CHAPTER 712: THE INFINITE EVENT (PART 28)

"...I've reviewed your physical examination report, and all the physiological data seems to be in order. You mentioned that you've been experiencing some headaches recently; this could be due to mental stress. Have you encountered any troubles lately?"

Holding a medical report, Schiller pushed up his glasses and inquired of Steve, who appeared somewhat restrained while seated in the chair of the psychological clinic. Resting his elbows on the desktop, Steve replied, "Yes, I have been a bit stressed, it's just that..."

Seeing Steve hesitate, Schiller chuckled and suggested, "Let me guess, at S.H.I.E.L.D., you must have met a beautiful female agent, and then the two of you..."

"No, that's not it," Steve immediately denied, explaining, "We've only met once at the coffee shop, and it hasn't even been a week. We can't really say that it's anything like that..."

"Do you know? From the moment you walked in, I suspected that our renowned Captain America might have fallen in love," Schiller commented as he set aside the medical report. Steve rubbed his hands together and asked, "Is it that obvious?"

"Today, your shave is exceptionally clean, and instead of wearing that somewhat outdated motorcycle jacket, you've opted for a rather fashionable trench coat. Even your hair seems to have been tended to..." Schiller listed Steve's changes one by one. Steve, touching the side of his face, seemed slightly embarrassed.

"Embracing a new life always brings a bit of nervousness and anxiety, and considering your previous anxiety disorder hasn't fully healed, it's normal to have some physical manifestations. If the pain becomes severe, you could take some pain relief medication."

"No, it's just an occasional mild soreness that goes away after a few minutes. By the way, how is my anxiety disorder doing?" Steve asked with concern. He added, "If I'm still mentally ill, it might be better to not get involved with her..."

"Your understanding is decades old; not all mental illnesses lead to aggressiveness. Anxiety disorder is not uncommon, and besides, you're nearly recovered. After your final check-up next week, if all is well, you can be declared fully recovered," Schiller said with a smile.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief, stood up from his seat, and thanked the doctor, "Thank you, doctor. I really wouldn't know what to do without you... By the way, I'm moving out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. dormitory. Once I'm settled in, I'll invite you over..."

"Don't worry, I'll await your invitation," Schiller responded as he saw Steve out the door.

Leaving Arkham Sanatorium, Steve stretched lazily, feeling much lighter all over.

Even for a super soldier, moving houses was somewhat tiring, but fortunately, the work was nearing its end. Today's packing would almost finish the job.

With that thought, Steve quickened his pace, planning to complete the moving process today so that maybe tomorrow, he could invite the female agent out for a meal.

Soon, he returned to the S.H.I.E.L.D. dormitory. After packing the last large box, he carried it outside, where he bumped into Schiller. Steve managed to free a hand to wave at him, and Schiller nodded in return as they passed by each other.

Following the corridor to the end, Steve took the elevator. Just as he was about to press the button for the ground floor, another figure entered.

"Oh, Dr. Schiller, you're going down too? Did you forget something?" Steve asked.

"No, I'm heading back to the Sanatorium. There's a patient waiting for me. Which floor do you need?"

"The ground floor, thanks."

Schiller pressed the button for Steve, but quickly, Steve sensed something was off. "Back to the Sanatorium? But didn't you just come from there?"

As the elevator reached the ground floor and the doors opened, Schiller stepped out first. Steve, puzzled, shook his head and carried the box out to the parking lot where he found Coulson.

"Hey, Captain, good afternoon. Come on, put it in the trunk, I'll give you a ride," Coulson greeted Steve, taking the box and placing it in the trunk.

After getting into the car, Steve, still perplexed, asked, "Did you see Dr. Schiller just now? Why is he running back and forth between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Sanatorium?"

"Ah, that... I've been out on fieldwork quite a bit lately, you should ask Natasha," Coulson replied with a drawn-out tone.

Even after getting out of the car, Steve couldn't understand why Coulson's attitude seemed strange.

But soon, the joy of moving into a new home washed away the confusion. Carrying the box, Steve hurried into the elevator and reached his new place. After arranging his belongings, he found the time and decided to contact Natasha.

But before he could dial the number, his phone rang, and the screen showed an unknown caller.

Steve answered the call, and a deep voice came through the receiver, "Captain Rogers? There's something you should know about Dr. Schiller..."

The voice was somewhat familiar, but Steve couldn't quite place it. He tensed up instinctively, "Who is this?"

Before he could get an answer, the call abruptly ended. Holding the phone in silence, Steve's brow furrowed deeply, feeling that things were about to become complicated again.

In the morning, the Schiller he had seen was dressed in the commonly seen white lab coat, but the Schiller that now appeared in the room was clad in a dark-colored suit.

"Good afternoon, Doctor. Do you have an event to attend this evening?" Steve sat down in the chair opposite the desk and jokingly asked.

Unexpectedly, Schiller did not engage in small talk but, holding the medical report, sat at the desk, pushed his glasses up, and said, "Nervous-type migraine. Have you been dealing with Stark again recently? Did he talk to you about the Bucky situation?"

Steve froze in his seat, while Schiller continued with an impassive face, "How long do you all plan to dwell on this matter? If everyone in the world were to develop such a complex triangle of relationships, those so-called psychologists who thrive on deception and manipulation would all make a fortune."

After speaking, he tossed the medical report on the desk, looked into Steve's eyes, and said, "I would suggest you be admitted for a while, but not for treatment. It's to keep you from engaging in those meaningless social activities, including seeking out Tony Stark and then having pointless ethical disputes with him."

"I..." Steve was momentarily at a loss for words. He had indeed had a recent argument with Stark, which made him quite angry, but he hadn't realized that his migraines could be related to it.

"I think... there's no need for that, Doctor... I still have things to handle, my house move isn't complete yet, I’ll be leaving now." Steve offered a nervous smile, stood up, and then turned to leave the room.

After leaving the room, he took a deep breath, not understanding why, but the encounter with Schiller had felt incredibly pressuring. Was it because of an insufficient rest at noon? How had Dr. Schiller's presence become so daunting?

Leaving the hospital, Steve hailed a cab back to his apartment. He had just settled on the sofa when his mobile phone rang again.

"Hello? Oh, Dr. Schiller, a follow-up? But I just had two check-ups? Really? ...Alright, I'll come by again."

After hanging up, Steve stood scratching his head, looking out at the dusky sky through his window.

It was already twilight, the warm light pouring into his new apartment felt cozy, yet Steve had spent less than ten minutes there that entire day, with the rest of it spent in transit.

He sighed but chose to head out again, hailing another cab to Arkham Sanatorium. To his surprise, he ran into Stark at the entrance.

The two were still in a cold war, neither acknowledging the other. Stark snorted and briskly entered the elevator, then extended a finger and forcefully pressed the door close button.

Locked out of the elevator, Steve shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, making a face at Stark inside the elevator as if to say how childish he was.

After Stark went up, Steve took the stairs to the second floor, only to find the office closed.

Inquiring with a nurse, he learned that Schiller had returned to a room on the third floor, prompting Steve to ascend another level. Sure enough, he found Schiller in the clinic on the third floor.

Schiller had changed into casual sportswear, looking as though he was about to finish his shift. And maybe it was Steve's imagination, but Schiller seemed younger.

Before Steve could speak, Schiller holding the medical report said, "Mr. Rogers, there's nothing of concern in your report except for the brainwaves section. Why didn't you undergo this test?"

"Uh... the machine seemed unable to detect my brainwaves, I don't know why, so the examination doctor left it blank..."

"No matter, you can try the machine here. Oh, it's a bit late now; the nurse responsible for the examination has already left for the day. Come back tomorrow morning," Schiller advised.

"Other than that, there are no issues. For the nervous-type migraine, you can take common over-the-counter pain medication, but given your unique constitution, the dosage might need recalculating."

"Let's see..." Schiller perused the report's data, writing something with a pen, and instructed, "Take this prescription, get the medication downstairs, and use the dosage I've indicated. If the pain worsens, come back to me. If you experience dizziness or nausea, you can reduce the dosage accordingly..."

Steve opened his mouth to speak but noticed that Schiller's tone was softer than before. Perhaps he had taken a nap in the afternoon, which improved his mood?

Moreover, Steve knew that Schiller generally didn't suggest medication to patients, preferring the use of gentle psychological therapies, unless the physiological symptoms were severe. Like the time when Steve's anxiety was at its worst, Schiller had prescribed him only a course of medication.

Could it be that the formidable psychologist's treatment style was so unpredictable? Or was it something else?

Steve pondered these thoughts as he accepted the prescription, then said, "Thank you, Doctor. I'll see you tomorrow morning for the brainwave examination."

"Good night," Schiller said simply, and Steve left the clinic.