✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* "what shame we all remain,
such fragile broken things
a beauty half betrayed
butterflies with punctured wings " *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
- PARAMORE

⸻ 02 TRAUMA ISN'T ONE SIZE FITS ALL

Lola didn't see the ball-capped stranger until the following Wednesday.

He showed up early once more, again with his cap and glasses. He opened the door, pausing and holding it up for Nova. She heard him fumble over his words when Nova made the joke, "If I can swerve a jeep to miss an IED, I think I can open my own door."

The stranger clearly missed her sarcasm, starting to profusely apologize only for Nova to give his shoulder a nudge, "I'm just playing. It was very gentlemanly of you, not much of that these days." She chuckled as she moved to sit down in one of the folding metal chairs. Lola shook her head and moved back to finish unfolding the back row of seats.
The air conditioning motor could be heard echoing through the room as it challenged to keep up with the sweltering temperatures outside, despite the sun's glow beginning to shift as the evening approached. Today was a smaller meeting, only a few more familiar faces approaching and filtering into chairs as they caught up with one another and faint laughter could be heard among the exchanges. Lola smiled, checking her watch before moving to pour herself a cup of coffee and heading up to the podium. She pulled up the stool she sat on behind it, using it to disguise the fact that the podium was almost as tall as she was, and hopped on it. "Alright, let's get started!" She clapped enthusiastically, making sure to make eye contact with everyone she could. "Last week we covered the topic of acknowledging things, confirming that they happened so we can begin our healing process. Nova and Ms. Angela were both kind enough to tell their stories last week. Today I want everyone to share one thing. It can be as simple as you can't sleep because of what happened, or telling us something from the war that still haunts you."

The doctor could have sworn she heard crickets chirp as everyone avoided her green gaze. She took a sip from her paper cup before sitting it down and placing her hands on her knees. "Alright, I'll go first this time hm?" She cleared her throat, attempting to hide the sweating of her palms as she wiped them on her jeans discreetly, "I served in Afghanistan, I was an army doctor. I had all kinds of people brought to me, and a lot the Lord blessed me enough to send home." She looked around, only to find the man in the back looking at her. She scratched her knee through the ripped jeans. "But one day, I had a soldier brought to me. It was his first time in combat, he was only eighteen. He'd been caught by shrapnel from a shell explosion. Died on my table at 14:52, August 7th, 2007."

Silence hung in the air, causing Lola to shiver as the memories flashed before her. The blood spatters and the beeping as he crashed, round and round of shocks and epinephrine. The sound of the machine finally flatlining, the violent screams coming to a halt. She shook her head, looking back at the group in front of her to find the ball-capped man raising his hand.

"Go ahead...uh.." She paused, realizing she never learned his name.

"Steve is fine." He hummed, hands clasped as he shifted in his seat. His hands fidgeted as they unclasped and moved to smooth out a crinkle in his khakis. As he cleared his throat, he moved to take off his sunglasses and reveal a piercing blue gaze. There was in fact no damage to his face at all, but rather your stereotypical attractive man with bright eyes and tufts of blonde peeking out from his cap. "My.... team. I'm the only one who's..." She could see the words get caught in his throat, his eyes threatening to glisten as it seemed the words were foreign to him. Like he'd yet to physically announce whatever was to come next. "I'm the only one left."

Lola felt a twinge in her heart. It wasn't the first time she'd heard of a sole survivor, and she knew it was one of the worst things to wrestle with. "Thank you for sharing, Steve." She gave him a nod, but he was already staring back at his hands. While she, unfortunately, wasn't a mind reader, it was clear the soldier's mind was alive, gears churning beneath. If anything, the man just continued to leave her curious. It is common for soldiers to behave like a fish out of water when they were brought back to civilian life, but this was different. Lola watched him for a moment before calling on the next hand raised, her mystery staring out of the window at the setting New York sky. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The last of the stragglers trickled out of the room, leaving Lola with her garbage bag and tossing napkins and coffee cups, followed by empty doughnut boxes. The room was quiet as she hummed to herself, turning to tie up her bag when she ran into something so solid she swore the wall had moved. She looked up to find a man standing right there, after a shriek she looked up and recognized Steve. She whacked his arm before her hand moved to her chest, "Jesus Christ. How do you move so quietly?!"

Steve's eyes widened as he instantly took a step back, hands moving up. "I'm sorry, I just came over to see if you needed any help. I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's alright." Lola couldn't help her chuckle, shaking her head as she smiled. She looked up at Steve for a moment, finally able to see his features up close when it hit her. He was the man they pulled out of the ice. "You're Captain Steve Rogers, aren't you?"
Steve scratched the back of his neck, "Tabloids, huh?"

"Well, I mean, probably. But actually, I just recognize you from the medical journals. How you survived so long in the ice and the serum? You're a medical marvel. Fascinating really. Scientists have discussed cryogenics but I honestly didn't think it would ever be feasible."

"Thanks?" Steve chuckled nervously, reaching up to adjust his ballcap before moving to start folding the first chair.

"I'm sure such a famous war hero could get expensive professional therapy. What brings you here?" She asked curiously, tilting her head as she looked back at him. She moved to pull off the table cloth and began to fold it, moving to put it in her bag so it could be taken home and washed.

Steve moved along his row of chairs, easily folding them before he would hang them on the opposite arm. "I'm honestly not sure. I just saw the flyer outside last Wednesday and wandered in."

"Well, I've always preferred this way. No one really understands what you're feeling better than another soldier." Lola moved to the coffee maker and opened the top, pulling out the soaked and grimy filter and throwing it into her bag before replacing it with a new white one. "Community can help us through some of our toughest times."

"I don't think there's exactly a community for what I'm going through," Steve chuckled, looking over at her before nodding to the corner. "Over here?" He gestured to his chairs.

"That's fine," she hummed before grabbing the dirty pot. "You're right. None of us truly understand exactly what you're going through. However, more people in this room understand loss. I'm not saying we'll be able to empathize entirely and put ourselves completely in your shoes, however." She paused, setting it down and turning back to Steve and leaning back against the table. "No one truly understands what anyone's been through. Our pain is as personalized as our DNA. However, in this room especially we can bond over the common themes of death and fear. We're all just trying to process and move on. War is nasty, but it's given us an opportunity that I honestly think is a gift. I think the most beautiful thing in this life is the opportunity to completely reinvent ourselves into something new and unexpected."

Steve gave a nod, "That's a wise way to think about it. So, what'd you invent yourself into, Miss Rhodes?"

"Lola, please," she chuckled. "I haven't fully decided yet. I stopped practicing medicine, opened a record shop, and I do this. Still helping people, I guess. What about you? Are you going to try and serve again?"

"Maybe." He nodded, placing his hands on his hip. "The army is all I know and understand anymore. As far as I can tell, times may have changed but there's always a bully to take down."

Lola nodded, giving a shrug. "I suppose you're right. As of right now Captain, your future is in your hands. While the old days and people are gone, you have the chance to do whatever you want to do."

Steve paused, standing up straight as he looked ahead, hands sliding into his pockets. "I suppose you're right." He kicked at the ground. "Y'know, I spent my whole life trying to get into the army. All I wanted to do was serve my country."

"You put a plane in the water at the expense of what you thought was your own life. You saved millions of lives. You've served your country, Rogers." She moved to pick up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. "Maybe it's time you thought about serving yourself. If that looks like the army then go for it, if it looks like something else, go for it. We aren't government property anymore. Well, at least I'm not. I didn't have an ad campaign for eagles and showgirls in flags," she teased lightly, earning a grin from Steve as he looked at the floor and then back at her. "Like a circus monkey."

"I never thought about it like that, but yeah." She grinned, "well, I suppose we should head out. I need to lock up."

"I know you can handle—" Steve paused midfumble, almost like he was resetting himself before starting over. "May I walk you to your car?" He asked as he moved to get the door for her.

"I actually walk here," she hummed as she reached into her bag and grabbed her keys, "but you are quite the gentleman aren't you?"

Steve's eyes widened. "Alone? In the dark?"

"Yessir," she chuckled as she walked out of the door, pausing before she grinned back at him. "It's literally around the corner."

"Well so am I. Respectfully ma'am I think it would be better if I went with you." Steve waited for her to fish out her keys and remember which one locked the door. "Well, I suppose I'm less likely to get mugged with the Star Spangled Man with a Plan walking me home."

The taller man rolled his eyes. "So I suppose that's a yes."

"It is." She laughed before nodding and leading him off the community center steps, "C'mon. It's this way."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

"So, so far how would you rate 2011?" She questioned and Steve walked along the sidewalk that had led to her clapboard townhouse. He insisted on standing on the side closest to the road, in case some wild car decided to jump the curb. Lola had insisted that she would of known to dodge it, but then Steve reminded her that the super soldier in him gave him better odds.

"Very loud." He chuckled softly, hands in his pockets as he walked her up to the front door. "Loud colors, loud styles, things I'd never imagine. I thought the wildest thing the future held was flying cars."

"We're for sure living in crazy times." She chuckled softly, "I can imagine it's quite the culture shock."

"It is. There's so much music, movies, all kinds of things. Apparently you don't even need to send a telegram anymore, you can just type it out on this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
"Google is so helpful."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Tell you what, you stop by my record shop and I'll set you up with some good music hm? And we'll get you a vinyl player."

"Sounds good to me." He nodded, smiling back at her. "Thank you, I haven't much talked to anyone who isn't a scientist or a guard."

"Anytime, " She chuckled, "I can give you my number if you'd like, I can give you the twenty first century run down."

"Sure." He hummed, turning on his phone.

"I can put it in your phone if you'd like."

"Nope," Steve said proudly, opening up his contacts. "This I know how to do."

This earned a laugh from Lola. They exchanged numbers before Steve said his goodbye and headed off down the street, disappearing beneath the street lamps.