Old Soul (Captain America/Steve Rogers)

6

I bolted upright in bed, a scream wilting in my throat. An unrelenting sweat poured down my face, and my sheets were damp with it. I was breathing heavy, looking around wildly. Then, I hear soft hushes, and a comforting hand on my arm. 

"Steve?" I squeak, breathless.

"Yeah," he replies in the dark. "It's just me."

"What are you doing here?" I ask, blinking as I adjust my eyes. I could vaguely see his silhouette against the moonlight streaming in from my broken window..

"I heard you screaming," he says. He shifts a little closer, and I could see him more fully. He still wore the clothes he had on at the headquarters, even though it had to of been past midnight. "What happened?"

I sigh, falling back against my pillows. "Just a bad dream," I mutter. My head spun, which tends to happen when I wake up some mornings. When I jolt myself awake out of a travel abruptly, I often make myself dizzy. Except this time, there was no travel. It was just a plain dream, which I haven't had since I was little.

"When were you this time?" he asks. I noticed his substitution of 'when' instead of 'where'. I would've smiled if I wasn't so shaken up from my dream.

I shake my head. "No time travel. Just a dream."

Steve picks up the bottle of pills on my bedside table. "I guess these are working then."

"Yeah," I say. "But not in the way I had hoped." I just wanted sleep. Blackout, dreamless sleep. Was that too much to ask for?

"What was the dream about?" Steve asks. He casually moves to perch on the edge of my bed. Instinctively, I shrink away from him. He doesn't seem to notice, though.

I shrug, looking down at my hands. "Just a fear that I never realized was there," I say slowly. "I'm just getting this constant feeling that maybe I'm going to screw everything up. Maybe I'm going to change something in the past that will change everything."

I pause for a second, my voice cracking. But when I continue, the sound is still there. "What if I mess everything up? What if I travel back without being able to control it and interfere with my parents? I never would've been born."

I get an awful feeling in my throat like I'm about to cry. And before I know it, a tear is rolling down my face. "What if I just slowly start to disappear?"

They start falling more frequently, and Steve leans forward, concern in his eyes.

"You're not going to disappear," he tells me, dusting a tear off of my cheek. "Not if I have anything to do about it."

I shake my head, too caught up in my head to realize the meaning behind his words. "But you don't," I say. "Time travel is all me. I can only rely on myself to not screw everything up, and I don't know if I can."

It used to be so much simpler before I learned that I had super powers. Before, I didn't think my dreams meant anything. I could do whatever I want and say whatever I want in that era before I woke up.

But, I have to admit, it wasn't like I wasn't at least suspicious about my abilities. One day in high school, I was in on of my computer elective classes, and my teacher randomly stated that computer software has been around since 1924. I was certain that it had been around since 1948, which started the early days of software. I knew my stuff, and I knew that something was fishy.

Maybe my teacher just made a mistake, I told myself. Maybe he simply forgot. But then, I remembered how in my dream the night before, I had gone to the 20's. And I had talked freely about everything to know concerning computer software.

After that, I was sure to be more careful about what I did in my travels. I would act like I was from that time and speak the way the other people spoke. Once I did that, nothing like the software incident had ever occurred again, so I never thought about it again.

Until now, when I learned that my actions really did have consequences because I really was time traveling.

"I do," Steve says. "I am positive you can. You will control it. I have faith."

I look up at him, seeing sincerity in his blue eyes. And he's looking back into my eyes, his expression soft. And before I know it, we are slowly leaning in towards each other, and I can't stop it. Inside, I am yelling at myself to stop. I barely knew Steve. I can't kiss someone I just met. And we were in my bedroom--I became very aware of that fact.

When our lips are only centimeters away, I start to listen to myself. I freeze, stopping myself from closing the gap between us. I pull away, exhaling, and Steve does the same.

We sit in that position for only a few seconds before Steve pulls away completely, a small look of hurt and confusion in his eyes. I can't help but wince.

"You, uh, should get some sleep," Steve says, standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I don't say anything, just watch helplessly as he leaves. The life and purpose in his steps and posture in his back that are usually there are no longer found.

As soon as he's gone, I fall back against my bed pillows and run my fingers through my hair. "Stupid, stupid," I mutter, shaking my head. My head, which I normally trust, was satisfied. But my heart yearned for the touch of his lips, and it cried out now that I just teased it.

But inside, I knew I did the right thing. Or did I? I questioned myself. Shaking my head, I roll over in bed, closing my eyes as my conflicting emotions continue to fight their internal battle.