighing audible once she was back at her desk, she sat down… sucking in several breaths of fresh air.
"That done…" she returned to her work. 4PM - Home Again, Jen
She stepped in the door… or the better phrase would be… she nearly crawled in the door. She'd felt off the entire trip back. Probably because I didn't eat any lunch… she reasoned. It made sense after
all.
The only thing she had at the office was about three mugs of disgusting coffee. The last mug she had didn't taste any better.
She was not happy.
Closing the door and locking it, she turned and had to hold onto the door for support. The floor was moving… or at least it appeared to be. "Ugh…" she grumbled. This, she decided, was the best example of why she needed more sleep. Once she regained her equilibrium, she sucked in a breath at the sudden headache.
Squinting in pain, she staggered further into her apartment, dropping her purse on the floor. Managing to make it to the counter in her kitchen, she leaned into it, holding her head in her hands. I need to get to my room… she mentally snarled. Fretting, she chewed on her bottom lip.
Once she felt stable enough, she pushed away from the counter and started walking to her bedroom. She felt suddenly sick then and turned, bolting to the bathroom. Having nothing in her stomach made it feel even worse when she began vomiting.
Right on the floor. Hours Later…
Staring up at the ceiling, Jennifer blinked, yawning faintly. Fortunately, her headache had receded enough that moving wasn't uncomfortable. She grimaced all the same and sat up.
Jennifer's throat was aching and sore from the vomiting. She wasn't even aware of what time it was. Her stomach was still empty, but now she felt very hungry.
And nauseous. But the hunger…
She angrily ran her fingers through her hair. Why am I feeling like this? Did her recent case with Steve cause this? That had to be the reason. It made no sense for her to suddenly feel so ill.
Were she honest with herself though… she hadn't felt good for some time.
It was mild stuff at first… A bit lightheaded here… feeling gassy there. She had been dealing with lingering hunger as well. Now, there was the nausea.
"What a wild day…" she muttered. She was a little nauseous still, felt extremely hungry and then there was the mild headache. Once she sat up again, the pain in her head returned.
"… If I didn't know any better-" she began, abruptly cutting herself off. She was worried about her thoughts continuing down the line it was following. "Flu," she blurted out. "It has to be flu."
She hoped that all she had to deal with was some sort of flu.
Her stomach growled then, and she belched from a sudden influx of heartburn. She winced from the painful burning sensation. What is wrong with me?!
Next Day… 4AM
Grunting angrily, Jen proceeded to stomp around her apartment. She'd awoken unexpectedly-and very early that morning. Instead of trying to go back to sleep, she tried to burn off some of her restless energy. It was the strangest thing. She was upset to have her sleep disturbed, irritable that she didn't know the "why" behind it.
As she stood at her coffeemaker twenty minutes later, she blinked… feeling disoriented. When did I even get here? She wondered, worriedly. Moving through her morning and setting up for another day full of paperwork and chaos must have become a natural habit for her.
Still… she couldn't remember even going into the cupboard for the coffee… nor putting in a new filter-yet that was exactly what she'd done.
Letting out a disgusted sigh, she waited until her first cup s of the day finished brewing.
Looking at the clock above her stove, she let out a very low whistle. "Why am I up so early?" she groused. Grumbling, she made up her coffee regardless and put the mug in the fridge.
Ambling back to her bedroom, she double checked that she hadn't set the alarm to an earlier time and tossed herself back in bed. Sleep thankfully came quickly.
When Jennifer 'came to' again, she was in the shower. Um… She decided not to verbalize any questions, because she doubted she would find any answers. Maybe I started sleepwalking? Biting her bottom lip, she finished her shower and climbed out the tub, leaving a trail of water through the bathroom as she absent-mindedly walked into her bedroom.
It took a few minutes before she was rushing into the bathroom again-but this time for a towel. Getting dried wasn't the problem, it was the fact she forgot to do it that was a problem.
The day didn't get any better, as she slid into her office seat at 7:15AM on the dot. Placing her mug to the side of her desk, she popped open her suitcase and pulled out her new file. It was the strangest thing.
Steve had never been in trouble… at least as far as she knew. The man didn't even have a speeding ticket. Never had. According to the papers in her hand, he had single-handedly caused a multi-car accident… but the reasons for it were murky at best.
"My my," she muttered. "Mister American Pie."
Some of the witness statements made her suspicious. These people were claiming that they'd seen him hurl his body through traffic on purpose-without any reason. Doing so had caused the accident. Several of the victims were hospitalized, one of them in critical condition.
If she dies, she though, grimacing, this will turn into a potential murder charge . A question came to mind then. As a lawyer, she understood the ramifications that could happen based on events in the next few weeks.
Did he?
When she spoke with Steve, he sounded confused, not remembering events like that at all.
The body of proof would decide his case. She could push for a jury trial… The problem would be collecting a group of his peers. Cap was a lot older than all of them… and the ones who would be his peers were near death at this point.
As for the younger ones… Well, they could be easily manipulated by the prosecutor.
Just who is representing the victims? From what she read, this case was going to be class action. Reaching for her phone, she picked it up and began dialing. The person on the other end hadn't had time to talk before she spoke up. "We have a problem."
What do you mean, 'problem?'" He asked. At current, Steve was seated on the couch, watching some very old tv shows from the 30s and 40s. He missed the silent films he loved, as they nearly were either lost to time or stored in a separate location to preserve the film.
"It's not good, Steven," Jennifer replied.
Steve stared at his phone. She seemed unhappy. Very much so. "How bad is it?"
Sucking in a deep breath, feeling her anger rise a notched, she responded. "I need you to come in today." She sighed. "We need to do some foodwork."
Ah… you mean 'foot'work, Jen?" he asked.
Hesitating a bit then, Jennifer squinted, thinking very hard about that. "No Steve," she decided. "It'll be foodwork at first. Then footwork."
Brows rising, Steve regarded her words carefully.
After a few minutes, Jennifer became annoyed. Her fingers were rhythmically tapping against her desk top, her pen on occasion making contact with the hard surface. "Steve," she spoke up, her voice forceful.
He jerked slightly, having sunken deeply into thought. "Sure…" he replied. "I'll be there… Ah… where would we meet exactly?" To be fair, he was pushing himself away from something he wanted to do… had spent all week getting things around his room done.
Pursing her lips in thought, Jennifer made a decision. "We'll be meeting at-"
Forty Minutes Later… The Honey Hat
"What did you mean when you said we needed to do footwork?" Steve asked, seated across from Jennifer. After a moment, he sat up a bit more and stared into her plate. "And what are you even eating?" All he saw was meat, cheese, potatoes and more meat.
Brown eyes looked up at him. "Breakfast," Jennifer replied shortly. She didn't exactly feel sick right then, but the persistent hunger was still there. The sheer amount of beef and fries in front of her would have frightened most people off.
Not her though.
Swallowing hard and looking a bit uncomfortable, Steve sat back folding his arms. He also crossed his legs, glancing up as their waitress set a solitary cup of black coffee in front of him. "Thank you," he said, smile in place.
The waitress blushed a bit and hurried off to her next table. "Geeze, Steve," Jen remarked, munching on a fry. "Can it, mister." "Hmm?" he asked, confused.
Jennifer snorted. Even after all this time, the man seemed to not realize he'd turned on the charm. This time, it was turned on it full it seemed. Even she felt disarmed by his smile.
Taking a sip of his coffee, he waited patiently… bewildered at seeing Jennifer's cheeks reddening, along with her chest. "What's wrong?" he asked, worried.
"Huh?" the brunette muttered in question, cutting into her steak. "Wrong?"
"You look… Um…" he paused, allowing his voice to trail off.
Keeping eye contact, Jennifer stoved a huge forkful of steak into her mouth. One of her brows popped up.
Does she not realize? he wondered, raising the coffee mug to his lips. He understood then that yes… coffee would fix all of this. At least for the time being.
Letting the awkward moment fall to the wayside, Jennifer resumed tucking into her food.
A solid five minutes of him hearing the sounds of scraping cutlery, and Steve had enough. "Look, Jennifer," he began.
She glanced up at him, a bit embarrassed that she was so engrossed in her food.
"You called me out her for a reason… other than lunch, right?" Clearing her throat, Jennifer nodded. "Yes. And it's breakfast." Steve stared at her plate. "… As you wish," he replied.
"Sure. So… I was reviewing your case," she stated, wiping her mouth off. "We need to figure out if there were any cameras around."
"Cameras?" he asked.
"Yes," she nodded slowly, willing him to understand. "There's no mention of that in your file. All we have is the words of a few witnesses… but all of that can be manipulated."
"Oh," he muttered, in a lower voice. "I did not know that." He sipped more of the coffee.
"Cameras are the best way to prove what really happened," she explained, grabbing a couple of fries. "Most businesses have them now."
"That explains the footwork?" he asked.
Nodding vigorously, Jennifer grinned. "Bingo. All we need to do is find the video and that can clear up a lot," here, she sighed. "I'm… hoping that we don't have to go to trial."
Steve tilted his head, trying to understand.
"Trial would be a bad thing," she explained. When he still didn't seem to get what she meant, she sighed, letting her shoulders sag. "It's no offense meant to you, Steve,"
Hearing that, he began to frown.
"But a trial is usually judged by a group of your peers." "Yes," he agreed readily. "… And?"
Jennifer bit her bottom lip, and then stuffed another hunk of steak in her mouth. "A trial with your peers wouldn't be a good thing," Jennifer pointed at him with her steak knife. "Most of them are either dead or have their foot in the grave and one foot on a banana peel."
The blond man's eyes widened.
"It's just a fact," she reasoned. "You're the only one who had the serum… Plus the whole freezing for decades thing…" Jennifer shrugged.
"That's… true," He acquiesced, understanding what she really meant.
"A group of your peers wouldn't be from today, Cap," she added, biting into the last bit of her steak. "They'd be from around World War II." Putting down her fork, she grabbed the last few fries. "Don't really see too many of them walking around these days."
His expression was pained, remembering those he'd left behind all those years ago.
"Come on, Steve," Jennifer stated, handing a card to the waitress when the woman returned to their table.
The woman looked a bit alarmed, but kept her mouth shut, returning with Jennifer's receipt.
Jen offered her a sizeable bill, ignoring the expression on the woman's face. "Thanks for the great service."
Steve was still sitting in a moping stupor when he felt her nudge him in the shoulder.
"Come on, big guy," she said, extending a hand to him. "We should get going."
"So we are done with the foodwork?" he asked, accepting her hand and standing up smoothly.
"Of course," Jennifer replied.
"I don't understand where you put all of that…" he mumbled, gesturing to her plate, where several bones were visible.
"… The same place you put your food, Steve!" she snapped, irritated.
Wisely, he chose to remain silent. 11:02AM
Jennifer pulled her car to a stop, and both of them climbed out. Clearing her throat, she glanced to Steve. "So… this is the spot, right?"
The tall blond looked left, then right and nodded. "Yes. I was here." "And what did you see… exactly?"
Narrowing his eyes, he ground his teeth together slightly. "There was someone… Someone I was chasing." He squinted. "It's difficult to remember."
"Really?" Jennifer asked, surprised. She didn't know Steve to have a problem remembering much of anything.
"Yes," he sighed, frustrated with himself. "It's odd."
Nodding faintly, Jennifer turned to look at the nearest store. "We can start our investigation here."
Frowning, he nodded and followed her.
The bell dinged overhead as they entered the front door.
The clerk looked up, wiping his hands off on his apron. "How can I help you?" he asked.
Pursing her lips, Jennifer quickly tried to word her questions carefully. "Sir… Do you remember an accident happening here… about three weeks ago?"
Frowning, bushy gray brows bunching together, the older man nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "It was pretty nasty." He frowned. "I hope everyone's alright." He spoke, wringing his hands in worry.
"That's… actually why we're here," she stated, gesturing to Steve and herself. "We need to know if you have any footage of the incident."
Suddenly suspicious, the shopkeeper's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know?"
"I'm here, as a representative of one of the parties involved in the accident, sir." Jennifer extracted one of her business cards.
"Jennifer Walters, eh?" he asked after taking the card. "Yup," she replied. "Jennifer Walters, Legal Eagle."
"So," he began. "Which of them are you here to represent?" he asked.
"The innocent party," Jennifer responded, smoothly. It wasn't wrong. After all, her client was innocent until proven guilty. "I'm just here to see if you have footage and to maybe obtain a copy if at all possible."
Holding a hand up, the older man lightly shook his head. "No offense Miss… Walters?"
She let out a silent sigh.
"But I'll need to have a police officer here to collect that kind of information."
"I can do that," she replied. "I can get an officer here to do that for you."
"Alright," he replied. He began to turn back to his register.
"Sir?" she asked, something occurring to her.
He turned back to her. "Yes?"
"How long do your recordings last?" It was a legitimate question, because different companies had very different policies.
"Oh," he paused, thinking carefully about that. After a minute, he redirected his gaze to her. "Thirty days."
"Thirty?" she asked, alarm bells going off in her head. "The accident was three weeks ago."
"Three weeks and three days." He replied. There was silence after those words.
The brunette's mind was racing. She only had four days to try to obtain that footage. At this point, likely less. I'm going to lose it! She struggled to keep a neutral expression in place. No need to make the man anymore distrustful than he already was.
"If that's all," he spoke then. "I have to return to work." He lifted his head, hearing another jingle.
"Understood," she said, smile in place. "I'll be in touch." He nodded. "Sure."
Both Jennifer and Steve left the store. Once they were a few feet outside, the brunette ran her fingers through her hair. Her gaze was
directed elsewhere.
Worried, but not nearly as much as her, Steve remained silent.
"We have to check the next place," she said after a long stint of silence.
"Next?" he asked.
Nodding, Jennifer pointed to a store across the street. "There. We have to check everyone to see if they have cameras."
"Oh, of course."
Unfortunately, the news was even worse at the next location. "What do you mean you only save recordings for two weeks?" Is that even legal? she wondered.
The man behind the counter nodded. "Yes. That's true." He lightly shrugged. "It's store policy."
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Jennifer planted one hand on her hip and ran her fingers through her hair. This… this was not good. That meant they only had two more places to approach.
As they left the store, her gaze narrowed, her focus sharper as she considered the possibility that there was no footage. A mental image came to mind then… of a bunch of people coming off a bus to sit in the juror's benches… most of them wearing glasses, using canes- save the one who used hearing aids.
Shaking her head at the unpleasant image, she decided to make a phone call then and there. At least, she might be able to get a uniformed officer to get the tape.
8PM
"What a day!" she exclaimed, setting down her purse, briefcase and tossing herself on the couch. The other two stores had turned out to
be duds.
Thankfully, a uniformed officer was able to get to the first store before it closed for the evening. She had to touch base with them in the morning.
It had to be good news. She hoped it was good news. "So strange that the other stores had nothing." her eyes narrowed in thought. "The last two claimed they only held video for a week…" she muttered. "But what kind of store only holds one week of video?" Sighing, she folded her hands under her head.
There was a strong possibility that all four of the locations had been dishonest with her. It was even more alarming that the answers of the last three seemed to mirror exactly… what the other… had said…
Realization hit then. They were all corroborating with each other!
Sitting up quickly, Jennifer groaned a split second later, feeling a headache forming. It didn't make any sense. Pressing a hand to the right side of her forehead, she forced herself off the couch. It took a moment for her to regain her equilibrium.
"Have to get to the land line," she muttered… and as soon as she was able, she staggered right in that direction. Dialing by memory alone, she held the phone to her ear. While she waited for the call to be picked up, she furiously tried to go back through her memory.
At one point, she sat in her car with Steve, writing notes on her legal pad. What did I say to him?
Squinting… her day came back to her-slowly.
Why did two of them say the same thing?" Steve asked. He scratched his chin. Something didn't add up, but he wasn't certain what it was yet.
Yeah, weird." Jennifer replied, scribbling notes furiously on her pad.
It's like they were reading off the same cue cards," he remarked absently. At this point, he understood that people on the television did that often to remind themselves of what they were supposed to talk about.
Huh. Maybe?" she asked, not fully connecting the dots then.
"It was the same when we went to that last store…" she muttered, wondering how she could have been so blind.
Jennifer?" a voice spoke then. "It's me, sir!" she replied.
Do you know what time it is?" the voice asked, the person behind it sounding irritable.
"Yes…" a muscle in her jaw twitched. "Just like you've called me much earlier in the day for something important-"
They groaned.
"Oh yeah," she laughed. "Returning the favor!"
The older man on the other end of the phone call sat up in bed. "Uhh… I deserve that."
"Yes," Jennifer agreed. "You do."
Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, he sighed. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Walters?" he asked finally.
"We visited four spots today," she said, jumping in with both feet. "All but one of them had a different story."
Does it matter?" he asked, not getting it.
"Yes… it does," she replied, moving to her cabinets and searching for pain medicine for the headache. "Normally, it's fine, but they all said the exact same thing." After fishing the bottle out her cabinet, she went looking for a bottle of water.
The same thing?" he asked, now more awake.
"Yeah," she replied, cracking open a fresh water bottle. "Steve said it was like reading from cue cards."
That is very… unusual," he agreed.
"It's like they were coached." Popping a few of the pills in her mouth, she chased them down with a few swallows from the bottle.
I don't know what to say, Jennifer." His voice betrayed how bewildered he felt.
"There's not much to say, sir," she replied, capping the water and taking it with her back to the couch. "I'll have to see if the fourth one turns out to be a dud too."
They didn't say the same thing?"
"No," she spoke, frustrated. "But they claimed that they only had a few days before the video overwrote itself.
And any evidence would be gone…" he added.
"Yeah." Jennifer worried her bottom lip. "I sent a uniform over there to get the video, but who knows what'll turn up at this point.
Hopefully, it's what we want," he spoke. "Walters?" "Yes sir?"
Good job."
Half smirking on her end, Jennifer stretched out her legs after sitting back on the couch. "No say that yet, sir. I need to prove his innocence." For her, it meant a lot more leg work.
It couldn't have been only those businesses who were recording… right? But… there would be a problem with finding the people who may have been recording what happened.
If that first business didn't have anything…
Let's hope you hit it out the ballpark… like you always do."
Jennifer's smirk stretched into a smile. She appreciated it even though this case was far from over. "Thanks sir," she replied. "Have a good night and sorry if I woke you."
The older man grunted. "Considering the circumstances… it's fine. See you in the office tomorrow."
"See you soon, sir." Jennifer hung up the phone, leaning her head back on the couch. "Oh man…" she groaned, holding her right hand to the same spot. She sincerely hoped her headache would be over very soon. She wasn't in the mood to deal with this for the rest of the night.
4:41AM
For the last half hour, the brunette had been up. She woke up in a puddle of sweat, feeling so unbelievably hot . She struggled to catch her breath, trying to figure out what was happening. As she moved to roll to her side, she felt her insides twist sharply. Yelping, she curled up into a ball on her side, trying to breathe through the pain.
From her position, she was able to watch as the time slowly crawled by on her bedside clock.
Curled up so tightly, sweat beaded up on her forehead, her body becoming slick as she started sweating all over again.
She couldn't even speak, feeling as if fire was racing through her veins. Hot… so hot…
The pain was tremendous. The twisting inside turned into rhythmic clenching… which was starting to make her feel unwell.
She exhaled carefully, gagging painfully without warning. That set off a chain reaction, with extra muscles struggling to see who could clench up the most in a five-minute span.
It hurt. So much.
Jennifer couldn't remember a time when her body had hurt so badly. Shot at… she thought blearily. Stabbed. Experimented on… She gagged again, which set off a series of painful hiccups.
It was proving to be too much for her bladder, and she found herself fitfully rushing to the bathroom before she peed on herself.
5:22AM
Groaning and still in the bathroom, Jennifer gagged again for the fourth time, kneeling in front of the toilet. She was shivering and sweating more profusely… trying so hard not to get sick. Unfortunately, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. The churning in her stomach was worsening, and she could taste it when bile suddenly flooded her mouth. Oh no…
She whimpered before promptly emptying her stomach. 6:15AM
Slamming her car door shut, she placed her head on the steering wheel… Sniffling.
She didn't feel good. Not at all. Maybe I can call out today…
As she continued to sit there, her mobile began to ring. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the thing to just be quiet.
While the phone quieted momentarily, it began ringing all over again. Letting out a disgusted sigh, she straightened up and picked up her phone.
"Walters…" she mumbled… not at all in the mood.
Where are you?"
"W… What do you mean?" she asked. "I just got in my car."
It's nearly 10 in the morning, Jen!"
Brown eyes widening, she immediately looked at the clock on her dash board… It was reading… "9:52AM…"
Yes!" the female voice on the other end said. "You said you just got in your car?"
"I…" Jennifer gulped, worried. Did I fall asleep in here? She could have sworn that she just looked at the clock before getting in the car. "I'm on my way…" she continued, her voice trailing off.
Whatever the voice on the other end said was lost when she hung up. Checking her phone, she rubbed her eyes… realizing that she had twenty missed calls. "What's happening to me?" she asked, teeth clattering. Sucking in a quivering breath, she turned the engine on and headed to work.
It didn't make sense… Nothing did. I must be sick… It was the only way she could explain how she was suddenly losing track of time.
She couldn't right then remember an illness that was causing gaps in time.
By the time she arrived at work, it was closer to 11 in the morning because of traffic. She had forgone her coffee mug, and breezed through the front doors. She completely ignored the security guard, hurrying to the elevator.
As the doors closed in front of her, she sucked in another breath, suddenly feeling closed in. She closed her eyes, willing the elevator to move faster. She didn't want to be in here, had to get out. "Please…" she begged, as it passed each floor slower and slower. As she chanced a glance at her reflection in the polished wall, she felt as if her vision was tunneling and slammed her eyes shut again.
Nope, not even going to look. Nope.
When the doors finally dinged, she opened her eyes and staggered out the door.
Her boss was standing right there, his mouth dropping open in surprise.
She wasn't sure what the problem was and ran her fingers self- consciously through her hair. She was alarmed to feel her hair was slick with sweat. Her breathing was also heavier than normal. Her mouth worked a few times, but she decided to maintain her silence and walked past her boss to her office.
Her receptionist was staring at her wide-eyed as well, but she pushed that knowledge to the side and smoothly stepped into the office. Closing the door behind herself, she pressed her back to the firm surface and slid down to the floor.
She tucked her head between her knees. Sucking in a few panicky breaths, she eventually calmed down and began to relax.
Climbing off the floor, she approached her desk, only then able to see a reflection of herself in the glass windows-as the curtains were still pulled to. Her eyes nearly bugged out at her own appearance and she quickly looked for her compact.
Her eyes looked reddish as if she'd been crying. Her hair was both sweaty and disheveled. Her blouse was unevenly buttoned as well, glimpses of the peach coloured bra she was wearing visible.
Looking down, she was startled. Her skirt was at least on and buttoned, but for some odd reason, she was wearing mismatched socks and her bedroom slippers.
The compact slipped out of suddenly numb fingers and landed on the carpet… but she barely even noticed it. Swallowing through the tightness in her throat, she sat down and began taking the time to carefully unbutton and rebutton her shirt.
Her timing was not the best, because right after she undid the last button and flapped the material to settle it back in place and begin rebuttoning, her office door was roughly shoved open. Her jaw dropped in horror.
The suited man who entered, was equally shocked. They were frozen in place, staring at one another.
Concerned, Jennifer's receptionist stepped around the man. "Is something wrong… siiir…?" her eyes widened at seeing Jen's state of undress.
Mortified, Jennifer pulled the sides of her blouse together, averting her eyes.
Shaking her head, Safia grabbed the man's cuff and lightly tugged. "Ah… One moment, sir. I need to help Miss Walters with something."
"… Yes," he responded, turning away as well. "That might be best…" from the tone of his voice, he was still very much in shock.
Closing the door behind him, Safia locked it and turned to her boss. Jennifer was still rooted in place, looking pale.
Hurrying over to Jennifer, she knelt in front of the brunette. "What's wrong?"
Swallowing hard, Jennifer felt her eyes tearing up. She barely suppressed a sob, biting down on her lips to keep quiet.
"Jen?" the bewildered brown-haired woman asked. Reaching up, she pulled the petite lawyer into a hug.
Feeling the floodgates open, Jennifer held on tight to Safia, crying into her hair.
She waited patiently, gently patting her boss' back until the woman's sobs lessened.
Sniffing noisily, Jennifer moved away from their hug, feeling more collected, but still upset.
"Feel like talking about it?" Safia asked.
Reluctantly, Jennifer nodded and began to work on her shirt again. "I don't…" she shook her head, trying to arrange her thoughts. "I don't know what happened."
The receptionist tried to understand. "You mean a few minutes ago…?"
"No," Jen replied, shaking her head. "No before… Before I got here." "You mean when I called?" she asked.
Biting her bottom lip, she sighed. "Before that."
"Before…?"
"I swear Safia, before I got in my car, it was 6:15 in the morning." "But now it's…"
"A lot later, I-" her eyes widened. "Jen?"
"I have to go!" the brunette stated, jumping up out of her seat and rushing out the office.
"Huh?" the suited man asked as the woman he came to speak with darted right past him.
"Ma'am?!" Safia called, running after her.
"I… I c-can't…" Wincing, Jennifer sped right around the corner, nearly colliding with another coworker, and hurried right into the bathroom.
Startled, the redhead dropped the stack of papers she was holding, printed pages flying all over. "Oh… Come on!" she yelled angrily.
Safia was more aware and avoided a near colliding with the redhead. "Boss?!"
12:03PM
"So… in closing, Miss Walters," the man continued. "That is the suggestion made on behalf of my client."
She stared at him; her eyes a bit glazed over. She wasn't even halfway on any side of being fully sure… as to what he was even saying. The words were all running together.
"Miss Walters?" he asked, noticing that he didn't have her full attention.
"Mm…" she shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sorry about that, Buck," she muttered. Out of all the people she would have needed to deal with… Buck Browski ended up being one of them.
How cruel was this world?
And why was he even in this location… at the law firm she worked with. Is this because we're representing clients in the same trial?
She wasn't in the mood to deal with him, or anyone today. As he resumed speaking, Jennfier tuned him out completely.
She just… wasn't feeling it today… or ever would be 'feeling' anything with Buck.
"Jennifer?" he spoke, trying to get her to look at him.
"We'll do this another day…" she said, staring at her hands, clasped on her desk.
"Jen?" Buck asked, brows arched high over the frames of his glasses. When she failed to respond, he pressed harder to get some sort of reaction out of her. "This isn't exactly something that can be pushed off until tomorrow."
"Buck…" she said then, glancing up at him. "You know where the door is."
Grimacing a bit at that, he turned around and listened to her instructions. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder. "This isn't over Jen-"
"What part of 'out' do you not understand?!" she yelled, snapping at him. "Get out! Out, out, out!"
Scrambling then, the other attorney let himself out, pulling the door closed behind himself.
It wasn't too soon, as her slipper violently impacted the door right after it clicked shut.
Exhaling in a rush, she got up out of her seat, then sat back down. "What is wrong with me?!" she asked herself, fingers tangling in her hair. She was about to start pulling in frustration when she heard the door opening again. "What part," she began angrily, not even looking. "Did you not understand about getting out of here?!"
"Ah…"
Eyes widening, Jennifer looked up. Her receptionist looked very uncomfortable. "I…" she sighed, resting her hands on her desk again. "Sorry." There wasn't much she could say other than that.
"Umm… Sure," Safia replied. She was holding a thick purple folder in her hands. Now though, she looked uncertain.
"… What is that?" the brunette asked, gesturing to the folder. "New client," she replied, her expression sour.
"Oh…"
After a moment of the two women staring at each other, Jennifer cleared her throat.
"Are you going to give me the folder?" she asked. Looking grim, Safia nodded, handing it to Jen. "Sure…"
"… Is something the matter?" Jen asked, not opening it yet. The expression on her receptionist's face wasn't a good one.
"It's just…" the woman fiddled with one of her fingernails while she looked at Jen. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Jennifer pushed the folder to the side… "Actually…" she hesitated a moment, trying to think.
Safia was about to turn around and leave when she heard Jen's voice.
"Maybe I need to go out for lunch," Noting her receptionist's surprise, the brunette got up, grabbed her purse, and went to retrieve her slipper. "I think that's a good idea."
"Uh, ma'am?" Safia spoke up. Jennifer looked over.
"Maybe I can just order you lunch?" she asked, bringing attention back to Jennifer's appearance.
Understanding, Jennifer blushed. "That… would be a better idea." "I'll get a menu from the place you usually go to, ma'am." "Sure…" Jennifer nodded.
After the woman left, Jennifer rested her elbows on her desk, and dropped her head in her hands. "I should have called out," she grumbled to herself. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes for a moment.
All to find herself being lightly shaken twenty minutes later. "Ugh?" "Oh good, you're awake!"
Grimacing a bit at the voice, Jennifer sat up, belatedly realizing she'd been laying on her desk, asleep. And drooling, from the feel of it. She wiped her mouth off with the back of her wrist.
"I have the menu here, ma'am," Safia stated, placing it in front of Jen.
"Hmm…" the petite lawyer murmured, rubbing her chin as she flipped through the pages.
1:01PM
"Are… you going to eat all of this, ma'am?" Safia asked, alarmed. She had checked twice before taking the order to the restaurant. The last thing she expected was for Jen to open both the containers once she brought them back. There was easily enough there for three people.
"Of course," Jennifer replied, grabbing the provided fork and digging in.
The receptionist coughed.
"Do you want to eat with me?" Jennifer asked. "Uh…"
"You got yourself something too, right?" Thirty Minutes Later…
Were Safia honest with herself, she never would have expected that she would be in the position of sitting right here with her boss, watching as the woman inhaled her food. She was just finishing her meal-and so was Jen. Except Jen's meal was a lot larger than hers.
She squinted, staring at the containers. It was literally two of everything. I thought that was lunch and dinner… Quietly, she sipped the ice tea she'd requested with her meal.
"I have to look at those keys later," Jennifer grumbled, her mind completely elsewhere.
"Excuse me?" Safia asked, understandably confused.
"The trailer." Jennifer explained, as if the other woman had any clue what she was talking about.
"… Okay." The receptionist commented. She got out of her seat. "I'll be at my desk, ma'am."
"Alright," Jen replied, seeming more at ease than she had the entire time she'd been at work.
After Safia left, she looked at the folder with some trepidation. The first thing that fell out of the folder and into her hands was a strange shape splattered on a white sheet of paper.
"Wait… is this?" the image looked familiar. She'd heard rumblings about some inkblot character leaving pages and envelops all over-all decorated with black ink. She didn't know what it meant… and wondered why she held a folder with the pages inside.
"Isn't this person involved with some smash and grabs?" she asked aloud. "Why do I have their file?"
Swallowing, eyes narrowing, Jennifer carefully upended the folder. All she saw were splashes of black and white… everywhere. She sorted through the pages carefully, looking for something, anything to explain why she was sent this. Wait… she thought after a moment. Was this sent to me personally or…?
Suddenly feeling nervous, she pushed her seat away from the desk and looked at her hands. All of her fingers and both palms had splotches of ink on them. "What is…?" Inhaling sharply, she swallowed hard and turned to her office door. "I need to wash my hands…" she murmured, beginning to shiver.
Had someone sent this to her-to send a message? She had no honest clue what was even in that ink.
Her heart was pounding so hard that she could almost swear she heard it. Her view suddenly changed and she saw herself… standing in the middle of her office, black ink inching towards her from all the pages. "What?!" she exclaimed, trying to run to her office door.
The ink was too strong and resigned, she let out a scream, trying to free herself still. Everything suddenly spun and grew dark.
The door to her office opened a few minutes later.
Safia stepped in, looking absent-mindedly at her planner. "Miss Walters," she said. "You have an appointment with…" as she continued to speak, she lifted her head. "Miss Walters?!"
Her employer was lying collapsed on the carpet, the papers still scattered across her desk.
To Be Continued…
Author's Note: Hey there! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
This particular piece was written during the November 2023 NanoWrimo competition. I remembered someone mentioned that the story was progressing too fast, so I decided to go and add in some more background information to show what Main Universe Jennifer was dealing with before the later chapters.
Have a great one and thanks for stopping by! ~J. Lyst