Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Evenson ducked behind the counter where he usually kept his things and rummaged around until he unearthed a dusty bottle of whiskey.

He absolutely wasn’t bringing it out because serving plain water to Captain America felt embarrassing.

The fact that the bottle would expire by the end of the month was purely coincidental.

He poured a modest measure into two glasses and slid one across the counter.

"So, Captain," Evenson said, settling into his chair. "Why me? Why did you choose me for this little therapy session?"

S.H.I.E.L.D. had no shortage of psychologists. Doctors, professors, military psychiatrists, specialists with credentials stacked higher than skyscrapers. Evenson was a Special Affairs Consultant, not a therapist. He had no medical degree, no counseling certification, and certainly no experience treating trauma professionally.

Nick Fury wasn’t the sort of man who made that kind of mistake.

"I actually turned down every psychologist they recommended," Steve replied.

He took a cautious sip.

The whiskey hit his tongue.

His face immediately twisted in regret.

"...This reminds me of a bottle Bucky used to hide during the war."

He took another moment before adding,

"Actually... I think this one’s worse."

A smile tugged at Evenson’s lips.

Steve continued, "Bucky was my best friend. He..."

"I know who he was."

Evenson gently interrupted.

"When I was a kid, the orphanage took us on a field trip to the Captain America Museum. They had an entire exhibit about him."

Steve looked up.

"You grew up in an orphanage?"

"I did."

The answer was calm and matter-of-fact.

Steve immediately realized he’d wandered into personal territory.

"...I’m sorry."

"It’s fine."

Evenson shrugged.

"I’ve never considered it something to be ashamed of."

He gestured toward Steve’s untouched whiskey.

"Let’s stay on topic."

Steve nodded gratefully.

"I never liked the idea of psychological counseling."

"Most people don’t."

Evenson instinctively picked up his own glass, only for the smell to reach him before the whiskey did.

His expression stiffened for the briefest instant.

Without missing a beat, he casually set the drink back down.

"It feels like someone is pointing at your head and saying, ’Congratulations. Something’s wrong with your brain.’"

Steve laughed quietly.

"Exactly."

"But it was mandatory."

He reached for the whiskey again, remembered how awful it tasted, and quietly abandoned the attempt.

"If I refused a psychological evaluation, S.H.I.E.L.D. would’ve kept me under observation even longer."

"So I reluctantly decided to pick someone."

He looked at Evenson.

"Then I saw your name."

"My name..."

Evenson’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

Nick Fury had undoubtedly predicted Steve’s resistance to therapy.

And somehow, among a list of licensed psychologists, Evenson Richter’s name had mysteriously appeared.

That wasn’t an administrative error.

It was Fury arranging an introduction.

Future teammates getting acquainted before they ever fought side by side.

A very Nick Fury solution.

"I’m honored," Evenson said with a grin. "Captain America choosing me over an entire department of doctors."

Steve shook his head.

"It wasn’t random."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. grew out of the Strategic Scientific Reserve."

"You were the first superpowered individual to work with the organization after my time."

"I wanted to see what kind of person you really were."

Evenson raised a finger.

"Small correction."

"I’m hardly the only extraordinary person working for S.H.I.E.L.D."

He tilted his head toward the window.

"If you look carefully, you can even see Stark Tower from here."

"Tony Stark works with them too."

"You know who he is."

"Howard Stark’s son."

Steve glanced toward the skyline.

"I do."

"But he’s different."

"The remarkable part isn’t Tony himself."

"It’s the armor."

He studied Stark Tower for another second before adding with complete sincerity,

"And for the record..."

"...that building is unbelievably ugly."

Evenson blinked.

"I can’t say I understand architecture well enough to argue."

He scratched his cheek.

"Although putting your own name on top of a skyscraper does seem a little embarrassing."

"I don’t think I could ever do that."

The shop sign outside quietly disagreed.

Steve smiled in genuine agreement.

"I’ve read your mission reports."

His expression slowly became thoughtful.

"I kept thinking..."

"...if someone like you had existed back then..."

Evenson looked pleasantly surprised.

Internally, however, his suspicions were confirmed.

This conversation had never been solely about psychological evaluation.

Fury had clearly made sure Steve was briefed on his capabilities.

Steve’s eyes drifted somewhere far away.

"HYDRA was a brutal enemy."

"People died."

"More often than the history books like to admit."

"They always tell the stories where Captain America saves everyone."

He shook his head.

"That wasn’t reality."

"I watched good soldiers die."

"I couldn’t save all of them."

His voice became quieter.

"So I keep wondering..."

"If there had been more people like us..."

"...would things have turned out differently?"

"They might have."

Evenson answered without hesitation.

Then he smirked.

"Although in that version of history, I probably would’ve ended up Director of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Nick Fury would’ve needed another career."

Steve chuckled.

"But then again..."

Evenson pointed at his own face.

"Looking like this, maybe I would’ve joined the Third Reich instead."

"With my abilities, they’d have rolled out the red carpet."

"I might’ve even become Hitler’s favorite occult consultant."

He let the joke hang for exactly one beat before waving it away.

"Thankfully, hypothetical history isn’t history."

His tone became more serious.

"Anyway."

"You came here for an evaluation."

"We might as well do it properly."

Steve straightened in his chair.

"I’m ready."

"You slept for sixty years."

"I assume Fury has already spent days bringing you up to speed on everything you missed."

Steve nodded.

"So here’s my question."

Evenson leaned forward.

"When you look at the world as it exists today..."

"...what do you think?"

Steve considered it for a long time before answering.

"I think..."

"...the world has become more frightening."

"How so?"

"When I enlisted," Steve said slowly, "I believed hand grenades were the deadliest weapons mankind had ever created."

"They could wipe out an entire squad."

"Then I encountered HYDRA’s weapons powered by the Tesseract."

"I thought humanity had reached the absolute limit of destructive power."

A bitter smile crossed his face.

"But only a year after I disappeared..."

"...people created something even worse."

"And now..."

"...humanity possesses enough firepower to destroy the entire planet."

Silence settled between them.

"My dream back then..."

Steve stared into the untouched whiskey.

"...was to end war."

"To help create a peaceful world."

He looked up at Evenson.

"But now I keep asking myself..."

"...did anything I did actually matter?"

Evenson didn’t rush to reassure him.

He didn’t recite comforting platitudes about the lives Steve had saved or the victories he’d won.

Instead, he answered honestly.

"War is one of civilization’s greatest tragedies."

"It leaves scars on everyone it touches."

"But hardship also forces people to grow."

"And overcoming it makes humanity stronger."

He met Steve’s eyes.

"What you did wasn’t erase suffering."

"It was help people endure it."

"You showed them that even in humanity’s darkest hour, someone could stand up and fight."

He smiled.

"If that isn’t meaningful..."

"...I’m not sure what is."

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