The Gods Must Be Crazy

by aprill99

As a daughter of Apollo and a granddaughter of Mercury who has lived through wars with Titans, Giants, and undead Romans, Cassie is well aware that "normal" must be judged on a curve. Still, the invasion of a Norse god backed by an alien army is taking it a little far. Now she's involved with the Avengers and it seems like life won't be getting less weird. The gods must be crazy.

4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No in every way you can think of to say it in every language imaginable.

Cassie gets approximately two days to enjoy the month of April before the entire situation goes, as the military types say, FUBAR. And when Cassie says FUBAR, she means really really freaking FUBAR. Not a little bit FUBAR. Like, all the way plus extra percentages of FUBAR. Mathematically improbable levels of FUBAR.

To be fair, those two days are a pretty solid forty-eight hours. Cassie has definitely had worse two day time spans. For perusal she offers any two days of any summer she had had since meeting Percy Jackson at age twelve.

So by Cassie's personal scale April first and second of 2014 are perfectly good days. She aces an exam, has a pretty good shift as an observer at G.W hospital (not a nurse named Kate is nowhere to be found), and scores some really awesome falafel for lunch. She gets her apartment vacuumed which she's been meaning to do for quite a while and bakes up a seriously awesome batch of chocolate chip cookies using Sally Jackson's recipe minus the blue food coloring.

That fantastic reign of utterly normal productivity begins it's screeching halt early on the morning of the third day of the month. The shift she had ended up taking had started at eleven pm the night before on April third (a day that will forever serve in Cassie's memory as the final sanity demarcation on her life). She finishes at four AM on April forth and because it's such a weird time she can't catch a bus home or take the metro with any degree of ease and calling a cab would take forever so Cassie decides to walk home.

To be completely clear Cassie doesn't recommend walking home alone in D.C post ten at night and pre six in the morning no matter who you are or what neighborhood you're in. However, Cassie happens to have a slight advantage over the average potential mugger given that she's seventy-five percent god. She figures she can handle a gang banger with a switchblade, and that's not over confidence, just truth. One highly confused earthborn that has no business in a city and about a half hour later Cassie's unlocking her front door and crossing the lobby with vague hopes of getting some sleep before her morning lecture at ten.

Because Steve Rogers is a genetically perfected all-American super soldier he's leaving his apartment as Cassie comes up the stairs. They seem to have these sorts of brush-by meetings a lot and Cassie for one is suspicious of the timing. The next time she sees the three fates she plans to demand some serious answers. She's willing to threaten them with their own knitting needles if she has to.

He's dressed to go jogging in impeccably tied sneakers, track pants, and a grey-blue athletic tee shirt. Given that Cassie is female, heterosexual, and alive, she takes a moment to appreciate the way that the high-tech fabric stretches across his shoulders, lending definition to his pectorals and showing hints of his abdominals.

Hey, she's a med student and the child of a very artistic god. She is fully able to appreciate the aesthetic beauty that is Steve Rogers in a tight shirt and frankly feels that it might be her duty to do so given that she does have ample opportunity. Waste not, want not, as they say.

Cassie doesn't plan on wasting a thing.

"Good morning," Cassie greets as brightly as she can. The interaction had hit the point where not talking would be extremely awkward so she goes for basic and accurate.

Steve might or might not notice that she's just been staring at his chest. If he does it doesn't seem to bother him because he gives her a smile as he fiddles with his keys. "Good morning. Are you just getting in?"

Cassie nods. "Yeah. My shift ended at four. Depending on what time it is now, I think I might have time for three hours of sleep and a load of laundry before my first class."

"I don't know how you do it," Steve says with a little shake of the head. "That's a lot of work and not much sleep."

"Judicious napping," Cassie tells him dryly. "And after this long in school I've pretty much trained myself to treat sleep as a luxury and not a given." The statement is completely true in everything except the part about school. The last time Cassie had a completely reliable sleep schedule that a normal person would have found acceptable she had just graduated the portion of her education wherein napping was scheduled for her.

She shrugs a bit as a thought occurs to her. "If none of that works there's always coffee. Failing that, I've heard good things about methanphetamines." Not that she would ever be able to use them. Cassie's demigod system thoroughly rejected most drugs if they were any stronger than something like Advil or cough syrup. Yet another fun effect of her screwy genetic coding.

Steve gives a small smile and Cassie steps aside and towards her door to let him past her down the stairs. Before he moves though, he hesitates, still flipping his keyring around his finger and in to his palm and down again. "You know," he says. There's a note in his voice that Cassie would almost label as being nervous if it was coming from almost any other person on the planet. "About your laundry... I have a machine. You know," he waves a hand back in towards his apartment door. "In there. You could," he wavers for a moment like he isn't sure where his own offer is going. "Use it? Maybe. If you wanted."

To her own surprise Cassie feels her cheeks warm and knows she's blushing. She dearly hopes that the serum Steve received didn't give him night vision of some kind. If she's lucky the low light in the hallway might cover up her blushing. However, Cassie knows her own life well enough to be almost positive that she isn't that lucky. She still has to say something though so she does her best. "I guess," she says slowly. "That would be a lot closer than going all the way down to the basement."

The look of relief on Steve's face could be almost comical. Clearly he feels she's steered the conversation in to a somewhat safe area. "It's much cheaper too," he adds.

In the next moment Cassie does something she can only claim as an instance of temporary insanity. It's partly Steve's own fault because his comment gets a whole host of inappropriate thoughts running through her head and Cassie is impulsive by nature so that all has to be expressed somehow. What she does is straighten and flip some of her blonde hair out of her face. "Oh yeah?" she asks. "What's it cost?"

Yup. Cassie's sticking with temporary insanity. She doesn't care if it doesn't hold up in court very often. She'll make it work.

It's insane but it suddenly seems to be Steve's turn to be embaressed. A pink flush creeps across his cheek bones and Cassie isn't sure but it's possible that the tops of his ears are turning red. Despite that he's more put together than she was with her reply. Instead of any awkward fumbling for words he squares his shoulders like he's going in to battle, looks her dead in the eyes and says, "A cup of coffee."

Cassie tips her head but doesn't close the gap between them physically just yet. Steve seems to be being careful not to crowd her and as a girl who has spent more than enough time fighting in enclosed spaces Cassie appreciates it. Besides, she gets the feeling that this offer is something more than neighborly friendship. This moment feels almost fragile and Cassie refuses to be the one to break it. "I see," she says, and her voice sounds odd to her own ears. "Does it cost another cup to use your dryer?"

For a brief moment Steve looks almost stunned, but he recovers quickly and swallows. "No," he says with a shake of his head. Then he does take a step forwards but he does it slowly, telegraphing his moves like he's afraid he'll move too fast and spook her. The notion almost makes Cassie giggle as it crosses her mind because of all of the possible metaphorical implications it represents.

As he approaches Cassie holds her ground in her doorway. She's forced to tip her head back as he gets closer and is suddenly struck by just how tall Steve actually is. Cassie is used to people being taller than she is, she's short enough that it's possible Steve would have been taller than her pre-serum, but this feels different somehow. This is a deliberate invasion of her personal space by a man who's being very careful to be close without touching her. Even without physical contact, Cassie can feel the warmth of Steve's body heat changing the air around her. The doctor in her wonders if that's an effect of an updated metabolism. The part of her that's a woman with a man she suddenly finds no issue admitting she's physically attracted to is glitching too badly to form a coherent thought.

Steve stops about six inches away. "Maybe, dinner next time we can both swing it?" he suggests.

"Dinner?" Cassie asks.

"Or breakfast," he says easily. His tone is light but his eyes are as serious as Cassie has ever seen them. "Whatever comes first." He shrugs a shoulder. "Whichever we have time for. Whichever you want." He eases himself back a little way, opening up space between them again. "That's the price for the dryer."

Somehow he manages to look both deadly serious and incredibly hopeful. The combination makes his face seem open and vulnerable at the same time and something in Cassie feels like it's melting a little. His eyes are soft and blue and the darkness of the color makes her think of deep water at the bottom of a cliff.

Cassie forces herself to stop for a moment and think. She's not emotionally or socially inept and she knows instinctually that whatever she does next won't be something that she'll be able to back up from. Cassie takes one last deep breath and then... she jumps. She takes a step towards him, shifting her body and closing the gap he'd opened. With steady hands she reaches out and takes the key he still holds lonely in his palm.

He lets the key pass from his fingers to hers easily, staring down at her like he's not yet completely certain that this conversation has gone the way his ears and eyes are telling him it has. The metal is warm in her palm and Cassie holds it up a little so that Steve's sure to be able to see that she has it before she tucks it carefully in to her coat pocket. Then she meets his eyes again. "I can do coffee any time," she says carefully and is slightly gratified by the way his eyes widen. "Dinner though," she continues. "That'll be harder to arrange. It might take some planning."

The smile Steve unleashes on her then is damn near blinding and so freaking adorable Cassie almost can't stand it. "Planning's not actually a problem for me."

Feeling as though she's crossed some kind of Rubicon Cassie nods once decisively. "Good." Then, feeling as though as long as the river's crossed she might as well enjoy the view, she takes another step and then they are very definitively sharing personal space. She puts a hand on his shoulder and the other on his forearm and uses the leverage to pull up on to her toes and places a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'll look forward to it."

She drops back down on to the flats of her feet and steps back quickly, unlocking her door without looking at it. She can't look at her door because she's busy looking up at Steve who's expression is morphing slowly in to one of stunned happiness. His smile has turned in to a pleased grin and that combined with the pink still in his cheeks is simply unfair.

It takes him a moment to mobilize and apparently get his thoughts together which is enough time for Cassie to open her door and take a step backwards until she's standing in the doorframe. "I have to go," he says, hooking a thumb back at the stairs. "I have a run... down on the mall."

"I have a class at ten," she tells him. "Are you okay with me leaving your key somewhere if you aren't back by then?"

"I don't think any one is going to be all that tempted to rob me," Steve says dryly and Cassie has to concede that he's probably right. The rotating teams of highly armed agents outside is probably a good deterrent too, but they aren't talking about that right now. "I should be back before you go but it's possible I might... have to be somewhere. If it's going to be a while I'll tell you somehow and you can keep the key 'till I'm back."

Cassie leans on the frame with her arms crossed. "Agent postal service seemed to work okay last time."

"I'm glad you got that," Steve says sincerely. "I wasn't sure that SHIELD would follow through."

"The message was lovingly hand delivered by a bald man whose ability to crush my fingers is something that I have total faith in," she assures him. "Anyway, if you want to get to your run maybe you should..." she makes a vague gesture towards the stairs. The evil evil stairs.

The reminder kick starts him. "Right," he starts to back up. His smile isn't at all diminished from what it was earlier and he doesn't turn away from her to face forwards until his foot hits the creaky top step. "I'll see you for coffee!" he calls.

"Enjoy your run," she calls back.

It's not her best ever parting line but at that moment Cassie doesn't particularly care. It's early and she's had a long night that included too much coffee and not enough sleep yet. Snappy comebacks are not yet requisite during this time frame.

Besides, she's pretty sure she's just agreed to go on as many as two dates with Steve Rogers/Captain America, the extremely handsome, surprisingly intelligent, shockingly sweet, shy, and charming super hero extraordinaire and golden boy representative of the forties, American values, and patriotism in general.

Snappy comebacks can freaking bite her right now for all she cares.

Cassie rides the shockwave of the morning's events through a solid three hour nap and a ten minute shower. After getting dressed she does battle with her hairdryer for approximately five minutes before giving up and throwing her hair in to a messy bun to dry on its own. Her laundry basket is ready to go so she fills a thermos with coffee and steps in to the hallway with the basket balanced on her hip and the mug firmly in hand.

She pauses briefly on the landing, inches from pulling the cowardly move and ducking down in to the basement with a pile of quarters. She gives herself a firm shake and yells at herself to get over it. Given she's already agreed to date the man it's a little late to have second thoughts about using the washing machine that prompted the event.

With that thought in mind and the key that Steve gave her feeling like a led weight in her pocket, she crosses the hall in five steps and fishes it out of her pocket. It takes a bit of a jiggle and a firmer turn than her own door does but a moment later the door swings open. She supposes Steve's enhanced strength probably means he doesn't notice if his front door sticks a little. Cassie's own strength isn't exactly average, but in everyday life that normally just asserts itself by making her generally more durable. Demonstrating anything approaching true super strength means a more deliberate action.

The inspection Cassie manages to make of Steve's apartment as she hunts for the washing machine reveals that his place is pretty much the exact reverse layout of hers with a little bit more space and nicer appliances. What she sees of it is also painfully devoid of personal items. Well, not by Cassie's standards really, but she does actually keep a few personal photos around. There's one of her mother holding her as a baby, a photo strip with Thalia, Luke, and Annabeth, one of her with her siblings at camp, and two or three more of various combinations of her friends.

Steve doesn't have anything like that anywhere that she can plainly see it. It's possible he does have photos somewhere more private, like his bedroom, but Cassie does have limits to how far she's willing to snoop if her life isn't in danger somehow and right now it isn't.

Another huge difference between her apartment and Steve's is the overall level of tidiness. Everything in the place is military neat and uniform from the furniture to the plates and glasses on the exposed shelving in his kitchen. Cassie isn't a slob because she's never had enough stuff or space to get messy and despite having lived in her apartment for almost two full years she can be packed and gone without leaving a trace in under an hour. Looking at Steve's place, she's pretty sure he could be out and gone in fifteen minutes and not feel at all like he was leaving behind anything personal.

The washing machine and the dryer are side by side and tucked out of the way in a slightly recessed alcove that might have possibly been a closet once upon a time judging from the screen that can be closed over it. Both machines look modern but not so fancy that she can't figure out how to get the settings she wants so she throws in her clothes with a cap full of detergent she borrows shamelessly from the bottle places helpfully on a shelf to the left of the dryer. It's a bit of a stretch for her because the shelf was installed for Steve who must have at least a foot on her. Steve's already given her permission to use the washer and since he's given her a key to his place she figures he won't begrudge her a few tablespoons worth of laundry soap.

As her clothes spin around Cassie curls up on the ground next to the machine and lets her mind drift. She'd had a teacher tell her a story once about an autistic boy who had slept on top of the washing machine for years because the rhythmic thumping was calming. Cassie hadn't quite grasped the concept then, but with the machine thumping away at her back lulling her towards sleep again she thinks she gets it now.

Before she can drift too far the machine stops and Cassie realizes it's already been half an hour. She shifts the load over to the dryer and starts that before starting to run a lead of whites in the wash. Her whites are dry and all of her clothes are back in her laundry basket when there's a knock on the door and Cassie freezes.

It's a fairly gentle knock. Nothing about it says 'a hostel force is about to break down the door so duck and cover and find the closest possible weapon' but Cassie doesn't have much faith left in the universe.

On the other hand, this isn't her apartment, it's Steve's. Steve is one of the few people who is probably a reliably rational human being this early in the morning. Cassie isn't generally in a position to track who visits Steve and when so for all she knows he has visitors at this hour on a regular basis.

The knock sounds again so Cassie follows an impulse and goes to answer it, full basket now back on her hip. She's not entirely certain that it's within her purview, or what Steve might have imagined when he handed her his key, but she's there so she figures 'screw it'. Before the knock sounds again she yanks the door open to find Natasha Romanov standing outside with her hand raised.

For a moment neither of them do anything besides blink at each other, running assessments of each other. Cassie has a pretty good idea of what she's up against with the other woman already having seen her fighting style during the battle of Manhattan. If it comes down to a fight between them she figures that at the least she'll have the element of surprise. However, that's not actually a fight she's particularly interested in having.

In the interest of breaking a silence that's teetering dangerously on the boarder of becoming awkward Cassie forces herself to speak. "Hi," she says.

"Hello," Natasha replies. Her voice is carefully neutral but the corner of her mouth is turning up at one side and there's a mysterious looking spark in her eyes.

That look could potentially spell trouble later in life and Cassie braces herself for anything that might come next. She has a pretty good idea of what the situation looks like from the other woman's point of view but she's not entirely sure how best to address it so she just says, "Steve said I could borrow his washing machine this morning while he was out. He didn't mention he was expecting someone."

"This is an unplanned visit," Natasha says. "Something came up at work. Our boss asked me to come pick him up on the way in." Cassie nods and refuses to twitch under the searching look the other woman is pinning her with. She's stared down gods, titans, and literal giants before. She refuses on principle to blink in the face of Natasha Romanov. "I've met you before," she says. "You're that Med student who patched us up after New York."

"I moved here after that," Cassie explains. "I liked the city but I figured, with aliens falling from the sky, maybe it was time to make a change."

Natasha tips her head, regarding Cassie with an expression she can't quite read. "That's one hell of a coincidence," she comments conversationally.

This Cassie understands. She knows what suspicion is like. Hell, when Steve had first moved in she had seriously considered the possibility that one god or another was screwing with her. She still isn't sure that's not the case. With a shrug she offers Natasha the same explanation she's been telling herself for months on end now. "Well, fate's a bitch with a twisted sense of humor I guess."

Natasha actually smiles at that and holds out a hand. "I'm Nat," she says. "It's nice to meet you."

Cassie shifts her basket to free her other hand. "Cassie," she says. "And likewise."

The moment her hand touches Natasha's Cassie realizes she's made a mistake. You can tell a lot about someone by their hands if you know what to look for, and Cassie's hands bear years of scaring and evidence of broken and healed bones that not even magic can ever erase. The skin is a bit chapped from constant washing her cuticles are ragged because she has a bad habit of picking at them when she's distracted.

Most importantly though, Cassie's hands are archers hands. They are lined with particular calluses all along the finger she uses to draw the string and hold her bow. The toughened skin follows a very particular pattern and Cassie knows that Natasha will recognize it. The woman's long time partner is one of the very few non-demigod people on the planet who actually relies on archery as a method of combat and self-defense for gods' sake.

Slowly, Cassie withdraws her hand and shifts her basket again. Natasha is looking at her again and Cassie gets the feeling she's being reassessed. It's as though Natasha had measured her out for a piece of clothing, seen that it didn't fit, and was now wondering weather to simple tailor the existing clothes or pick out an entirely new outfit. Privately, Cassie thinks correctly measuring her up correctly would take shopping at an entirely different store. Possibly one in a far away zip code.

"Steve mentioned something about going running down on the National Mall," Cassie offers, hoping there's a way that she can push this conversation to some sort of conclusion without it being painfully awkward. "You can probably find him there. I don't know if you have his number, but if you do you might want to call him first or something. He looked kind of hyped up this morning when he left and I don't know how long he can run for."

Natasha thanks her for the pointer, the devilish smile she had worn when she'd first seen Cassie in Steve's doorway is back on her face. Cassie locks Steve's door behind her and puts his key back in to her pocket. From what she's been able to tell Steve's missions are unpredictable in length and sometimes last for whole months on end.

She goes back to her apartment and gets herself ready for class. She'll fold the laundry later. Besides, wondering weather or not her entire life history is about to be dissected by Natasha Romanov and whomever she might be friends with over at SHIELD is somewhat distracting.

It's that preoccupation that has Cassie calling Chiron and Reyna that evening to ask just how deeply buried her personal records as a demigod are actually buried. As it turns out, the answer to that question is really freaking far. Like, at the bottom of a river in Tartarus far.

Feeling more pressured, Cassie ends up chatting with Reyna. The other girl is still living out in California and trying to pick a new candidate to groom to be praetor in her place. It's not going so well and Cassie lets her vent for a while because that'll be healthier for everyone involved than Reyna picking some unfortunate soul to spar with. In addition to her duties with the legion, the girl is also two years through her law degree. Eventually they end up chatting and commiserating over trying to balance school with everything else in their lives. Essentially, they can conclude together that A) It's almost impossible and B) Sleep is for the week.

Talking with someone that she doesn't have to lie to about anything in her life is amazingly nice. She feels relaxed in a way that she hasn't in a while. The two of them flip between languages as they talk and it's the first time in a long time that Cassie's actually been able to have a conversation in Greek or Latin. The muscles are rusty but she gets in to the swing of things and ends up sitting in the hallway for no particular reason with her phone cradled to her ear and resting against her shoulder.

She's working up the nerve to bring up the situation with Steve and maybe ask for some advice when the man himself opens the door and begins to make his way up the stairs. Really it's just as well. Reyna has been historically worse with boys and dating than Cassie has by virtue of the fact that Cassie has actually dated a few people. If she really gets stuck Cassie might just call Piper or Rachel and pray that neither girl is too busy to give some advice.

"Reyna," she says. "Prepei na fygo. We should talk again soon. Antio i adelfi mou." She hangs up and looks up at Steve where he's stopped, leaning on the banister watching her. "Hey," she says.

"Hey," he replies, standing up and moving towards her. He's carrying a bag now that he wasn't before and Cassie wonders if it's just one that he keeps in a locker at SHIELD somewhere. "What language was that?" he asks. "I didn't recognize it."

Cassie tucks her phone away and starts shifting to stand up. "Greek. I don't remember it but my mom used to tell me that my father spoke it. Besides, I have some other friends who I can use it with."

Steve extends a hand in offering and she nods. He grips her hand and Cassie wraps her other hand around his wrist. He hauls her up to vertical with absolutely no trouble and her feet feel a bit like they might leave the ground at the pull. Steve gages his strength pretty carefully but there's just no compensating for the fact that she doesn't weigh much and he's a super soldier. If Steve wanted to he could probably use her body weight to do bicep curls.

"Are you fluent?" he asks.

His eyes are bright with a genuine interest and Cassie nods in response. "Mostly. I don't get a lot of opportunities to use it so I'm rusty. I forget stuff but if I were to be dropped in Athens today it'd come back pretty fast." She shrugs. "It helped a lot in school. I took some Latin too."

Steve tips his head. "I used to go to mass with my Ma when I was a kid. Not a word of it was in English, just straight Latin for almost three hours. You don't here it a lot anymore."

She shrugs. "Well, it is a dead language. Outside of religion, law, and medical practices it seems to be resting comfortably in whatever grave the linguists of the world decided it's lying in. Momento mori and everything."

"'Remember you must die,'" Steve translates. "Yeah that came up a lot in those three hours. Especially with me."

It's Cassie's turn to be confused and she frowns up at him. "I've never been but I thought church was more for a general assembly than it was specified to one person." Factually, Cassie hasn't actually been to any kind of religious gathering outside of the food she burns in tribute to the gods. It's hard to believe in higher powers when your entire family tree is gods. "I thought Confessional was the one-on-one part."

He nods. "Well traditionally yes, but I was sick a lot so I ended up with a little more face to face time with the priest in my neighborhood than other people. I think I must have had last rights, god three times."

"Well then I guess you're soul must be really, really prepared," Cassie blurts out. Then she screws her eyes shut and tips her head back towards the ceiling. "Sorry," she apologizes to the lighting panels. "That wasn't the right thing to say. I don't always do the thinking thing before the talking part. I've been working on it for the last twenty years or so. Really since I learned how to talk."

Steve is silent so Cassie cracks an eye open to gaze his reaction. To her shock he's giving her a small smile. "My friend Bucky made almost the same joke after time number three," he informs her. His tone is almost wistful, like he's looking back on a fond memory. In a way Cassie understands that. If almost dying made a memory completely unusable for past joy, most of her memories would be nothing but grim snap shots.

"He sounds like he was a good friend with a good sense of humor," Cassie says, taking care to make her words as gentle as she can.

He seems to appreciate her efforts because he smiles down at her again and rubs the back of his neck. It seems to be one of his nervous ticks and Cassie is oddly pleased to know him well enough to recognize it. "I was wondering," he says. "Since I'm around and you don't seem to be working, would now be a good time for that cup of coffee? I realize it's late."

"That's okay," Cassie finds herself saying. "Neither of us has a lot of free time. We should make the best of it right?" She rubs her palms against the fabric of her black yoga pants. "Would you like to come over to my apartment?"

"You could come to mine," he offers.

Cassie doesn't know how manners worked in the forties but she has to assume that Steve's feeling somewhat trapped by the upbringing he had and attempting to adhere to the social norms of the present. "I could," she agrees. "But the point of me owing you coffee is kind of that, you know, I owe you. Not the other way around."

Steve makes a movement with his shoulders that might or might not be a shrug. "Honestly, as long as we get a conversation out of it, I'd consider us square."

She lets herself take a moment to process that. It's kind of a major statement, more so than it would be from other people. When Steve Rogers says he means something, Cassie has absolutely no doubt that he means it. "Come in," she says softly. "I'll make us a cup of coffee and... we'll talk."

Her words clearly have an effect and it's Steve's turn to pause for a moment. He bites his lip and doesn't seem completely sure where to look before he settles on meeting her eyes. He indicates the bag slung over his shoulder. "I should drop this off first."

Cassie nods, hands him his key so that he can get in to his own apartment again, and retreats a step to her own door. "I'll leave the door open," she tells him. "Just knock and come in."

"Right." He steps to his own door and when he's a few inches away he pauses. His entire body seems to go on alert and his voice is careful as he asks "Did you leave the radio on earlier?"

That question immediately has a few million alarm bells ringing in her head. Her hand goes to where her bow hangs in charm form on her necklace. "No," she says carefully. "Why? is it on now?"

Steve must here the caution in her tone and mistake it for worry because he gives her a look that is probably patented to reassure innocent civilians. Which, Cassie reminds herself, is exactly what he thinks she is. "It's probably nothing," he says in a tone that would be soothing if Cassie hadn't spent nearly two decades in potential attack-and-defend situations. It makes her perfectly capable of judging when a situation is off and this one stinks like rotten fish and spoiled eggs. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

With that he unlocks his door and goes inside looking every inch like a man bracing himself to fight.

Cassie goes back in to her apartment on autopilot, thinking through her options as quickly as she can. The next time she spares a thought for her surroundings she's facing the kitchen counter and looking at her reflection where it's distorted in the shinning surface of a knife blade. Cassie picks it up and spins the blade in her hand. It's pretty well balanced for a knife that's not actually meant for combat.

Wait, Cassie tells herself. Just wait. It might be nothing. Maybe something happened with the radio wiring and it came on by itself. That happens sometimes. Just-

That's when a jarring crash shatters the quiet of the night and Cassie wears in every language she can think of. She takes the knife she has in her hand and sprints out of her apartment and across the hall to Steve's. The door is already blown apart and she charges through the opening, casing the scene as she arrives. The knife is balanced in her grip and Cassie is ready to either throw it or fight hand to hand depending on what the situation requires.

her eyes take perhaps half a second to adjust to the complete lack of light in the apartment. It's a shorter gap than most people would have to contend with but it is still a gap. When her vision focuses the sight that greats her isn't pretty. For one thing, there's a man she doesn't recognize apparently bleeding out all over Steve's kitchen floor.

Cassie drops her knife with a clatter and hurries over. "Holy shit!" she mutters. Steve turns sharply at the noise, ready to fight but Cassie just drops to her knees beside the figure on the floor and starts trying to locate the source of the breathing. "What happened?" she demands to know.

"Three gun shots," Steve replies automatically. It's possible that her tone was enough like a battlefield order that he's responding out of habit. She doesn't care. Whatever he can tell her she'll take, no matter the cause. "Direct hits, both to the chest. Pretty sure they were through and throughs."

Immediately Cassie starts grabbing dish towels to try to stop the bleeding. She can't tell right now if the bullet's gone all the way through or not and at the moment she doesn't have time to check because Not-A-Nurse Kate has just cleared the door holding a serious looking gun. "Captain Rogers?" she calls. "I'm Agent 13. SHIELD Special Service."

Cassie tunes out after that, trying her hardest to stop the damn bleeding and devoting herself to trying to keep this man alive. She doesn't know him, but at this point she has no choice but to assume he's one of the good guys. Steve leaves at a full run to try to take down the shooter and Cassie wonders if he'll be able to catch up. A smart sniper would have chosen a building not too far away so that they could verify the kill and Steve is super human so he might have a chance.

Agent 13 calls for paramedics and Cassie keeps the man on the ground alive until they get there. She tracks vitals impeccably and knows the full nature of the injuries simply through touch, part of her abilities. The man is definitely in bad shape but with luck, the right timing, and a few skilled cardiovascular trauma surgeons she thinks he has a reasonable chance. When she hears the paramedics begin their rush through the door she takes a risk and injects a quick shot of healing magic in to the man's system. It won't be enough to heal him fully but it might slow the bleeding some and replace some of the blood he's already lost. Whoever this man is, Cassie wants him to live so she can ask him in person what the actual fuck is going on.

No one questions her when Cassie climbs in to the ambulance with the man who's name she learns is Nick Fury, SHIELD director. She tells the surgeons at the hospital everything she knows, explains hurriedly that she's nearly done with med school and has experience with trauma surgery. Cassie ends up scrubbing in with them.

That's how she knows the doctors are wrong when they call time of death.

If she had to guess, she'd say Fury has injected himself with some form of Tetrodotoxin to slow his heart rate and mimic death. The drug can't fool Cassie though. Her father is the god of medicine and Cassie has enough ability from him to know when someone she's treating dies and when they're unconscious.

Nick Fury is most definitely still alive. However, if he's faking it, someone else will be helping him. Probably the brunette woman who takes his bod away.

Cassie is a curious person, and she very rarely backs off when she should.

She wants to know why.

That curiosity is why she doesn't just vanish, and instead agrees to go with one of the agents who's been camped in a car outside her building back to SHIELD HQ for what they call a "civilian debrief". The building is impressive, but Cassie only assesses it tactically as the car she's in the back seat of grows closer. She counts floors, windows, exits, and the number of cars in the garage. By the time she's taken inside she has a spatial map of the entire facility in her head and has the door codes for every door she's gone through completely memorized.

Cassie is also the granddaughter of Mercury. And Mercury is the god of criminals, luck, and thieves.

It turns out to be a good thing that she's prepared because it means she has a plan for when the alarms start going off throughout the building. She hears through one agents comm link that they are trying to apprehend Steve with strike teams and that's enough for Cassie to cut this visit short. If SHIELD is going after Captain America with the intent to harm or kill something is very, very, wrong (more than she realized before) and this place is no longer the best one to be in to figure it out.

No one bothered to put handcuffs on her because she wasn't under arrest and only two agents are supposed to be watching her because someone higher up the food chain has decided that she's not a threat. That's a mistake. But hey, it's one that benefits her so who's she to complain?

Cassie times her escape until they're in a camera blindspot and then takes down both agents with well placed thumb jabs. They're big and fast but she takes them by surprise and they drop like bags of bricks. After that, she very calmly punches in the security code for the elevator and rides it up to the roof. Once she's there, she absorbs the power of the sun and lets her body melt away, transporting herself back to her apartment to pick up her supplies.

From the looks of things SHIELD hasn't been there yet and she takes that as a good sign. She implements her bug-out plan and has the apartment stripped of everything that belongs to her in forty minutes. A quick bus ride later and everything she owns besides a bag containing her armor, weapons, and medical equipment is stashed securely in a warehouse registered to Camp Jupiter.

Then Cassie does what any demigod would do. Which is to say, it's stupid, reckless, and very possible might end with her dying. Probably in an extremely painful and unfortunate way.

She transport without any idea where she's actually aiming to go.

Normally Cassie has to be thinking about where she wants to end up. Even just being able to look at a photo to visualize the location is sometimes enough. The more familiar she is with where she wants to go the better.

This time though, Cassie uses a different method. Instead of thinking about a place as the power of the sun's rays wash through her body, turning her into brilliant and insubstantial molecules of light, Cassie focuses on a person. Specifically she thinks about Steve, with his ernest, shy smiles, and huge blue eyes. Steve who is always nice and so often sad. She visualizes with absolute clarity the lines of his shoulders and the shape of his face and recalls exactly how his voice had sounded when he had asked her out for coffee.

The good news is that the trick works without killing her though it definitely takes more energy than she might like. The world reforms as it should and a quick inspection reveals that she has all of her body parts and she didn't even lose her backpack in the transition. All of this is very good and Cassie takes a half a moment to feel proud of herself for the neatness of the jump.

The bad news is that she appears pretty much directly in Steve's lap in the middle of a strange man's living room absolutely scaring the shit out of everyone there including Natasha Romanov, a coffee skinned man with a closely shaved head whom she doesn't recognize, and Steve Rogers himself.

Needless to say the reactions to her appearance vary.

Natasha pulls a gun and has it pointed at her with the safety off in seconds. The man she doesn't recognize throws a spatula at her head and Cassie is forced to catch it out of the air or risk potential injury. Steve himself jerks out of his chair and nearly falls over backwards, knocking over the chair he'd been sitting in. This is unfortunate because the motion also dumps her on to the floor.

Cassie tucks and rolls and comes up standing against the far wall with her palms open and raised. Out of nowhere a wave of de ja vu hits her as the scene plays so very like the one that occurred when Cassie had first met the Avengers after the Battle of New York. "Wow!" she says. "I'm here to help!"

No one relaxes in the slightest and Natasha says. "How the hell did you do that?"

Her gun is still pointed at Cassie's head so Cassie decides to answer the question. "Teleportation," she says as calmly as she can. "But from where I'm standing that's not so important right now."

The man who had thrown a spatula at her actually raises his hand. "As the man whose home you just invaded I think I'm gonna have to disagree."

Cassie frowns at him. "Who are you exactly?" Natasha cocks the gun and seems ready to fire it so Cassie hurries on. "Look," she says, mostly directing her words at Steve. "I know I owe you an explanation but right now you two are wanted fugitives from your own organization and your friends been shot by the people you all work for. I knocked out two agents and snuck out of a secure government facility to come help you and from the looks of it you could use all the help you can get."

They're all still regarding her warily and Cassie rolls her eyes in frustration. "Oh come on!" she mutters. "Look, fine. I get it I appeared out of nowhere and that's weird. But is it honestly the weirdest thing any of you has ever seen?" She looks at Natasha. "You're some kind of KGB super spy and I don't know what you are but," she gestures at the man she doesn't know. "If you're involved in this you can't be just normal. And you," she continues, now looking at Steve. "I'm sorry but you're a genetically modified nearly indestructible super soldier. You periodically team up with a god and a gigantic green rage monster. There is no way that my appearing out of thin air is the strangest thing you've ever seen."

She takes a steadying breath and looks from Steve to Natasha. "You know Thor," she says. "You've met him and worked with him?" They both nod cautiously so Cassie continues. "We don't have the time for me to explain the particulars," she says. "But because of my family-" she cuts herself off. That conversation has the potential to be a long one and this isn't the time, place, or way to have it.

Instead she takes in another breath and counts her exhale as she looks at Steve. "Remember I told you my father was Greek and ditched my mother before I was born?" he nods again and she can't help but almost sag in relief. "Well my dad and Thor are kind of similar beings," she says cautiously. "Not the same. There are major differences believe me. But the point is I have abilities and I can help you." She shrugs without lowering her hands from where they still are level with her head, palms open. "I'm sorry but right now I can't explain any better than I already have."

She focuses all of her attention on Steve then, every bit she has and hopes desperately that he will believe her, and let her words be enough. Not forever, but for now. "I can help you," she says earnestly. She puts every fiber of her being in to meaning those words. "I want to help you. Will you let me?"

There's a long moment of silence as Steve seems to asses every inch of her. Finally, after an interminable pause he nods once in a jerky movement and tells Natasha to put away the gun. "Later," he says to Cassie. "Later you and me. We talk." It's not a suggestion, it's almost an order and Cassie raises her chin to make sure they're eye to eye and nods.

Steve nods back and goes back to planning. At that the man she doesn't know shrugs and introduces himself to her as Sam Wilson. Cassie shakes the hand he offers and compliments him on his spatula throwing skills. It brings an easy grin to his face and Cassie can tell that in Sam she's found a potential friend and worthwhile ally.

If they all live through what comes next she supposes.

Survival.

Right.

Sam dishes her up a huge plate of pancakes and bacon which she gets through about half of before getting full. She pushes the rest over to Steve who she knows must need to eat more than the average human being. He flicks an almost cautious glance her way, but empties the plate anyway. Cassie doesn't let his suspicion bother her at the moment. He's earned the right to be suspicious given her rather dramatic entrance and as Cassie said earlier, they have bigger problems.

A glib comment about having managed to have their breakfast together sooner than expected crosses her mind, but Cassie shoves it down before it can escape her mouth. Now isn't time for sarcasm or awkwardness. It's time to plan, and plan they do.

Their brainstorming eventually comes around to Steve wondering out loud how two of the most recognizable people in Washington can kidnap someone in broad daylight. "You can't," Cassie says with a shake of the head just as Same echoes her thoughts and produces a file documenting his military training with metallic wings worthy of Daedalus, calling it a resume. Steve gives him one last chance to back out but Sam doesn't take it and after an hour they have their plan.

They have to make a stop to pick up his wings where they're under guard at Fort Meade. Cassie helps Natasha break in, pointing out a few small security devices she detects and disarms before the other woman can get caught. After, the woman treats her to a small smile and says to call her Nat and Sam whistles in appreciation of the speedy operation. Nothing like a heist to quickly solidify the bonds of a team.

Steve doesn't really meet her eyes and he doesn't talk while they drive along the highway and back in to D.C. She can feel his eyes on her. Watching as she interacts with the others and takes stalk of her supplies. She acts like she can't feel it but internally she sighs. Once all of this is over she'll have to explain everything. She'll owe him that.

The English language does not contain the words to describe how little she is looking forward to that conversation. Neither does Latin or Greek. Maybe if she remembers later she'll ask Leo and Piper if Spanish or French is any more helpful. While she's at it she might call Nico too. Mentally she adds calling Will and her other siblings to her to-do list. It's generally good demigod protocol to let your siblings know that you aren't dead after proof that you've been involved in something highly dangerous has just been broadcast on national television.

Cassie is just wondering weather CNN has managed to identify her yet and worrying if they'll dig up any of the other news stories she's been involved in over the years (helping blow up the Saint Luis Arch was a particular moment) when their car comes under attack. Their attacker is a heavily armed man wearing a mask. His left arm is solid, shining, sinister looking metal from shoulder to finger tips.

The doctor in her admires the refinement of the prosthetic and wonders what kind of motor control he has, how it's attached, and what kind of sensation the man it's attached to has. The tactician in her wonders if it takes longer for the fingers to react than those in his other hand and questions exactly how strong the metal might be and what material it's made out of.

The demigod instincts in her just tell her that whatever that arm is, it's wrong. She knows deep in her gut that that arm represents something completely separate from the man that it's attached to. Instinctually, she knows that if she sees the way that the metal is attached, the sight will be unhealed, and covered with ugly scar tissue.

All of these thoughts pass through her head in a moment and are immediately replaced with one singular thought...

It would really suck to survive countless attacks by mythological monsters, crazed gods from four separate pantheons, a titan war, a giant war, multiple undead roman emperors, several quests to decide the fate of the world, and a bizarre night out with the LA chapter of the Party Ponies just to be killed by a couple of pissed of Nazi's with a murderous cyborg.

Just sayin'.

A/N: So what did you guys think? I had originally planned to try to adept all of CAWS in one chapter but by the time I hit the highway battle I was already over 9k words and that just seemed like it would be too long so now I plan to finish adapting the movie for this story in a second chapter. Do you guys like how I've adjusted it so far? I worried a little while writing it about when exactly to drop Cassie in with the team but breakfast with Sam (the probably most well adjusted MCU individual) was as good a time as any. I've started to plan how Cassie's in depth explanation to Steve will go but it seemed like she would have to say something to explain herself at this point. Anyway, tell me your thoughts so far! I'm open to all comments and suggestions if you've got them. Thank you all so much to everyone who's reviewed and favorited so far. You guys are the best! Review for me! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox