A/N
Welcome (back) to Trigger. I don't believe any other introduction is necessary, save that this takes place post Captain America: Civil War, which means Tony Stark is still alive. For now, at least.
Love you 3000.
x Noelle
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" – IT WAS TERRIFYING."
The woman paused, her eyes squeezing shut as a shudder wracked through her body. When she opened her eyes again, the expression on her face was haunted, like the memory of it was fresh as yesterday.
"It was – all a blur, just a lot screaming and shouting and – dead people," the woman continued, after a lengthy pause. "Especially dead people. I kept hearing the cops say, 'ma'am, you have to get out of the way, you have to get out of the way', but every which way I turned, there was a dead body and an alien who'd just shot the person dead."
The woman stopped and leaned back in her chair. It was clear that she was done. Dakota stared at the table as she traced random lines across the wood. There were so many things she could say. She just had to pick the right one.
"Sandra," She started at last, crossing one leg over the other and shifting forward slightly in her seat. The other woman was already waiting expectantly, and Dakota smiled. "Have you heard of the Avengers?"
Sandra blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. "You mean the – the green man-thing and the...tin man – "
"Iron man, yes." Dakota laughed gently and shook her head, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. "The group that saved the New York city when the aliens invaded. The group that saved you."
"I've heard of them, but I'm not sure what you're getting at."
"I'm saying that in a world where a lot of crazy stuff happens, it's nice to have faith," Dakota explained. "People like us want to believe in superheroes because when bad things happen, they're the only constants we can turn to. Your nightmares are frightening and you get anxiety attacks and that's fine. You're not alone. We all have monsters in our heads and ghosts that haunt us."
The woman sniffled and Dakota reached for the box of tissues to hand one to her.
"Every time you have a bad day," she continued, "remember that day. Remember that there are survivors still lost and scared like you. Every time you need something to believe in, remember that there's a group of superheroes out there who will – "
She stopped as a person walked past. The windows were tinted so that any passerby couldn't look in, but she could the outside perfectly. Had her eyes played a trick on her?
She could've sworn she'd just seen Steve Rogers walk past. Blue cap, leather jacket, broad shoulders. All that was lacking was that classic shield strapped to his back.
"Ms Summers?"
Dakota pulled herself together and shot an apologetic look at the woman. "A group of superheroes who will protect you," she finished. "No matter what."
The woman dabbed at her tears again. Dakota suddenly noticed a bruise on her wrist. And another on her jaw. The woman tugged her sleeve back down. Dakota had been so sure that the diagnosis was right: post-traumatic stress disorder thanks to the New York incident. But now, she wasn't so sure.
Maybe the monster she feared was back at home.
The woman noticed Dakota staring and, almost self-consciously, she lowered her head. Dakota leaned forward, folding her arms over the table. "You know something, Sandra?" She started quietly, "There are other times when we have to be our own superheroes."
That was trigger enough for the woman to start crying again, silent sobs into another tissue that Dakota quickly offered. She was just about to let the woman know that their time could be extended when there was a knock on the door.
The door opened before she could say anything and a man stuck his head in, the usually bright expression on his face unexpectedly serious. "Dot," he said, ignoring the crying woman and looking at Dakota. "Do you have a moment?"
Dakota's eyebrows shot up. "Not now, Sam. Can't you see that I'm with a – "
"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry. But this is really important."
Sam Wilson had played plenty of pranks on her in the past, but judging by the grave look on his face, this was different. Dakota sighed and nodded. "Okay," She shook her head apologetically at the woman opposite and stood up, placing a comforting hand on Sandra's shoulder. "Take some time to gather your thoughts. You don't have to tell me everything when I get back; just whatever you want to tell me. You don't have to tell me anything at all if you don't want to."
Sniffling, the woman nodded. "Thanks, Ms Summers."
Leaving the woman in the room, Dakota followed Sam out into the hallway. The place was empty, save for a man who stared at the bulletin board, hands clasped behind his back in a rigidly straight pose. Almost like he was standing for inspection in the army.
"Steve," Sam called in a low voice.
The man turned and strode swiftly towards them. The moment the man saw Dakota, he tipped his hat at her, smiling in such a bashful, boyish manner that it almost seemed out of place on a man with his built.
Dakota stilled when she realised that her earlier suspicion was right. That was Steve Rogers she'd seen earlier. It was just so bizarre she could barely believe her eyes. She tried to maintain her composure and offered him a polite smile in return. Really, she was just seconds away from belting out that classic Captain America tune right in front of him.
"Steve, this is Dakota Summers," Sam introduced, grinning at the way Dakota was staring at his friend with wide eyes. "Dot, this is Steve Rogers."
"Dot?" Steve questioned, gazing at her in surprise. There was something searching about Steve's gaze, like he was trying but failing to recall her. She'd never even met him before.
Sam frowned at Steve's question. "Yes, that's what we call her. Is there something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing," Steve said quickly, before seeming to remember his manners and held out a polite hand. "Ma'am."
Dakota took his hand and shook, trying to conceal her surprise when she found that his hand practically engulfed her dainty one whole. "Mr Rogers."
"It's just Steve," he assured her, before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm sorry we had to call you out of the room. But Sam has a mission to see to, and he'd appreciate if you could take over his session later on at three – "
"Steve." Sam shot him a flat look. "Why're you taking away all my fun of explaining to Dot the protocol here?"
Dakota was more than amused to see Captain America, the figure of propriety and goodness, roll his eyes at Sam. "Fine," he muttered, before waving vaguely at Sam in a dismissive gesture. "Go ahead. Have fun."
" – at three-thirty," Sam finished, before glaring at Steve. "See? There's nothing left for me to say, man. You took it all."
Steve rolled his eyes again, which didn't surprise her. She did it a lot around Sam too, given that they were colleagues when he wasn't busy, well, Avenging.
Dakota let out a quiet breath and looked up at Sam, shifting uneasily on her feet. "Your three thirty session's for war veterans. You know I'm not good at that."
"You underestimate yourself. I've seen you in counselling sessions before. You're good at what you do. Just listen to them. That's all they need – someone who wants to listen."
"It would really help us if you could," Steve added. "Sam wouldn't have to leave if it wasn't for a code-red situation."
She let out a sigh and relented. How could one refuse when Captain America asked for a favour anyway? "Alright."
"Thanks, kid," Sam pulled her into a one-armed hug that always reminded her of something an older brother did to his little sister. Not that she had a brother to begin with but it was – comforting, Dakota supposed. Sam grinned and fell a step back. "I'll see you when I see you."
"Stay safe."
Steve shook her hand again and the two bade her goodbye before they left. Dakota turned back to the room when she heard Sam's voice echo down the hallway.
"You think he's good to go?"
"T'challa fixed an arm," Steve returned. "They've got good technology in Wakanda. Better than Stark's, even."
Dakota puzzled over their words, before she realised it was none of her business. She shrugged and stepped back into the room.
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A quiet knock sounded in the middle of the night. She ignored it at first, and tried to go back to sleep. But the knocks continued. Reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed, pulled on a robe and went to the door.
Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson were the last people she expected to see when she looked through the peephole.
She hastily opened the door and waved them in. "What happened to you boys?"
Steve's lips twitched. "Boys?"
"When she calls you that, you're friend-zoned," quipped Sam, even as he set his backpack down on the floor, along with some contraption that looked a lot like folded wings. "You know there's going to be an apocalypse when a woman friend-zones Captain America."
Steve blinked. "Friend-zone?"
"Twenty-first century lingo for teenagers. Add it to that list of things you should know, but will probably never be able to catch up with."
As entertained as she was by their banter, Dakota couldn't help but feel a little alarmed, especially when she saw Steve haul in a huge, black canvas bag into the house, before shutting the door. "What's going on?"
Steve and Sam exchanged a glance. "I'll secure the perimeter," said Steve at last. "You can do the explaining."
"Oh, take the fun explanations and leave the boring ones to me," Sam shot over his shoulder as Steve stepped out of the house. Dakota could still hear Steve's amused chuckle as he shut the door behind him. Once they were alone, Sam settled down tiredly on the couch before peering up at Dakota. "We've had a rough day."
"No, really?" She smiled and went to get the first-aid box. This wasn't the first time she'd seen him all bruised and bloodied, but this was definitely the first time he'd come to her place after a mission. "Do you want some coffee? Tea?"
"Coffee, thanks. And one for Steve too," Sam returned, as he started to treat his injuries. "Listen, Dot, we're in a fix and need your help."
"I figured," she acknowledged, and went to boil a pot of water. "You need a place to lay low?"
"See, this is why I sometimes think that you're secretly an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. I mean, apart from the fact that you'd probably blow off your own head if you held a gun in your hands."
"Your concern about my potential method of death is touching, but do get to the point."
"Alright." Sam left the medicine and started to rummage through the fridge. "So we were in Wakanda today, and – "
"Pizza, second shelf from the bottom."
" – sweet." Sam eagerly reached for the box and pulled it out, setting it down on the counter. "Anyway, there was some sort of emergency in Wakanda. I'd like to tell you the details but...well, it's better if you don't know, for safety reasons. Long story short – Wakanda was raided, Steve and I went to rescue something, and now we need to hide it here."
Dakota blinked. She hadn't even a clue where Wakanda was. But, well, hiding things didn't seem like too much of a ridiculous request. She could probably loosen one of the floorboards or something. "Question," she said, at length, turning on the coffee maker to make a fresh batch of coffee. "Will I be in danger? I won't get ambushed by Wakandans or anything, right?"
"Oh, no, you're good," Sam assured her. He was entirely focused on the conversation but his eyes, however, were fixated on the pizza in the microwave. "Steve and I will have you covered. We'll be camping out at your place for a couple of days – if you don't mind – and once we find another safehouse, we'll be out of here as soon as we can."
A couple of days, two Avengers, one precious item. It didn't seem so bad. It'd probably even be safer than usual. Dakota eased back against the counter and shrugged. "Sure, I guess. You can hide out here for a few days."
"Great." Sam gave her an approving grin and swiftly headed out of the kitchen, kneeling down beside the huge bag that Steve had lugged in. "Now I'd like to show you what we saved from Wakanda."
Dakota followed him and watched as he struggled with the knot on the bag. It was bound tight; made of porous material. She knelt down beside him. "Here, let me."
"No, I've got it." Sam kept it out of her reach. He pulled out a knife from the side of his boot, then dragged it through the material. "Here we go," he said cheerfully and tugged the bag aside. She gasped and fell back in horror.
Because inside the bag lay a man in a half-frozen state, his eyes shut and completely unconscious.
Dakota stared wide-eyed at the man, struggling to catch her breath and recover from her shock. Forget every and any surprise she'd ever witnessed in her life. This took the icing off the cake. She'd worry about the irony later, because yeah, this man was sure as hell iced.
Sam simply reached out a hand to pull her upright, his laughter amused in the stunned silence. "Not everyday that you fall for a guy you just met, huh?"