Sweet and Clear

“Dr. Richards?” a rough voice said from the doorway of the psychiatrist’s office. The young woman was seated at her desk, scrawling notes in a patient’s file. The voice broke her from the work in front of her as she looked up to see a man standing at her door. He was short, official, and wore a fitted suit. The man was caucasian with a receding hairline, and a friendly smile. She stood, taking off her reading glasses and tucking a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear.

“Hello?” the woman said in a confused and cautious tone. Although she was a doctor, she usually didn’t have people barging into her office. She contemplated the idea that this was a patient that could be lost, but he looked business and had a certain confidence to him that told her otherwise. She couldn’t see anything wrong with him, or sense anything.

“Your assistant let me in.” he replied, flashing a visitor’s badge. Her assistant, Laura, wasn’t a dumb girl. Apparently, this man had important business in Dr. Richard’s office. She stepped up to him, her heels making her a couple inches taller than him. She extended a hand to him, staying professional, although she was extremely confused.

“Dr. Georgia Richards.” she greeted. He accepted her handshake, shaking it strongly.

“Phil Coulson.” he replied. She gestured towards the chair in front of her desk and she went to sit down herself. He defied her, standing instead. Georgia learned that you can learn a lot about a person by their body language, and Mr. Coulson was no different. Georgia gathered that he was either arrogant or extremely important by his stubbornness.

“How can I help you, Mr. Coulson?”

“Dr. Richards, I have a special case for you.” he said, slapping a folder down on her desk.

“All of my cases are special.” she replied with a smile. She tried to give her patients all of her attention when she was treating them. They were all individual cases and they deserved to be treated as more than just another patient. She grabbed the folder and put on her glasses.

“Steve Rogers,” the woman read aloud. Once she heard the name, something in her brain clicked. She opened the file and saw the colors of her nation’s flag plastered all over the paper; however, this was no ordinary flag. She couldn’t believe what she was holding. The mere contents of the folder was hard to wrap her mind around. She was speechless at the thought that she was considered for such an amazing case.

“But he’s-” she began, but stopped. She raised a shaky hand to her glasses and removed them.

“He was found frozen in the Arctic circle, where he was asleep for nearly 70 years.” Coulson informed her.

“I-” she gasped for air. It became increasingly harder for it to breathe in her office. She spun around and opened the window of her New York City office, hoping to vent out the clouds in her lungs. The city air was comforting to her and helped her to deal with the fact that she was just offered the chance to be Captain America’s doctor.

---

Phil Coulson had ordered a fellow agent, Nick Fury, to debrief her on the facts she needed to know about Steve. He wasn’t very fond of Georgia, although she wasn’t sure why. Maybe he just detested the human race in general.

“Do you think he’s ready for me?” Georgia asked, nerves getting the better of her. Maria Hill, Nick Fury’s colleague, was chauffeuring Georgia and Fury to Steve Rogers’ apartment. Nick Fury glanced towards her with his one good eye. In that glance, she saw irritation, yet obligation to answer her.

“We didn’t tell him that you were coming.” he answered. Her brow furrowed. Why would Fury not warn an unpredictable, potentially harmful man about a surprise doctor stopping in for a chat every week? Having been asleep for nearly 70 years, there was no telling how this man would react. From what Georgia had heard, Captain America was a patriotic icon and nobody had a word to say bad about him. In the file, there were reports saying that he was “honest”, “trustworthy”, “all-American”, “a good guy”, “sweet”, “kind”, and some went as far to say that “they would trust him with their life”. However, as a young female doctor who was ordered to diagnose and/or treat someone coping with a copious amount of change, she was nervous of how he would react.

“I believe that was an unwise decision.” she admitted. Fury just looked at her with a blank expression, then turned away. Since Georgia had been admitted as the Captain’s doctor, she had learned very little about Nick Fury. All that she learned was that he worked for a government organization called S.H.I.E.L.D. Georgia at one point had asked what the acronym stood for, but she immediately forgot as soon as the fourth letter was explained. They had papers confirming that it was a legitimate branch of the government and that was good enough for her. Georgia felt that working with a branch of the government would give her a confidence boost and more experience for future patients.

“This is your stop.” Nick Fury’s colleague, Maria Hill, said as the Jeep rolled to a stop in front of a New York apartment, not far from Georgia’s own. Maria turned to the young doctor in the backseat, flashing Georgia a comforting grin. “Good luck with him. He’s our nation’s pride.”

“Thank you, Maria.” she replied. She looked to Fury for a bit of wisdom.

“Don’t fuck this up.” Fury commanded.

“Okay. Well that’s certainly the best motivational speech I’ve ever received.” Georgia replied sarcastically. “Wait... you’re not coming with me?” No protection with a potentially hostile human wasn’t comforting to her whatsoever.

“Trust me, Dr. Richards. This man has the patriotism of the fourth of July, the loyalty of a soldier, and the manners of... well, let’s just say, nobody has better manners than Steve Rogers. This should be a walk in the park.” he reassured.

“Thanks, I guess.” Georgia laughed and hopped out of the car, briefcase in hand, and walked towards the apartment. She looked for his name and rang the button. Anticipation coursed through her body until a buzz came in response.

“...hello?” an energetic, yet confused voice answered. Georgia reached out and held down the call button to respond.

“Hello. I am Dr. Georgia Richards. I was wondering if you had a couple minutes to talk.” she spoke.

“If you don’t mind me asking, ma’am, what about?” he asked, in a very concise voice. She racked her brain for a creative way to get him to let her inside his apartment.

“A certain Arctic Circle that a certain Captain was frozen in for a certain amount of time.” she joked.

“Do you work with the government, ma’am?”

“You could say that.” she bended the truth.

“You are welcome to my apartment on the third floor, fourth door to the right, number 314.” he explained in thorough detail. The door buzzed and Georgia couldn’t help but chuckle at the promptness of the 1940s native.

She decided to walk up the stairs of the apartment complex, figuring a nice walk would help calm her down and the last thing she wanted was to get stuck in an elevator. As she found the door that read “314”, she forced herself to knock on the door before she could think twice and get nervous. She quickly straightened her necklace and smoothed out her skirt before he opened the door. Her green eyes glanced up at his face and a smile stretched onto hers. Georgia couldn’t deny that he was handsome. He had creamy white skin and neatly cut blonde hair. His bright blue eyes scanned over her face.

“Hello, Dr. Richards.” he greeted, extending a hand that he had just unwrapped athletic wrap from.

“Steve Rogers.” she nodded, accepting his hand. She gave him a firm, confident handshake that seemed to startle him. He must not have been used to women in power. After all, it was the 1940s when he last walked the planet.

“I apologize that I’m not dressed well, I was boxing.” he said. Georgia examined his outfit to see pressed khakis and a plain white shirt, tucked in with a belt. In America’s standards today, that could be considered “Sunday clothes”. “Do you mind if I change?” He looked to her with modesty and sincerely wanted her opinion. It somewhat startled her that the man was so polite. Dealing with mainly belligerent addicts, hostile serial killers, or people with serious mental illnesses all day, it shocked her to be treated so well. Maybe the records were correct about Steve Rogers. He couldn’t be that bad of a man if he asked a visitor permission to change in his own apartment.

“Uh... sure. If it makes you more comfortable.” she replied. He left the room and went into an adjacent one, shutting and locking the door behind him. Georgia took the time to examine the room she was in. The walls were plain, the floor was spotless, and the only furniture in the room, besides a bench next to one of the several windows that adorned the wall, was a single boxing bag, hanging from the very center of the ceiling on a steel chain. She turned to see that there was a neat pile of brand new boxing bags tucked away into the corner. Surely one man couldn’t go through enough bags that he needs so many at the ready. Georgia set down her suitcase and surveyed the bag. Out of curiosity, the young doctor took a light hearted swing at it, instantly wishing she hadn’t. The bag didn’t move and the chain barely shook, however, her hand felt like it was about to shatter into a million pieces.

“Motherf-” she muttered under her breath, shaking her hand. However, the door opened to the room Steve was in and she immediately put on a poker face. He walked out of the room with a light green button-down shirt that was tucked into brown slacks.

“So, Dr. Richards. Why are you here?” he asked. His expression immediately changed. “Not that I don’t mind the company but I’ve never met you before and I-” He looked really nervous, like he hadn’t talked to a woman in a while.

“It’s okay. I knew what you meant.” she interrupted, before he had a hernia. She absentmindedly rubbed at her hand.

“Would you like to have a seat?” he asked. Georgia nodded, picking up her briefcase. “Sorry that I don’t have much furniture, but we can talk in the kitchen.” They walked towards the kitchen that was separated by a doorway. Once they approached the table, he pulled out a chair and stood behind it. Georgia stared at him for a solid five seconds before she realized that he was pulling out that chair for her.

“Oh!” she stammered out like an idiot. She stepped over to the chair and sat down as he tucked it under the table for her. “Thank you. You are a very chivalrous man.” She smiled. Complimenting a patient usually always started off the meeting in a better mood. Most of Georgia’s patients didn’t accept that they actually needed help and she assumed that the Captain was no different. This helped them grow a little more comfortable with her.

“Thank you, ma’am.” he replied as he sat. “I believe my mother raised me well.” Georgia laid her briefcase on the table and linked her fingers together, placing them in her lap.

“I’m not sure how I should start this off...” she admitted. She took a deep breath.

“Start off what?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Alright, I’m going to just jump into things.” she admitted. “I’m Dr. Georgia Richards. I’m a psychiatrist. I have been hired by a government department to access your competency and to help you cope with your current situation, such as loss of family and friends.” She figured it was best to just blab it all out, clearly and quickly, so she could get it off her chest. His brows furrowed.

“Do you work with Nick Fury?” he immediately asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I work for him. I have been hired by S.H.I.E.L.D. to help you.” Georgia explained, crossing her legs. She opened up her suitcase and pulled out her authorization paperwork, which he glanced over.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t think that I need any mental help.” he confessed.

“I specialize in the kind of psychiatrist work that feels natural. I’m not going to make you look at one Rorschach test. And I promise that if I make you uncomfortable or make you feel like a crazy person, we can stop.” the doctor proposed. “How does that sound?” Georgia saw the cogs moving in his head, contemplating if it was a good idea.

“I suppose that it couldn’t hurt.” he responded after several seconds of thinking. Georgia clapped her hands in excitement.

“Cool! And I’ve also been assigned to fill you in on some historical events and pop culture that may come up in conversation.” she said. His face sunk, at the sound of him needing to learn. Georgia laughed and his expression.

“It’s like I’m back in school.” he muttered. Georgia pulled out the paperwork for the day, separating her psychology assessment papers from the history papers.

“But I’m way better than any teacher you’ve ever had.” she promised with a wink. She grabbed the stack of historical papers and put on her reading glasses. “Okay. So, today we’re going to skim through the ‘40s and hop right into the ‘50s and ‘60s.”

“We’re going to need some caffeine. Care for a Coca-Cola?” he asked, standing up.

“I’d love one.” Georgia answered. He went into his fridge and pulled out two glass bottles of Cola, screwing off the tops. The government, who bought this apartment for him, was trying to make him feel at home, with a “vintage” looking fridge and ‘40s themed furniture. He handed her one and sat back down. “Thank you.”

“I love Coca-cola.” he stated as they both took a refreshing sip. Georgia chuckled.

“Coca-cola? You’re more patriotic than John Mellencamp and Bruce Springsteen combined.” she laughed, taking another sip. He took one too and looked up at her, confused.

“Who?”