An introverted waitress stumbles into Captain America during Loki's attack on New York. After taking a bullet for him, he lets her go, wondering. She's on the run, but he can't know that. When she meets the Avengers again, escape is all but impossib...
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AMERICA'S POV
"Your talk was really good," I tell Sam as we walk out of the VA. I had just hung back while he gave the talk, listening. "I can see why they like you."
"Thanks. After I left active duty, I wanted a way to give back. PTSD's no cakewalk, and some of these guys have got it bad. I do what I can." I like that about him. Sam Wilson doesn't seem to be one to brag. He glances over at me. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you handle it?"
I stare at him, shocked and a little apprehensive. "I didn't say I have PTSD."
"You get used to recognizing it," he replies, giving me a half-smile. "A lot of vets who come in claiming nothing's wrong. Five minutes later they're falling apart. And if half of what the papers said is true, about all you've been through, that's enough to mess up anyone. The fact that you live on despite your past is a strength."
That's a little personal. But he's not asking specifics, he's asking how I deal with it. As I choose to be honest. "I wake up crying most nights. Spend an hour convincing myself it wasn't real. The dark makes it worse. Sometimes I talk to Steve, which helps, but I don't like to wake him up. Most of the time, I just don't sleep that much. But I'm okay. Or I'd at least like to think I'm getting better."
Sam nods, thinking it over. "When I came back after Afghanistan, I wasn't plagued with nightmares or anything. No flashbacks. None of that. I just couldn't get adjusted. I didn't know who to be after battle. I felt like a different man, you know?"
I know. I know that better than anyone.
"So I started working with the VA, because I thought I could help others figure themselves out and hopefully figure myself out, too."
"What branch?"
"United States Air Force. Hey, are you hungry?" I nod, and we cross to a street vendor. I try to pay, but he waves me off. He hands me a hot dog and we continue walking on.
"Thanks," I say.
"How long have you been in Washington?" He asks, taking a bite.
"A few weeks," I reply. "I love it, and I've been all over. Any places you'd recommend? They like to send Steve on missions more than me, so I get bored."
"Let's see... the Smithsonian is always worth visiting. The different monuments. The Library of Congress is the biggest one in the world. And Palmer Alley is really artsy, if you're into that kind of thing."
"What is it?"
"It's a street, but it always is decorated by season. Kind of hard to explain, but it's cool."
"I'll have to check it out." A breeze flutters my hair away from my face. In the afternoon light, it looks almost red. "This is already my favorite place I've ever lived."
