After several days in the palace, Shuri agreed that Cassie was probably fine to leave and move out to the cottage. T'Challa had shown her the location on a map, but honestly, if it wasn't a city, Cassie was pretty useless with directions. She had a vague idea of where things were but Wakanda was so far out of her usual experience that even seeing the map wouldn't do her any good. She was doubly glad that Erik had backed down regarding Riker's presence because she wanted to be sure that they would have help if they needed it. She didn't think Shuri or T'Challa would ever intentionally put her in danger, but she didn't imagine the regular citizens of Wakanda were particularly fond of The Usurper (as Queen Mother Ramonda referred to Erik).
The journey to the cabin itself was less pleasant that she might have hoped because she hated flying. She realized ruefully that she was almost grateful that she'd been unconscious from blood loss on her trip to Wakanda. Something about flying made her stomach unsettled. It was a running joke between her and Sam, her fear and dislike of flying was about equal to his love of the experience. She frowned a little at the thought of Sam. She'd been ignoring his calls for days. Shuri had handed her a phone the first day after she had woken up. It was high tech and slightly terrifying, but it was a phone, with all the usual features. She'd sent Sam a couple texts, but she dodged his calls, pretending she was busy doing Wakandan things. She'd been very vague about what those things might be. Mostly because she wasn't really doing much of anything.
It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Sam, it was more because he had become a brother to her and with her blood brother gone and her parents retired; Sam considered himself a protector as well. She was certain that being stabbed had cemented the idea that she needed a keeper in his brain. She didn't want a keeper, so she kept dodging his calls and saying nothing about the fact that she was planning to go to a remote location with someone who was in essence a serial killer.
Her most important belongings had showed up a few days into her stay in Wakanda. She had eyed Shuri suspiciously but hadn't asked any questions about how exactly someone had gotten into her house and packed her things in her own suitcase. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She did appreciate having her own clothes. She did wish, however, that whoever had packed her things had included a few more professional options for clothing because she had a feeling she was going to need the extra barrier for her "sessions" with Erik. They hadn't however, and she was stuck with her usual wardrobe of leggings, jeans and a series of tanks and cardigans.
The cabin was situated far away from the rest of the populated areas of Wakanda, almost invisible among the woods on the mountainside. They hadn't actually landed anywhere near the cabin and had hiked a good distance to reach it. Oddly enough, the distance and terrain made her feel much better about her chances of making it through without herself or Stevens being attacked by a disgruntled Wakandan. Knowing Riker would also be staying in the cabin with them was comforting. She didn't know the War Dog very well, but she felt infinitely more comfortable with him than she would have felt staying alone in the cabin with her "patient".
She wasn't even sure where to start. Her questions during her sessions with Stevens in the prison had been designed to draw a response from him. She wanted to see how he reacted to certain stimuli and then use that information to formulate her assessment for the government. She had done all the necessary research into his background before ever setting foot in the prison and with the wealth of knowledge she'd gained, she was unsure what angle to take when speaking to Stevens. She was especially concerned since she was positive that Stevens wasn't particularly interested in therapy at all. The fact that she had no idea what Stevens wanted or how he planned to accomplish his desires made her very nervous. The only thing she knew for sure that Stevens wanted was her. And honestly, she wasn't sure that he was even serious about that desire. Basically, all her research had given her nothing. She was sure that she could predict how Stevens might react to basic scenarios, but she had no idea what was really going on in his head and that made her incredibly nervous. She had, prior to this point, done her best to avoid situations of active danger. Staying anywhere near Stevens, given his history and her response to him on a physical level, was dangerous—and honestly stupid.
Still, she'd agreed to remain his therapist and that entailed sessions where she tried to guide him into healthier thought patterns. She chewed her lower lip as she considered possible treatment plans. His government training might have been the worst thing in the world for his mental state as far as she was concerned. Though, she couldn't imagine how they could possibly have refused someone with his background and skill set. The level of intelligence Stevens possessed would have been intimidating even if she weren't planning on digging around in his brain.
She shifted her weight on the fallen tree she was sitting on in the middle of the modest clearing not far from the cabin. She'd retreated almost immediately after T'Challa, Nakia, and Okoye had left them. She didn't want to be present if Riker and Stevens decided to get into a pissing match over the rooms. She'd dumped her bags on the bed in a room that overlooked a bubbling creek that ran past the cabin and decamped for the clearing, leaving the men to sort themselves and their rooming arrangements themselves. She'd folded her legs up under her and was perched on a fallen log, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of exotic birds and running water. She didn't have a plan, possibly for the first time in her life. She was going to be taking every day as it came. And she hated it. Almost as much as she hated her—what had Stevens called them—powers.
That was the real reason she was sitting out in the clearing by herself. She didn't want to think about the bane of her existence, she really didn't want to think about it with Riker and Stevens around. Both were freakishly observant, and she didn't want to answer questions when she didn't have answers for herself. Ever since the accident she'd been doing her best to pretend that everything was normal when it was anything but. She had done a decent job. Until her brother had died and she'd lost control. Sam was the only person who'd known the truth. Until the hallway. Until Stevens had outed her without a second thought. He wasn't afraid of her though, he didn't even seem impressed. Of course, he had no idea what she was actually capable of doing because she'd done her best to make sure no one knew. Hell, she wasn't even sure what her limitations might be, and she didn't know that she wanted to start testing them. She thought she might need to. After what had happened in the hallway, she realized that she needed to be prepared. And spending time out in the middle of nowhere gave her a golden opportunity to figure things out without putting anyone else at risk.
Her decision made about her own situation, her thoughts turned back to Stevens. Since she'd already spent an embarrassing amount of time considering their arrangement, she just shook her head and decided to stick to her previously decided plan of action: be cautious and try her best to actually treat him until she figured out what he really wanted. She sighed loudly and shifted her feet back to the ground at the same time that Stevens appeared silently out of the woods from the opposite direction of the cabin. She didn't jump, but it was a close thing and her heart was beating double time. All she said though, was, "Sorted out the rooming arrangements?" When he didn't answer, she glanced over at his face and realized he was frowning at her, "What?"
He just looked down at her for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face before he finally spoke, "You shouldn't be out here by yourself."
She laughed. "You're serious?" She shook her head at him, "We're out in the middle of nowhere, no one knows we're here except your cousins and the General." She stood, genuinely irritated with him, "And, if anyone is going to be the target of assassins, it's certainly not me." She started walking in the direction of the cabin, her footsteps a little heavier than necessary, "After all, I haven't taken part in any unsuccessful coup attempts."
His hand shot out and snagged her by the upper arm, tugging her close, "I'm not the only one with a past. What you did in that hallway wasn't exactly innocuous, Doc."
Her temper redlined. She yanked her arm loose. "I'm not talking about that."
"C'mon, Doc. You know everything about me." His voice was deceptively even, but she could see the way the corners of his mouth were tight.
Too angry to be cautious or professional, she barely managed to keep her voice under a yell, "I know all about you because you are a criminal. You tried to take over a country and you killed a literal shit-ton of people. I read your file because you might be completely unredeemable, and I was supposed to find out if you could ever function like a normal human again. So the situations are not comparable. At all." She walked a few steps away, pretending she hadn't seen something akin to hurt flash across his face when she started speaking, "And furthermore, what I did could be considered self-defense. Especially since it got me stabbed. Repeatedly."
"I remember what happened." Stevens' eyes were cold. "I also remember saving your ass."
She felt herself softening a little bit, but she had no intention of discussing her powers or how she'd attained them with anyone, let alone Stevens, so she pushed on, "And I thanked you for that. But it doesn't mean that I'm going to give you my life story just because you ask. I don't trust you. I don't know what you want with me but I'm pretty damn sure it's not therapy."
He closed the distance between them lazily and backed her against a tree. He kept his hands off her, leaning his weight on the one hand braced against the tree beside her head, the other hand in the pocket of his cargo pants. "You know exactly what I want from you. I was pretty clear, I thought, what with my fingers being damn near in that wet pussy of yours." His eyes were locked on her face, checking for any change of expression.
Her spine straightened instinctively, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "You might want sex, but that's not your primary interest in me. I'm not dumb enough to believe that. But don't bother telling me what you want. I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually." She ducked under his arm and stomped back to the cabin where Riker greeted her temperamental entrance with a confused glance.