nexus_sages | Hello Soldier

There is a man in the Nexus. Standing tall, he is cut like a champion athlete or a Greek god. The uniform he wears proclaims him to be proudly American - a star emblazoned across his chest - and the shield that hangs on his back should leave no doubt as to who he is. He pores meticulously over one of the brochures, brows furrowed as he reads the strange information it provides. Having finished it, he shakes his head in disbelief before sliding it into a pocket and looking up to pay more attention to his surroundings.

"First a robot tries to take over the world and now this," he mumbles to himself. Passing a hand across his eyes he lets out a quiet sigh before straightening his shoulders and turning to the the Nexus at large. The instructions are to ask a question, and he seems to wrestle for a moment with his thoughts. Captain America has no room for doubt, but Steve Rogers? Well, he could use a fresh viewpoint, and if he's lucky this will all be some strange dream and he'll at least wake up with a little clarity.

"Duty entails sacrifice. That's a pretty cut and dried concept. How do you know if you're sacrificing too much? Is there a too much?"

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*She smirks.*

Good way to take a break, certainly.

"Sounds like something I should look into. Not a lot of time for breaks back home."

It's important to make time. The greatest strategist on most Earths will tell you that.

"Rack time's important. But you know how it is. Bad things don't stop happening just because we need the rest."

Are you the only one in your world who can handle those bad things?

"No ma'am. Part of a team. Running it actually. I'd rather not leave them on their own."

*Samus tsks disapprovingly.*

Think like an officer, Captain. Sometimes, you need to delegate. If you don't trust your people to do the jobs, then you don't trust your people. If you do trust them, then trust them, and take your day off when it's your turn.

He blinks at that. Considering it for a moment.

"I trust them to play their parts. But we work as a unit. Everyone has a job to do, everyone's a cog in the machine. One of those cogs goes missing, the machine doesn't always work so well."

And the machine grinds to a halt if one piece gets rotated out for maintenance? Bad design, that.

*Platitudes and excuses don't do much to impress her.*

You live in, what, the twenty-first century? Do you really think, if you took one day off every week, and a crisis came up on that day, that you'd be more than a phone call away, anyway?

That actually gets him to think. He's silent for a long moment while he chews on her point of view, before finally nodding.

"I suppose I've been thinking more like a soldier than a leader."

You've been using the habits that have always worked before.

*Her tone is less stern, now, gentler. She has no patience for fools, but a deep reserve for those working to improve.*

But when circumstances change, you need to examine those habits, see if they still serve you. Clinging to old habits blindly will do worse than get you killed.

"Makes a lot of sense. Gonna take some getting used to though. Haven't had much free time for a long while. To be honest I don't even know what I'd do with myself."

Because Captain America just doesn't take holidays. Even if he really should.

Do what I did, and learn a new skill: how to relax.

*She gives him a sympathetic smirk.*

I was worse at it than you, when I first got here. Didn't even take off my helmet for months.

"Haven't had much practice with that."

He grins back good-naturedly.

"I know the feeling. When I first woke up, lotta things took getting used to. Sitting on cushioned chairs, not being alert at every loud noise. Worn the uniform so long it's hard to remember a time I was without it."

*That description brings her up short. She places a hand on his shoulder, and looks seriously, sternly into his eyes.*

See. A. Therapist. They will help you, in a way you need help.

He raises a brow at her. That's the first time someone's brought that up since he's been thawed. Fury seemed plenty eager to get him back into the field without all that.

"Can't see how it'd hurt. Though I feel fine."

*Her gaze is unwavering, unblinking, uncompromising.*

No. You don't. You only think you do, because you've gotten used to the sound of your own brain screaming. Now promise me: when you get home, job one is finding a therapist who specializes in soldiers coming home.

He blinks, a little taken aback by the intensity.

"Fair enough. First thing. I'm sure Tony'd know at least a few."

*After a long moment of those hard eyes, she relaxes, lets go of his shoulder, and smiles. She'll even give his arm a pat.*

Good. That's good.

Hello Soldier

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