A/N: So, I haven't abandoned my Venom fic, but its still in progress. I wrote this to heal from something I've been going through. Please R & R.

If there's one thing Steve absolutely hates at the moment, its the alarm clock on his bedside desk shrilling to the point of almost bursting his eardrums. He hits it a couple of times and lays back on the bed. Another day, same old. He sighs and runs a hand over his eyes. The sun has already started peeking out of the horizon, which means he must get up and get ready for work. Some part of him wants to sleep all day but damn it Steve, that shield isn't gonna go to work by itself. No matter how mundane the work can be, its his job.

He drags himself out of bed, sullenly. Thirty minutes later he's showered, brushed and in uniform, pulling the black leather jacket closer to himself. He shivered. September had just began its second week and he was this cold. He puffs out a breath and closes the door to his house. He of course, hasn't had any breakfast. It might be because he has nothing in his cupboard and fridge except for Phil's homemade dinners in Tupperware. Or just because he enjoys eating at Rosa's, okay?

When he pulls up to said place, the red and blue neon words 'Silver Spoon' stare back at him blankly through his windshield. The bell jingles and chimes when he crosses the threshold, and he is greeted by a series of 'Morning, Cap!' by the occupants in the diner. He greets them back and slips onto the red bar stool as quietly as he can. The air pleasantly smells of bacon, hot coffee and a hint of lemon refresher. The wall behind the counter is used up by adverts and posters and the shelves full of condiments, electrical appliances and small decorations.

"The regular?" Rosa Temple questions as she wipes the counter, bright smile drawn on her slightly wrinkled face. She's in her usual checkered apron and blue shirt, red plastic rimmed spectacles and khaki pants. Her grey hair is up in a tight bun.

"Yes. With maple syrup." "

Black?"

"Yes please."

The woman nods and makes the order to Javier in rapid Spanish. Steve looks around. Jasper Sitwell is sitting alone in the first booth, flipping over the Daily Mirror. He puts the paper down, something akin distaste forming on his face and readjusts his red and blue tie for what must be the umpteenth time, Steve is sure. Jasper likes his ties. He of course, works in town hall so being neat in an over the top manner is expected of him. The man catches his eye, waves and returns to his bacon and eggs, newspaper forgotten.

Kenneth Morita is in the second booth with Everett Ross, in the middle of what seems to be a tense debate. Was this about the sudden change of public funds or the state of decay that is starting to descend upon the firehouse? Steve would never know.

Erik Selvig is absorbed in his Astrophysics book in the third booth, seemingly ignoring Darcy's attempt to start a conversation. The girl pouts and resumes to stare at her leftover waffles, picking at them in boredom.

A plate of pancakes is placed in front of him, followed by syrup and a cup of black coffee and double chocolate brownies which are on the house. "You're spoiling me, Rosa!" He complains and is about to add more money on the counter when the woman stops him, shaking her head firmly.

"Dessert is always free for you, Sheriff." She winks and walks away to serve other customers. Steve's hope of eating breakfast quietly is crushed when Thor steps into the establishment. His loud, boisterous voice is not hard to recognize as he warmly greets the patrons, claps Jasper's back so hard the man spits out a little of his breakfast, vigorously shakes hands with Principal Morita and kisses Darcy's cheek. Steve liked Thor. A lot. But today just wasn't the day where he felt like managing conversation. He tried to make himself as small and as inconspicuous as possible but the muscular, Norse like man notices him right away.

"Morning, Captain!" Thor slides into the seat next to Steve. "A cappuccino, Mrs. Temple. Wonderful day, isn't it, Steve?"

"If only it were less cold." The sheriff muttered.

"Oh, yes. Thirty five of our finest horses are being trucked off to Michigan this month. I hope they'll be taken care of. It looks like snow will fall early this year." Thor worked on a ranch a little out of town. He had a really good thing with animals, he should've been a vet. He instead dived into the family business of horse breeding. His brother Luke, or Loki, was far more ambitious and took his interests elsewhere or rather, as far as the town could provide. That said, he was an English Lit teacher at MCU. For all his disdain for the community in which he grew up in, he like everyone else didn't really want to leave. Nobody left town. They always came back. Steve came back. It was in the blood.

"The bill, Mrs. Temple." Jasper called out.

"I hear they aren't renovating the courthouse." Thor speaks up loudly enough for Jasper to hear.

"Oh, we don't know yet. Smith's handling that thing."

"Smith is shit at doing stuff," the newly arrived Clint Barton exclaims in disgust. He's in his ranger uniform and his boots have a bit of mud stuck on them.

"Language," Steve scolds.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n." The sheriff looks at the time. Fifteen minutes till work starts. He stood up and put on his hat. "Have a good day, ladies and gents. Nice shirt, Barton."

Clint gives him the middle finger. He knows that wasn't supposed to be a compliment. It's exactly seven forty-five when Steve arrives at the police station. He's done three errands since he departed from the diner, including checking in on Turk Barrett who is in house arrest — again. Carol, his main deputy, is already behind her desk, filling paperwork. She curtly responds to his greeting and returns to work. He has yet to see her smile. He's given up hope she'll ever laugh. She's good at her job though, and someone he considers a friend. Jessica is shoving someone in a cell, muttering what must be curses.

"Already?" Steve asked.

"This early? Yeah, I already got someone. This idiot broke into someone's house early this morning. Busted up shit. Peed on the sofas. He's strung up on coke or something. It took me half an hour to get the mugshots done. A fucking half an hour."

Detective Jessica Jones is a spitfire black haired woman with a thing for ripped jackets, red lipstick, foul language and drinks.

"Well, you got him."

"Oh, and there's a new case on your desk. There was also a breaking in at the Town Hall."

"What?! When?"

"Last night, eleven-ish." Jessica rubbed a hand over her forehead. "His highness wants to see you, like, now."

This can't be good. Nick Fury did not simply call upon the sheriff. He rarely called anyone outside the Mayor's office for anything. Even if a gunman had showed up, he wouldn't call anyone. He was a man who preferred to do things by himself. Like beating the shit out of said gunman. He wasn't a colonel for nothing. But Steve being called for... This meant something important had happened. Steve sighed. Mundane. Not.

He wasn't that far off from the crime scene when somebody waved him over. If the classic silver Toyota sedan with heavy scratches on the slightly caved in shotgun door was any indication, the woman he assumed to be the driver was a newcomer in town. He crossed the street and strode towards her.

"Hi, Officer. Thank God," she said. She was hyperventilating. Small beads of perspiration were already forming on her forehead. She was a petite blond woman with a sharp nose, high cheekbones and big blue eyes. Her tan coat looked too big on her thin frame, but she was dressed pretty nicely in office attire, namely a pastel blouse and grey pencil skirt.

"How can I help you, ma'am?"

"You see, I'm supposed to be at the Daily Mirror anytime now, but I got lost and my car just broke down in what I assume to be someone's parking space which I can get a ticket for, and the cell reception here isn't that good in this weather and I don't know where the auto repair shop — I'm babbling, aren't I?" She must've noticed Steve's amused smile and she blushed.

Steve shook his head. "I understand. You just want to get to work

early and make a first impression. No worries. The Mirror doesn't open up till eight fifteen. You've got plenty of time to make it. You from New York?" He had already whipped out his phone for a tow truck.

"What?"

"Are you from New York?"

"Yeah. Yes, actually." She stuttered.

"Brooklyn. Got any luggage in there, Miss?"

"Its Karen. Karen Page." They shook hands. Realizing that Steve was staring at her, her eyes widened in realization. "Oh! The luggage!"

She opened the trunk where three suitcases, two duffel bags and three extra size boxes sat close together. Too close. Like, they were squeezed so tightly together to the point of suffocating.

"Got a place to stay?"

"Um, I arrived this morning but I hear there's a place called the Sanctuary. It isn't out of commission, is it?"

He didn't get a chance to answer because Luke's red tow truck had already arrived. The large black man stepped out of the vehicle and walked towards them, his faded blue overalls unbuttoned to reveal a crisp white tee. He smiled widely at Karen and shook her bony hand. Steve could tell she was intimidated. Most people were.

"Luke, this is Karen Page. Miss Page, this mountain here is Luke Cage."

"They rhyme..." The woman observed.

"She needs to drop off her stuff at the Sanctuary. And she'll need a ride to the Mirror. There's something up with her car."

"Mack will fix it fine. Come on Miss Page."

Karen closed the trunk as Luke pulled the hook towards her sedan. "Thank you, Officer."

"Pleasure, ma'am." She nodded and followed Luke to the truck.

"And Miss Page?" She turned to look at him. "Welcome to Pleasant Hill."