Steve
Steve smiled kindly at Percy. He'd seen him in the cemetery and felt a flicker of sympathy. Whoever he was talking to was clearly missed. Steve knew what it was like to miss people who had passed on, even while you still desperately needed them with you.
"Hey I just want to see how strong you are, so we're gonna head down to the gym ok?" Percy coughed a little nervously.
"Down?" Steve suddenly remembered the aversion to the elevator.
"You know what, why don't we arm wrestle instead." He suggested gently. Percy got a stubborn look in his eyes.
"I'm good. Let's go lift."
Steve was duly impressed. The kid could bench almost as much as he could. He wasn't even that out of breath!
Percy kept clenching and unclenching his fists in the elevator and Steve pretended not to notice the slight panting that had started. Just like before he shot out of the elevator as quickly as he could. Steve frowned slightly. He may be new to the 21st century, but even in the 40's soldiers got shell shock. If Steve wasn't mistaken (which he's not) this seventeen year old kid was displaying every sign of it.
'What happened to this kid?'
AN: I know people are going to point out all sorts of fact to me about shell shock and PTSD and such; but before PTSD was a term, people said shell shock. Yes the term originated from the PTSD soldiers and people involved in the military got from explosions from shells, which is where shell shock got it's name, it's acurate for my story and I don't really need to hear people correcting me on something that it correct anyways. Thanks.
But besides that I love reviews; I do read all of them and I appreciate everyone of you who does take the time to write me one.