Disclaimer: The nothing I'm paid for this is so nothing it doesn't exist.
So there are some serious downsides to being the one to drag a bloody and unconscious Captain America to an ambulance. For one thing, from a technical perspective it's like actually hard. Steve is two hundred and thirty pound of muscle spread out on a six-two frame. Cassie is about a hundred pounds soaked and five-two on a good day. Even with her augmented strength there are logistics at play here that just don't work very well.
The other downside is that Captain America just very publicly outed a terrorist group and burned an entire government agency. That combined with the exploding carriers and screaming ambulances has attracted some attention. Seriously some attention.
Okay honestly it's the entire D.C press core plus some people who may have flown in from out of town. They're taking pictures and recording videos of literally anything they think might work for their network viewing statistics. Needless to say, Captain America beat to hell, muddy, and being dragged in for medical attention makes the list.
It's a horrendous crowd and also impossible to avoid.
Once Cassie crests the hill away from the riverbank she shouts for the paramedics to get their attention. Steve is heavy and she can't carry him any more. Well, physically it's possible that she could, but she shouldn't in front of the few million viewers on television. Outing herself as abnormal in front of Fury, Natasha, Sam, and Steve was bed enough. The rest of the world is staying in the dark for as long as she can possibly manage.
As it turns out, shouting "Captain America is bleeding over here!" will get the paramedics running. Seriously, it's like shouting about there being an explosive at the airport. Some people are trained to respond to key phrases, and Cassie knows which ones work on the medical community. "Bleeding" is one of them. When in the presence of Captain America, invoking him works to.
Two medics are with her in seconds. They take his vitals and Cassie rattles off all of the information she has. Then they load him in to the back of an ambulance and Cassie stares after the car as it leaves.
Then she gives herself a shake and goes back to the aid station.
She cares a lot about Steve, and if she were just a normal girl she'd have gotten in to the back of the ambulance with him and ridden to the hospital. However, Cassie has never been just a normal girl. She has always been a warrior, and then a healer first. Right now there are people who need her help, and Cassie can give it to them.
By the time Cassie is all but kicked out of the aid station by the trauma surgeons who have arrived on scene to supervise, the sun is completely hidden by the turn of the Earth. Normally Cassie would have argued and stayed longer to help no matter what anyone else said. However, after almost six hours of constant medical work on top of the events of the last forty-eight hours, she feels just about dead on her feet. A victim who goes by having suffered major blood loss has better coloring than she does.
That observation and the fuzziness that's been creeping in steadily at the edges of her vision are enough to get her moving. Catching a cab ends up being impossible because of all of the emergency vehicles screaming back and forth so instead of getting in to a car she ends up walking. She can't be completely certain which hospital Steve would have been taken to, but G.W seems like the most likely option because it's close and fairly easily secured. Besides, even if Steve isn't there Cassie is beginning to know her way around the place, so at the very least she knows where to find a couch she can crash on.
Just this once, the universe does her a solid and she has the right hospital. Cassie considers it a small solid as solids go, considering the fact that she walked for about an hour to have that solid pay off. Still, it could have been worse (she could have had the wrong hospital and had to walk more) so Cassie is willing to dish out a little credit. If a god steps up to claim credit she'll thank them too. Actually, she should probably send up a prayer to the gods anyway.
One more thank you for the fact that I am yet to die horribly prayer for the record books.
She's almost definitely made too many of those.
When she arrives at the hospital she knows immediately that it's the right one because of all of the super un-covert security people stationed outside and around the entrances. They are all very clearly armed standing with the relaxed awareness Cassie associates with the highly trained. She's tired of pretending she doesn't see them so she just nods at one tiredly as she passes and makes her way to the reception desk.
Getting in is easier than she had thought it would be. She tells the woman working reception who she is, and who she's there to visit. After presenting both her license and student I.D and proving that she can rattle off her social security number she's allowed through with directions to the private room Steve is in. She can only assume that some helpful person, probably some combination of Sam and Hill, got her put on the permitted visitors list. Otherwise, she doubts she would have been able to get through the door without some kind of official government paperwork.
Even if she hadn't gotten directions, Cassie thinks she would have been able to find Steve's room eventually. All she has to do is follow the security guards. The ratio between them and patients shifts steadily as she moves towards the more private sector of the hospital until most of the actual rooms are unoccupied.
She finds Steve in a private room attached to a surprisingly large number of machines considering his vitals had been fairly stable when she had last seen him. Cassie supposes the hospital is just being careful. There might be worse press than having Captain America die on your watch, but Cassie's not completely certain what it would be. Burning a real live Uncle Sam at the stake?
Politeness still being a thing, Cassie knocks before she goes in. Steve looks like he's still unconscious but Sam is sitting in the chair next to his bed and he's awake. The sound of Marvin Gaye is playing from an iPod dock on the side table.
"Nice music choice," she comments, still standing against the door.
Sam gives her an easy grin at her words and pulls himself up to a standing position. "Thanks. You know I figured you might be by."
Cassie nods, moving further in to the room. "I guess I should say thank you. I assume it was you who put my name on the list up front?"
He shrugs, shaking his head. "Nah not really. I'm just a soldier I don't have that kind of pull. I just mentioned to Hill and Fury that given all you did this week to keep this one alive," he gestures to Steve. "You might want to be able to check in and see that he's still breathing."
"Thank you," Cassie says more fervently than she had a moment earlier.
Sam shrugs off her words for the most part, but she figures saying them is still important. He stretches his neck and shoulders before saying "He came out of it for a minute earlier but it didn't last long. I think he'll be okay though. In my experience once a guy can shit talk you he's officially past the problem stage."
That comment actually managed to make Cassie crack a tired smile. "What did he say to you?" she asks. "Would I get the joke?"
"i think I'll let him tell you," Sam says with a look that she can't quite define. "From what I've heard, the two of you are overdue for a talk." Cassie doesn't meet his eyes and Sam doesn't push but he does pat the chair he had been sitting in. "The chair isn't that comfortable but from the looks of things you'll take it any way. I have to go see a man about a shield."
With that he leaves the room and Cassie eyes the hard plastic chair doubtfully. On the one hand, this is hospital visitor's furniture and therefore designed to be just on the border of too uncomfortable to stand. It's her private opinion that the furniture is made that way on purpose to get people to leave quickly so that the staff won't have to work around any one. On the other hand, she's lost track of how long she's been standing for and at this point her options are the chair, the floor, or the bed with Steve.
The part of her that is a trained member of the medical profession knows that she absolutely definitely should sit in the hard plastic chair and wait for Steve to wake up there. The part of her that is a girl who basically hasn't slept for two days thinks that the tiny portion of the bed that Steve isn't occupying looks really tempting right now. Has she mentioned she's really freaking tired?
While she's still deliberating Steve shifts slightly with a wince and his eyes flutter open. His blue eyes seem a little blurry but he manages to focus on Cassie eventually. "Hey," he says. "You okay?"
"Hey," Cassie breaths out on a sigh of relief. "Yeah I'm good. I'm fine. Better than you actually." She steps closer until the fronts of her legs are pressed against the edge of his bed. "How are you feeling? I couldn't do much on site apart from setting the broken bones and stopping the internal bleeding."
Steve frowns at her sleepily. Whatever drugs they have him on must be strong and a heavy dosage, otherwise his metabolism would be burning through them more quickly. "You don't look okay," he says. "You look tired." His eyes fix on her ragged, muddy clothes and still bloody hands. "You hurt?"
His inflection makes it seem more like a question but he's slurring a little and looks like he's in danger of falling asleep again. Cassie treats it like a question and shakes her head. "No. No not hurt. Just tired. The blood isn't mine. Well," she glances down at herself and processes that it might be possible that some of the blood is hers. "Mostly. I'm almost definitely sure that most of the blood doesn't belong to me." Something occurs to her suddenly as she looks at her dirty hands and fingers. "Shit I'm way not sanitary enough for a hospital."
Steve gives a sleepy smile and shakes his head. "You're fine," he tells her. "Can't get sick anyway. Don't really get infections either."
"Well that must be convenient for you," Cassie says. "Meanwhile I'm a med student. I'm supposed to be good about this stuff." She looks around to try to see if Steve's room has a sink. "I should wash up." She spots the sink and moves over to it. Cassie scrubs away the dirt and blood on her skin and makes sure to get the build up out from under her nails.
Once she feels a little less grimy she goes back over to Steve's bed and is about to sit on the uncomfortable chair when Steve catches her wrist and pulls her to sit at the edge of his mattress. "All clean?" he asks. His eyes are light in a way Cassie hasn't seen often and she realizes suddenly that he's teasing.
And high.
Yeah Steve Rogers is almost definitely high right now.
Cassie sighs and follows the pull on her wrist to sit down. "I wouldn't go that far," she says. She isn't sure what to do when faced with Steve Rogers in a teasing mood so she decides that she's just going to roll with it. Maybe she'll be able to wait out the drugs. "On a metaphorical scale I probably still need some kind of specialized chemical bath. In the literal sense, I am probably now allowable inside the building."
He blinks and peers up at her. "That sounds like a lot of words right now," he says.
"That's because you're high," Cassie informs him. She twists her head and neck at an awkward angle to see the I.V bag leading in to the vein in Steve's hand. "On morphine I think," she says. "Personally I'm hoping it might be out of your system soon. There's a good chance you aren't going to remember any conversation we have right now and I really don't want to have to say all of this twice."
At that Steve frowns and looks down at the I.V line. "Take it out," he says. "I don't want this in anymore."
"I'm not your doctor," Cassie says automatically. "I can't."
To her horror, Steve starts moving around to get his other hand free. When it is he starts reaching for the I.V like he wants to pull it out himself. She moves to stop him without thinking about it, trapping his hand with hers. Steve pulls against her but the drugs still in his system are dulling his strength and that gives Cassie the right level of edge to keep him still. Steve glares up at her with a look of stubborn irritation. "Either you take it out or I will."
For a moment Cassie considers fighting him on it. With how drugged he still is she might have a shot. Gods she's tired though.
With a long sigh, she reaches over and carefully removes the line, following every medical procedure she's ever been taught to do so. "I'm probably gonna get in trouble for that," she says, more to herself than anyone else. At the moment it's hard to care very much. "If anybody asks you either don't remember the needle coming out or you pulled it yourself. Okay?"
Steve nods in agreement and pulls a little more against her arm, tugging her closer until she's curled awkwardly on the empty portion of his bed. Cassie lets herself follow the pull and does her best to situate herself so that she's not pulling or crushing any of the other wires and tubes monitoring and regulating Steve. This is one of those rare occasions when she's glad that she's as small as she is.
"How long 'till I wake up?" Steve asks.
Cassie shrugs burrowing her head a little further in to the pillow. It feels softer than it probably is in reality and her eyelids feel extraordinarily heavy. Both of these sensations are sure fire signs of exhaustion and Cassie figures she's got about a minute and a half at the most before she blacks out completely. In her head she runs a quick calculation with Steve's weight and the morphine dosage he's been given. "Hard to say," she says. "Depends on your metabolism. Couple hours probably..."
She doesn't mention that most of the time patients who woke up from drugged sleep normally fell in to natural rest shortly afterwards. Not everyone followed the pattern and she had no idea how Steve metabolized drugs. Lacking this knowledge means its possible her math is very very wrong.
As her eyes drift shut she's aware of Steve's head moving on the pillow. "Are you going to be here when I wake up?"
Cassie thinks she might make some kind of noise in the affirmative but she isn't sure. Steve's voice sounds like it's coming to her through a long, echoing tunnel, or maybe underwater. Not being Percy, that makes it difficult to process.
Anyway, the normal systems that process sounds from her ears and translates them in to messages for her brain doesn't seem to be working, and moments later her world dissolves in to blackness.
When she wakes up again, Steve is still asleep but his breathing and heartbeat are both regular. Cassie places two fingers at his temple and runs a quick scan which tells her that all of the drugs are out of his system now. A glance at the clock tells her she's been out for around six hours. She smiles. Apparently her calculations weren't as wrong as they could have been.
Every one of her joints makes their displeasure known audibly as she sits up and stretches her arms up over her head to work out the kinks. She tosses her feet over the edge of the bed and stands as quietly as she can. Both of her knee caps click and one of her hips gives an uncomfortable pop. a twist to the side pops the rest of her spine and Cassie rolls her neck as she stands.
A scan of the room reveals a door leading to a private bathroom she hadn't noticed the night before. There's also a green canvas bag sitting on the chair beside the bed. The bag makes her frown. The bathroom she hadn't noticed, the bag hadn't been there.
Cassie uses a pencil to prod the bag from a distance and when it doesn't explode and nothing jumps out of it at her she judges it safe enough to open. Inside is a pair of jean shorts and a black henley shirt made of soft cotton. There's also fresh underwear and a small bag of toiletries, all of which are her normal brand. That in correlation with the fact that the entire bag smells like rose perfume makes Cassie pretty sure that this bag is a present from Aphrodite.
There's also a new pair of shoes with a Mercury sign where the Nike swish would normally be, and an Olympus Cellular music card. She sends out a thank you prayer to cover her bases and then immediately starts worrying about what exactly her aunt, father, and grandfather are going to want in exchange for these presents. The possibilities are numerous and none of them are pleasant.
If there's one lesson she's learned the hard way, it's that the gods don't do things for free.
Never the less, she takes the bag and ducks in to the bathroom to use the shower. It does wonders and washes her clean while the hot water relaxes her muscles which are stiff and soar. The scent of her normal shampoo and soap along with the taste of her normal toothpaste after she's brushed her teeth instill a sense of calm normalcy in her that she hasn't felt in a while.
The clothes from the bag fit her perfectly and Cassie expects no less from the goddess of fashion. She decides to just be thankful that Aphrodite hadn't full on glamour blasted her like she did Piper every once in a while. Magic make up was a serious pain in the ass to remove and don't even get her started on the hair styles...
Anyway, by the time Cassie leaves the bathroom she's warm and clean and in a lot less pain than she could be all things considered. She would love a good meal but at this point she'll settle for a granola bar, some hospital Jell-O and maybe a cup of instant coffee. Hey, Cassie's a twice over demigod who was orphaned young. Her standards for decent food died about fifteen years ago.
She's in the process of braiding her damp blonde hair when Steve distracts her by waking up and voicing her name. His voice jolts her out of her own thoughts and she turns to look at him. If she'd had any doubts about weather the morphine is still in his system the look in his eyes would banish them. His pupils are no longer over dilated and the blue of his irises is a cloudless blue. His gaze follows her around the room as she moves and he seems to have absolutely no problem tracking her.
"You're still here," he says.
Cassie finishes her braid and secures it with a hair tie she keeps around her wrist sometimes for emergencies. "I'm pretty sure I said I would be." She goes and sits on the edge of his bed. "You weren't the only person a little out of it. And-" she stops, biting her lip for a moment before she keeps going, trying to figure out the best way to phrase what she says next. "I owe you a conversation. Figured it would be better to balance the books sooner rather than later."
He gives a dry chuckle and Cassie is looking for the water pitcher before she can stop herself. "You sound like Natasha," Steve tells her as she stands and pours a cup of water. "She talks about debts, about having a ledger." He takes the cup she hands him and drains it. "It never made sense to me. After everything, I guess maybe I'm starting to see the appeal of having a scale- of knowing where you are in the balance."
An image flashes through Cassie's mind. It's an image of bronze measuring scales, of glowing hearts and golden feathers and a creature ready to eat those who are deemed unworthy. It's not an image that really belongs in Cassie's head. Neither of her gods are Egyptian but she knows the stories and knows that that version of the underworld is real even if it won't be the one she faces in the end.
She shakes her head to clear it and steals herself for what's coming. "So?" she asks leadingly. "Want to have that talk?"
To her surprise Steve shakes his head. "Not now. I want us to have time for this and I have some things I have to do this afternoon. Assuming the doctors here will discharge me." The look of distaste she has on her face when he says that makes Cassie think that what the doctors do won't matter much to him. Everything she knows about Steve Rogers tells her that he is in no way a stranger to acting against medical advice.
She nods and begins to make for the door. She won't ask what else Steve might have to do today. As Steve has questions for her, other people (namely the general public) will have questions for him. The way he plays his answers and tells his story over the next few days will be crucial. Besides, a whole lot of people died yesterday. Cassie guesses that Steve will want to go to some of the funerals.
"I'll be at the diner tonight," she tells him. "Come by when you've done what you need to do. We'll have dinner, and I'll explain."
That's all they go on in terms of plans. They don't set a time or make any more specific arrangements. Cassie thinks that that's probably a good thing. Planning hasn't ever been her strong suite and she can tell already that her day is going to be hectic. After all, she has to find somewhere new to live. Her old apartment is doubtlessly crawling with SHIELD agents by now, and living in a bugged apartment lacks appeal.
So Cassie spends the day apartment hunting and by the and of it sh thinks she might have a lead, but she's still going to be stuck with facing at least a week in a hotel. She makes it to the diner she works at and waves at the people who are on shift. They was back at her and a cup of hot coffee lands in front of her mere moments after she sits down.
Steve arrives about twenty minutes after she sits down and its good timing on his part because that gives her time to drink her first cup of coffee and start contemplating food options. It doesn't hurt any that the late hour means that the diner is experiencing the beginning of the small rush of people who work later shifts. That means that the staff is busy enough not to get curious, and the patrons themselves are decidedly uninterested in what anyone else is doing. If Cassie has to dish out her life story, this is as good a time and place as any to do it.
They sit in relative silence for a few minutes after Steve arrives. He orders coffee and food and Cassie orders a burger with fries. They get their food and tuck in and she decides that eating takes precedence over talking. Steve seems to agree because he devours his entire plate and then orders a second before showing any signs of slowing down.
When they've both eaten some, Steve wipes his hands with a napkin and sits back. "So," he says. Cassie chews slowly and swallows before dropping the remains of her burger. She waits in silence for Steve's questions, unsure of what exactly is about to happen but fairly certain she won't enjoy it. However the silence stretches on and eventually Steve just shakes his head. "I don't know how to ask what I want to ask," he admits.
Cassie bights her lower lip in contemplation, trying to decide where to start from. Soon enough her mind lands on a simple enough test to see where exactly she's working from. She rolls up her sleeve so that the legion tattoo on her forearm is visible and holds it out for his inspection. "Can you see this?" she asks.
Steve examines the markings and frowns. "So you have a tattoo?" he asks. "Yeah I can see it. Don't know what it might be though."
That could mean a few things so Cassie decides to pursue the topic to clarify. "So you can see the tattoo but you can't read it?" she checks. Steve nods and Cassie withdraws her arm, assessing what she now knows. That Steve can see the markings at all means that he can see through the mist more than the average person. The fact that what he sees is indistinct means that he's still not seeing completely clearly. It's a partial blurring rather than a full on blinding of true sight, and somehow Cassie will have to clear his vision further before she can explain.
She sits forward and studies Steve's face carefully. "Do you trust me?" she asks. "If you don't this will never work the way that we both need it to."
Steve doesn't respond verbally, but he nods without breaking eye contact with her and doesn't flinch away when Cassie leans closer. She holds up both of her hands, palms open. "There's something I'm going to have to do," she tells him. "Most people, they've got this kind of- kind of a block in their minds. For me to explain, it can't be in yours."
His brow furrows a little at her words but he doesn't back away from contact with her when Cassie places her fingers against his temples. "Is this going to hurt?" he asks. He asks the question almost like it's a joke but Cassie doesn't treat it like one.
"Scientia semper nocere possunt," she says quietly. "Knowledge can always hurt." Then she focuses her magic, allowing a fragment of her healing power to glow through her palms. It thrums under her fingertips where they splay along his temple and jaw. Golden light flows gently in to Steve's veins below the skin and focuses in his eyes. In seconds the blue is completely obscured by gold. In that undefinable region of her mind where Cassie's healing powers reside, she feels something click in to place and the gold recedes, flowing back in to her palms.
Cassie is surprised to find that she isn't tired. She'd never tried to open a person's eyes and mind like that before, only heard that it was possible. She knows that Annabeth's cousin Magnus has performed a similar feet, and she shares a certain profile of abilities with the boy. What she just attempted was purely based on a guess.
Steve blinks as the last sparks of Cassie's magic fades from his eyes and he looks down at her. "What-" he starts to stay but Cassie cuts him off. She holds out her arm for inspection once more and asks "Can you read it now?"
At first Steve looks at her like he thinks she might be insane. Which, all things considered isn't all that surprising. Then he follows her prompting and re-examines her arm. Cassie gets the feeling he's doing it to humor her, but the important thing is that he looks.
What's more important than that is that this time he seems to actually see.
Tentatively, he reaches out and warm callused fingers trace the symbols branded in to her flesh. "SPQR," he says quietly as his fingers trace the letters. "Does that mean something?"
Cassie nods. "Senatus Populusque Romanus," she tells him. "It's the Latin motto of the Roman Empire. It means 'for the senate and the people of Rome'. Legionaries used to get them to declare their rank and loyalty." Steve's fingers slide slightly to the side and sketch lightly over the lines that form the lyre of Apollo and caduceus of Mercury. He raises an eyebrow at her in question and Cassie explains what they are. "They're symbols," she says. "Of-" her throat goes suddenly dry and she forces herself to swallow before she continues. "Of the gods."
Steve straightens at this, opening up space between them, but his hands don't leave her arm where they're braced around her elbow and wrist. "Gods." The word is spoken in a way that could either be a question or a statement and Cassie isn't quite sure which. Steve's also doing his best to make his expression blank but he isn't actually very good at it no matter how much time he spends with Natasha.
"Yeah," she says, mouth still feeling dry.
Steve is still regarding her carefully. Cassie still doesn't know exactly how to launch her explanation so she waits for him to ask her a question that she can answer. Finally he says. "Who exactly are you?"
His choice of questioning word makes Cassie flinch involuntarily and her reply comes out more sharply than she means it to. "I assume you mean what am I?" Her voice is cold in her own ears. "Because I'm exactly who I was the first time I ever met you." Steve's eyes have widened fractionally and Cassie thinks he might apologize, reverting to manners at the idea that he might have offended her but she doesn't give him the chance. "My name is Cassie Morgenstern," she says. "I'm twenty-three years old and a medical student. I was born in Florida and raised in New York. My grandmother died when my mother was young, my own mother died when I was a child and both my father and grandfather abandoned their children. It also just happens that neither of them were exactly Jo Normal."
Slowly, everything she's ever said about herself and her parentage seems to come together for Steve inside his head. "Before," he says slowly. "You said something about your father being like Thor. Are you saying-" he shakes his head like he almost can't believe what he's about to say. "Are you saying that your father is a god?"
"Father," Cassie says as lightly as she can manage. "Grandfather. And, if you want to get genetically technical about it, a whole mess of relatives on the paternal side of the family." She sits forwards and points to the symbols on her arm with her other hand. "This," she says pointing to the lyre. "Is the symbol of my father. And this," she points to the caduceus "is the mark of my grandfather."
The look on Steve's face isn't all that different from the expression of a person trying to swallow a grape whole. "So..." he struggles, searching for words. "Are you, related to Thor then?"
He looks so put off by the idea that Cassie can't help but smile a little as she shakes her head. "No," she assures. "No thats the wrong pantheon. He's no relation. Though I have a friend who's cousin-" she cuts herself off at the expression on Steve's face. Introducing him to the world of real live Greco-Roman mythology is enough for one day. Norse and Egyptian gods would have to wait.
If the subject ever comes up that is.
At this point Cassie doesn't think it's very likely. Especially if she has anything to say about it.
"No," she says, getting back on topic. "Thor and I are in no way related."
Steve's mind appears to have been moving very quickly as Cassie ordered her thoughts. "You said to me a while ago that you were Greek and Italian. Are you- I mean are the- the gods you're related to..."
He can't seem to make himself finish his question. Maybe he doesn't know how. Maybe he isn't even sure what it is he wants to ask. Either way she decides to save him from having to try. "Yes," she confirms. "Though Greek and Roman are closer than saying Greek and Italian. Italy didn't really become an official place until after..." she lets herself trail off again because she doesn't know if saying that her grandfather originated with Rome will help or hurt in this situation.
"So are you more Roman?" Steve says. "Or more Greek? Or are they kind of the same?"
It's not the most politically sensitive question to someone who knows as much about both Greeks and Romans as Cassie does, but Steve hasn't run away screaming and seems to genuinely want to understand so Cassie will do her best to clarify. "They're not," she says. "The same that is. They look similar from today's viewpoint on mythology because when Rome invaded Greece they adopted the gods, but Roman culture was different, and the gods personalities changed to reflect that. They became less flighty, less creative, less artistic because Romans didn't really value those things. As a whole the gods became a bit more militant, more like an army. It created a schism in the gods themselves, creating separate though simultaneously existing beings."
Steve looks like his head is hurting at this onslaught of new information and concepts.
Cassie can't blame him. She's had a headache too the first time anyone had tried to explain it before. And she'd had the benefit of actually knowing that both versions of the gods existed given her unique genetic situation.
"To answer your question I'm more Greek than Roman," she says in an attempt to maybe dress the simplest issue at hand. She gestures back at the lyre tattooed on her forearm. "Apollo, see? The Greek god of art, poetry, archery, healing, the sun, and music. The lyre is his symbol."
A shiver runs up her arm and down her spine as Steve's fingers shift, tracing over the lyre and on to the caduceus. "I've seen this before," he says. "Don't hospitals use it?"
She nods in agreement. "Yes," she confirms. "It's the symbol of Mercury. Roman god of messengers, doctors, and thieves. Really anyone who uses the open road. Mercury isn't that picky about who he sponsors. Kind of a Jack-of-all-trades. My teacher thinks that's probably why I'm as powerful as I am. Every specific power attribute I got from Apollo sort of combined with the versatility of Mercury and just kind of...amplified." She shrugs. "But then again I'm kind of unique in my situation, so that's pretty much just a guess."
Steve tips his head. "Does that mean that there are other people like you?"
This, this is the portion of the conversation Cassie had been hoping to avoid. Spilling the beans on her own existence is bad but revealing that there is seriously an entire world and multiple armies occupied by people like her is borderline apocalyptic. And Cassie's a girl who knows what apocalyptic looks doesn't answer and won't meet Steve's eyes. She won't lie to Steve now, but this is one secret that isn't hers to tell. It belongs to all of the demigods of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter and she won't give it up if she has absolutely any other choice.
When she glances back up from under the curtain of blonde her hair has become Steve is looking at her with an expression of resolved understanding. He nods once and says "I see," and Cassie lets out a breath she hadn't know she was holding. It seems like in just this one situation, Steve is willing to let her get away with an omission, and she's immeasurably grateful for it.
She gives him a genuine smile to show her gratitude and though Steve doesn't exactly return it, he still isn't leaving either. Her wonder at this small miracle is interrupted by Steve's fingers traveling lightly to the seven small score marks that form the rest of her Legion tattoo. "What are these for?"
"Years," Cassie says. "One line per year."
She doesn't elaborate because she doesn't know how to without saying too much.
For a long moment after that they don't speak. Cassie won't break this silence because again, she doesn't know what else to say. It seems almost impossible that this is all Steve wants to know. More questions must be coming. She just doesn't know what they'll be yet. So instead of breaking the silence she listens to the sounds of patrons chatting and cutlery clattering against plates and tries very hard not to be driven crazy by the sensation of Steve's thumb moving in small, gentle circles over the sensitive skin at the crease of her elbow.
Eventually Steve's hands move down and before Cassie has really processed it he's holding her hand with both of his, cradling it, examining her palm and fingers. He looks back up at her and holds out one hand expectantly. Cassie takes the hint and moves her other hand from where she's been using it to brace against the table and in to his waiting palm.
Once she's done that Steve flips her hands in his so that both of their palms are facing upwards. The tips of his fingers are long enough that they curve upwards over the bones of her wrists. Cassie's on the other hand, just graze the heals of his hands. "What you did the other day for Nat," he says. "That's part of your abilities right? Healing."
Cassie nods her head in the affirmative. "Yeah. Apollo is the god of healing and medicine in general which is where most of the ability comes from. Mercury being the god of healers helps me use it the right way."
"Is that why you want to be a doctor?" he wants to know. "Because you can heal people anyway?"
She feels her eyebrows furrow as she attempts to answer his question. "It's a little more complicated than that," she tells him. "Like, gods this is hard to explain. Is there anything that you're just good at? Something that no one else had to teach you how to do?"
Steve nods meditatively. "Drawing," he says. "Even before I got the serum I knew how to draw. It wasn't always easy or good, but it never felt hard either."
"That's what healing is for me," Cassie tells him. "I can touch a person in pain and know how to help them. It's," she searches for the right words. "It's instinctual for me. It's like doing a Rubik's Cube and knowing immediately which squares are out of place and how to shift them back if I focus." She shrugs. "It's like a sixth sense, or an extra limb. It's a part of me, and I can't get rid of it. I have to use it. Its-" she searches for the right words. "Its almost the only thing on Earth that I'm just good at, that I just know how to do."
"You want to help people," Steve says like he's just realized the truth of the words. Cassie nods but she doesn't know if Steve sees it because he hasn't looked up from where he holds her palms in his. One of his fingers brushes the archery callus on her finger, another against the scar at the base of her thumb from a snapped bow string. "Why?" he says quietly.
Cassie doesn't know how to answer that question. Eventually she settles on the simplest answer. "Because I believe that that's my choice," she says. "Because the gods can give me power but they don't get to tel me how to use it. Because the fates exist but I don't have to let them control how I live my life. I have a choice," she repeats quietly. "I chose, at least when I can, to do good."
A small smile crosses Steve's face as though he's remembering something a little bittersweet. "Before I was given the serum, the man who invented it told me that he had chosen me because I was basically good," he tells her. "He said that the serum intensified everything. That good men became great, and bad men became worse."
Cassie contemplates that for a moment. "That makes sense," she concludes. "If you give a man enough strength they can either move a mountain to clear a path or crush it to rain carnage down on a village below. Extreme abilities allowing for more extreme actions." She lifts one hand a little and gestures between the two of them before placing her hand back in his. "You and me, we have extremes."
Something seems to cross Steve's mind. "When you touched my face earlier," he says. "When you helped me see your tattoo. Was that healing? Or was it something else?"
"That's a little bit complicated," she tells him.
Steve looks around them at the mostly empty diner and then pulls his phone from his pocket. He powers off the device and lays it on the table. "We have time," he says, fixing her with his gaze.
A deep breath rattles a little as Cassie pulls it in between her teeth. "Okay," she says. "I'm not the best at explaining this," she warms. "So just bear with me okay? I'll do my best but there's going to be shit I just can't clarify. There'll be questions you have that I just can't answer. And it won't be because I don't want to, it'll be because I honestly don't know. Okay?"
He nods and his hands tighten a little on hers as he seems to almost physically prepare himself for her explanation. "Alright," she says. "Uh... Do you know how your immune system works?" Steve looks a little confused by her line of questioning but he nods. "Good. So you know that basically it's how your body fights off foreign bodies. Your system recognizes something that doesn't belong there and does it's best to reject it. Well, most people's minds work basically the same way."
"How do you mean?" he prompts. "People's minds just reject whatever they don't want there?" Cassie takes it as a good sign that he's at least following along with what she's trying to say.
"It's not necessarily that they consciously reject what they don't want," Cassie clarifies. "You don't consciously reject germs when you feel like you're getting sick. Your body, or in this case your mind, just tries to alter what it thinks doesn't belong. Your eyes see something, and if what they see doesn't make sense to your brain, your brain changes what you see to an interpretation that you can consciously understand."
Steve looks a little lost so Cassie draws his attention back to her tattoo. "Take this for instance. It's a symbol of godly power so what people see there depends on what makes the most sense to them. If they're particularly effected by the Mist like most mortals they might see nothing more than blank skin. If they're a little more clear sighted like you are they might see a blurry tattoo but not be able to read it."
"What's the Mist?" Steve asks.
It's clear from his town that he's capitalized the word in his head. Clearly he can tell that it's important but has no idea what it is. "It's like a filter," Cassie says, putting her explanation in to the simplest terms she can. It obscures things that don't make sense to mortals. It's basically like a layer that creates a blank so that mortal minds can project whatever image they think makes the most sense. It can be manipulated with practice, but I've never been very good at that."
The furrow between his eyebrows relaxes for a moment and then re-establishes itself. "How come I could see the tattoo then."
At that Cassie actually manages a grin. "Back to my immune system analogy," she says. "If you get a shot, an immunization, then you don't feel the effects of the bacteria or virus the same way because after being exposed to a sample of the foreign body your system adjusts." She turns he hands over so that they're palm to palm with Steve's. "You met Loki and Thor," she says. "My theory is that meeting them was your immunization shot. Your mind was faced with undeniable proof of gods before you ever met me, so when I told you what I am you were already set up to understand it. The information didn't feel harmful because you're immunization let you see through the gaps."
Steve's expression clears and he lets out a tiny half laugh. "So basically what you're saying is that when I first got here, you gave me my last booster shot and that pulled up the filter."
It's as good a finish of her explanation as Cassie can think of so she nods. "Pretty much. You might see some weird things now. I'm telling you right now don't go near anything that doesn't seem human. It won't die the way you think it will." That thought is a little more serious than she wants it to be so she casts around for something else to say. "Who's been telling you about booster shots?" she asks. "I kind of doubt they were that popular when you were a kid."
Steve rolls his eyes with a huff. "Immunization in general barely existed when I was a kid," he says. "I wish they had been. I've been reading up on them. If I'd been immunized, I might not have gotten measles, or mumps, or pneumonia, or any of the other various viral and bacterial problems that almost killed me when I was a kid. One of the times I had last rights could have been prevented if I'd gotten the shots babies are given as standard operating procedure these days."
It sounds like this is something he could launch a nice tirade about if nudged a little and Cassie kind of wants to be there to video tape it when it happens. She has a feeling it would go internet viral pretty damn fast. She can only imagine how certain members of the United States government would react.
Steve's rant slowly dies out in to a last mutter about heard immunity and then trails off.
Cassie shifts a bit in her seat. "So..." she says finally. "I'm betting you have more questions?"
Steve's hands move under hers until their fingers are twined together. Cassie looks down at them, a little bit fascinated by the overlapping patterns their hands make. His fingers are wider and longer than hers, calloused and roughened from punching and carrying his shield. There's a small ink spot on his right thumb that is still there despite the last few days. Her own fingers are smaller. Long end delicate and well suited for instruments but equally as calloused and dotted with small scars that never quite fade from using her bow.
In some ways their hands are alike she thinks. They both have artists hands, and both of them are scarred and twisted by the instruments they choose to wield. He could draw but he shapes the world with a shield instead, using it like a great vibranium shielder or potter's wheel. Cassie could paint or play any instrument but instead she writes her name on the world with a scalpel and stitches and erases blights with a bow and arrow. She carves out mistakes with a knife and sometimes her music is the pounding of a steady pulse in her ears.
"Not tonight," Steve says gently, watching her. His eyes are clear and warmer than she thinks she's ever seen them. "Not about this." Cassie nods and moves to shift away but Steve's fingers tighten on hers so she can't back up. "I do have a question though." Cassie blinks up at him expectantly. "Can we do this again?" he asks. "Eat dinner. Talk."
"Why Steve Rogers," Cassie says teasingly. "Are you asking me on a date? And you haven't even asked my father for permission yet."
She flips her hair and peers at him through her eyelashes the way girls used to in old movies and grins as Steve blushes. "If a guy has to ask your father for permission to date you I'm shocked you get out at all."
"Well I didn't much," she admits. "Surviving and fighting never left much time to date. In all honesty I don't think my dad actually cared now or then who I date." It's true. Being a god and all, her father tends to be a little bit busy. Besides, he has additional aspects and multiple children he can check in with, plus extra godly things to do. Of all the Olympians Apollo isn't the most together to begin with.
All in all she highly doubts her dad gives a crap about who she dates.
"Waiting on an answer to my question," she says prodding gently. "I've been answering yours all night. Fair is fair wouldn't you say."
"I am a great believer in equality," Steve manages to say with a straight face. His solemn words don't match at all with the glint in his eyes and the paradox makes Cassie smile. Steve looks down to their joined hands and then back up in to her face. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Would you be amenable to coming out with me again?" he asks, and in his voice Cassie can hear the cadences of a well mannered Irish boy from the forties. She thinks this is how the Steve Rogers from before the war might have sounded asking out a girl from the neighborhood. Polite, a little shy, and so damn hopeful it almost hurts.
Cassie gentles her smile and if she didn't know more about how her godly powers work she would wonder if it's possible for her to actually be glowing a little bit. In that moment she feels warm and almost safe despite everything that's happened over the last few days and everything that will happen in the days to come.
For the moment, all she is is just happy and the feeling is almost unfamiliar enough to be startling.
More than anything she wants this happiness to last. She wants it to be normal. Cassie doesn't want her own happiness to feel alien.
"Yes," she says. "I would like that very much."
A/N: So there we are. I know this chapter was mostly conversation and explanation but I felt like it was about time for Cassie to explain things to Steve. I spent a bunch of time trying to get the conversation to make sense. You guys will have to tell me how I did on that but I think it turned out okay. I wasn't completely sure if I should end the chapter here or keep going but this felt like the last natural stopping point for a little while and the chapter was already almost 9k long. Anyway, tell me what you thought! Review for me! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo