By evening, the base finally beca livelier as everyone gathered to discuss their operational plans. Peter had brought pizza on his way back, and everyone indulged themselves.
The polished cocktail glass was tossed high in the air, spun around a couple of tis in the bar lights, and fell like a falling star into Matt's hands. He twirled the glass in his hand to the cheers of a few children. Blade Warrior Eric sat on the sofa, spinning terrifying tales of vampires for them.
Peter, Steve, Erica, and Hawkeye Barton were playing Ludo, their eyes on their pieces while discussing the recent incidences at S.H.I.E.L.D. Soon, several mutant children and Eric joined them, all sitting in a circle, chatting.
In the underground base, with no windows to judge the light, it seed the joyful atmosphere could last as long as the lights were on.
But soon, the younger children started to feel drowsy, and each went to their rooms to rest. Those who had to work the next day also left.
In the end, only Steve remained, sitting on the sofa and clearing away the pizza boxes from the table. Peter and Matt had wanted to stay and help him, but Steve declined.
He had thought he needed so alone ti to clear his sowhat chaotic thoughts. Yet when the ti ca, a feeling of unease began to creep into his heart.
As he reached out to grab the pizza boxes, he noticed his fingertips trembling non-stop. Steve was taken aback, surprised at the reaction of his own body. When had his hands started shaking?
"No..." Steve denied inwardly.
"It must have just started. The others probably didn't notice."
Yet another voice inside him pointed out that this had been happening for a while now, that everyone had seen. Seen him looking pale and worried, hands shaking, lacking in confidence. They wouldn't trust him anymore, wouldn't see Captain Arica as an indestructible leader. They'd think he was finished, no longer the Savior...
"Thud!" A stack of pizza boxes fell from his grasp onto the ground. Steve leaned back forcefully into the sofa, making a creaking noise as though to demonstrate his strength.
He pinched his brow, feeling the muscles in his arm trembling, a dull ache running from his shoulder down to his elbow. Still, he insisted on not resting his arm, like a wooden puppet straining to get used to its newly gained limbs.
Steve was trying to tell his body in a stern tone: "You must obey , stay still, calm, and powerful!"
But the more he did so, the more he felt he was losing control over his body. An anxious feeling was gradually consuming him, knowing sothing wasn't right yet feeling powerless to correct it.
Steve tried hard to take deep breaths, but he didn't notice that his in-breaths and exhalations were getting shallower and quicker until the air passing through his nostrils and lips made a soft puffing sound. Then, he pursed his lips tightly, until his entire face beca rigid.
Finally, a sense of groundless panic swallowed him. Gulping down his saliva, his trembling arm reached into his pocket to extract his phone. After dialing a number he said, "Hello? Doctor? I think I might need treatnt. Can you see tomorrow morning?... All right, thank you."
"...How am I holding up now? No, it's actually all right. I'm just feeling a bit nervous, probably due to fatigue."
"Okay, I'll try to breathe to the rhythm of that tir? But I feel that...it's a bit slow. That's not my pace."
"Okay, I'll try, inhale...exhale..."
With each exhalation getting longer, sleepiness began to creep in on Steve, but his anxiety prevented him from succumbing to sleep. He didn't know what he might dream of. A few minutes after hanging up the phone, he was still wide awake but had a splitting headache.
He stayed awake until morning. Just as he was about to go to the therapist's office, he hesitated at the doorstep. He even considered calling Doctor Shiller to cancel his appointnt. Yet, in the end, he eventually stepped out the door and got into the car.
Upon arriving at the therapy clinic in Hell's Kitchen, he saw Shiller in a suit sitting behind his desk. For so reason, Steve didn't feel like going closer. The person in front of him felt like a stranger.
Shiller's finger moved and Steve instantly looked in his direction. When Shiller stood up, Steve quickly stepped back. He froze for a mont, then turned around to shut the door, pretending that he had backed up only to close the door.
Eventually, he walked up to the desk and shook hands with Shiller. When they both sat back down, Shiller introduced himself, "As you may already know, I am Shiller's alternate persona. Therefore, I was not involved in the previous therapy sessions between you two, but I've read through all his dical records about you..."
"Are you a psychiatrist too?" Steve asked him, "Can't you bring Doctor Shiller back?"
"My experience is far more extensive than his. In all the cases I've encountered, yours would be categorized as mild, so there's no need to worry. You'll start to feel better soon."
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