You were at a conference with so many world leaders.

You were there with the president, after all, you were an agent of SHIELD. You were there in case anything happened. You were incredibly capable, despite not even being thirty yet.

T'Challa was doing a speech or something, you weren't paying attention.

Some world leader shouted. "EVERYBODY, GET DOWN!"

Then an explosion happened.

Fuck.

How did you not notice that?

People were running and scrambling to get somewhere safe.

The president was fine, but that wasn't what you were worried about.

You were worried about making sure everyone got out. So when you noticed T'challa, the King of Wakanda just standing there. Barely able to breathe, not just from the dust in the air but also from the gripping and nauseating fear because...

Oh bast, It's happening again it's all happening again.

So he's covered in dust, and trembling while everyone is running to get out of the building, but he can't move because this is just like the last time except he's frozen and terrified that he'll look around and find someone else he loves, dead.

Your right by him but he can't hear anything, he's too busy panicking and there's the ringing noise he's hearing and—

"Sir? You need to get out of here!" You grab his arm despite knowing you probably shouldn't. No answer.

You may not have had PTSD but your coworkers did, you knew the signs.

You knew he was barely even there, but instead at the UN conference in Vienna weeping over his fathers dead body.

"No, no, no..." He's mutters softly to himself in his thick Wakandan accent, starting to cry.

The room was on fire, you had less than five minutes to get out of the room before you wouldn't be able to breathe because of the smoke and dust. You had to get him out of here, you didn't give a shit about you.