4 Months Later
"So, I've started going back into school again…" I started, hunched over in the leather chair in my therapist's office. My talk therapist, my arms still aren't healed enough to being physical therapy. She smiled at me through coke bottle glasses. Her eyes were magnified by the glass, giving the already wispy woman an insectoid appearance.
"How are you faring?" the doctor asked me. I looked down, too anxious to meet her stare.
"As well as it could, I guess," I answered in a soft voice, "The administration is letting Pendragon come with me to my classes as a helper." The doctor nodded, still smiling like she was probably trained to do in psychology school. It was oddly unnerving.
"How are your classes?" She asked, probing for something I'm sure.
"They're…" I trailed off, not really sure how to answer, "They're okay." The doctor didn't answer, and I recalled something I read online about not saying anything to prompt the other person to talk to fill up the silence. However, I'm not the kind of person to crack under that kind of person in this situation.
After what felt like an eternity, I cracked. Not in the way the therapist probably was hoping for, though. "I'm sorry," I said, "I can't do this today. Sorry to waste your time." She waved it off and bid me farewell. Weird, she should have asked me why. On my way out, I ignored the receptionist calling out to me to make an appointment for next week. I'll make the appointment later, I told myself.
Pendragon had been in the waiting room, doing what carers do and taking me where I needed to go. He was surprised to see me leaving so early, my hour wasn't over yet and we hadn't been there for very long. Thankfully, he didn't ask until we were inside the car.
In the wake of my official diagnosis of PTSD, anxiety, and depression, Pendragon had purchased a car using SHIELD's money so we could get around without a driver like we had been doing before the Invasion. It was small, black, and so generic that no one would look twice at us or remember it. As the engine started up, he turned the heat on so we wouldn't freeze in the New York state winter. The engine was still warm enough that hot air blew out of the vents immediately. I pressed the button to turn the seat heater on and fumbled with the seat belt buckle.
"Jacqueline," Pendragon began. Uh-oh. Nothing good ever beings with my name like that. "What happened in there? You had 45 minutes left." I chewed at a scab on my lip. Mouth chewing had turned into a bad anxiety habit of mine, and I couldn't break it.
"I couldn't. Not today." I said quietly, sinking into my seat and hugging my still bandaged arms around me. Pendragon recognized the motion and went quiet. Putting the car into reverse, he backed out of the spot and pulled out of the parking lot. My eyes stung, and I bit my lip harder. It hurt to know that he was disappointed in me.
My head jerked up when we pulled into a new parking lot. We weren't even back into the city yet. Glancing at the building in front of us, I looked for a sign. Dave's Diner? I turned to stare at Pendragon with a confused look on my face. He noticed, but said nothing. Instead, he smiled at me cheerfully and motioned for me to exit the car. I fumbled with the buckle for a moment, before Pen reached over and released me.
Inside the restaurant, it was warm and only a little busy. There were a few people at the counter, and a couple couples in booths, sipping on coffee and eating and talking. Classic rock n' roll played on the radio behind the counter, sitting on a shelf by the soda fountain. An ancient looking tv sat on the other side of the bar. The waitress pouring coffee looked up as the door chimed our arrival.
"Two?" She asked and Pen nodded. "Sit anywhere you like and I'll be right with you." She smiled politely and swept out from behind the counter to offer refills to the various parties situated around the diner. Pendragon helped me out of my coat and we sat ourselves on the stools at the counter. Since I still can't manipulate utensils very well, it wouldn't do much good if he was across from me at a table or booth.
The waitress dropped two menus in front of us and told us to give her a wave when we were ready to order. I reached for the ancient laminated folder of delicious only to remember that I can't handle anything so thin with mummy hands. I grabbed the knife with my bandage mittens and used it to flip open the pages.
"Smart." Pendragon said with a failed attempt to not laugh at my misfortunes. Asshole. I stuck my tongue at him and read through the breakfast section. I pondered my options for a while, before becoming torn between a big belgian waffle, or a stack of strawberry pancakes. Pen had already selected a burger and fries, and I asked him to help me choose.
"You know," he began, "You don't have to get breakfast food." I shot him a weird look.
"Blasphemer." I said, and decided to order the pancakes with fried eggs and bacon. Then I flipped the menu and saw the milkshakes. Pendragon noticed my little gasp of excitement and encouraged me to get one, so I waved down the waitress and we placed our orders. I saw her trying to sneak subtle glances at my hands and suddenly felt uncomfortable. I wanted to crawl into a hole where no one could see me or my bandages.
"Hey," I heard a soft voice. Tearily, I looked up to find Pendragon smiling softly at me. "It's okay, no one is looking at your hands now." I glanced around the room and nodded. Everyone was engaged in their conversations, eating their food, or looking at their phones. The eyes that I felt bearing down on me were a result my anxiety, I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. The waitress returned with the milkshake and some free water and I felt instantly a little better when I tasted the sweet, cool chocolate. Even if I can't control my fear, at least I can eat my feelings in the form of sugar.
The food came and Pendragon cut up my food for me. I insisted that I would be able to get it in my mouth on my own, and that he should enjoy his food while it was hot. Pen relented when I picked up a fork overhand style and and stabbed the pancakes with it. The small boxy television on the bar was playing some old tv show reruns, the volume turned down so that the radio could be heard better. Several people at the bar were watching it when suddenly the screen went dark.
"Hey! Something's happened to the tv!" One of the older men called out, drawing the attention of every single person in the diner. The screen turned red, showing an emblem of crossed curved swords, surrounded by some kind of kanji in circles. The patron closest to the tv turned up the volume while the waitress turned down the radio. The image changed to quickly cycled photos and videos of wars, guns, bombs, children crying and people being gunned down. Everyone was awestruck, unable to look away. The slideshow ended with a man in rich looking Chinese robes, emerald in color and embroidered yellow. He had a thick beard, aviator sunglasses, and thin hair pulled back into a bun.
"I am the Mandarin," he stated in an unplacable accent, "But your government calls me a terrorist. America is weak, you have grown fat and lazy, comforted by the ignorance of your military's wrongdoings. I have merely made them suffer the cost of their violence." More horrific film clips flashed by of military brutality, and the mushroom cloud of a nuclear explosion. "War is coming to American soil, you cannot run. You cannot escape it. You will never see me coming."
His face disappeared and the video turned into a new reporter announcing that the mysterious network takeover was over. It had affected every station in the U.S. and they advised the viewers to not worry about what they had seen. The government would handle it.
Pen and I exchanged nervous looks. New York was still under repair from the Invasion and I doubted it would be able to bounce back after a terrorist attack on top of it. The military was spread so thinly across the Middle East, it wouldn't be able to protect us in the event of a war. We agreed that we should talk to Tony and see if there was anything that we could do.
Pendragon asked for the bill as I polished off the last of my food. When he scanned the receipt, he asked why the milkshake wasn't on it. The waitress looked at me and smiled.
"You got hurt in the city right? When the aliens came?" My eyes widened and I nodded. "It's on the house, I'm sure the hospital is already dragging you down with bills. You feel better now." I thanked her profusely and made a mental note to continue to spend my money at her. Pendragon counted out a big tip and tucked it into the booklet before we walked out. I felt a lot better than I had before.
