Old Soul (Captain America/Steve Rogers)

31

When I regained consciousness, the first thing I felt was a cold, wetness on my forehead, almost like a wash cloth. There was a rich scent in the air, one often associated with death or blood.

I kept my eyes closed, afraid of what I would see when I opened them.

I heard voices as well, so I just listened to them. "We'll be there soon," I hear a voice say, familiar but not recognizable.

"How's she doing?" a different voice asked, and I tensed as I realized that they were talking about me. I will still hesitant to move.

But then I heard a different voice, the voice. The one that always soothes me and reassures me I'm alright, no matter what the circumstances are. "I can't tell. She's still bleeding."

His voice came from directly above my head, making me realize that my head was propped up on his legs. As he dragged the cloth across my forehead another time, I cracked my eyes open, seeing his head peering over me.

"You're awake," he exclaims, his eyes smiling like crazy in relief but his mouth in a little grin of concern.

I force my lips into a smile, even though they are cracked and my face feels hurt and swollen. God, I think, but it's only a small, distant thought. I must look terrible.

But Steve was looking at me as if I were the only girl in the world, and that's what pushed the thought away.

"I'm awake," I confirm, my voice small and weak.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, wincing as he gazes over my wounds.

I start to shake my head, but the motion makes me nauseous. So I just lie and say, "no."

"Don't say that," he says, calling my bluff. "You look horrible."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks."

Steve pales, his eyes widening. "No-no. I-I mean your wounds. Your wounds look bad. Yo-You look-"

I chuckle lightly. "You have know clue about women, do you?"

Steve smiles lightly, like he was reminiscing about some inside joke. "No," he says, grinning to himself with a small shake of his head. "I really don't."

We just sat after that, my head in his lap while he played with my long, usually light blonde hair. But now that it was covered in dirt, grime, and blood, it was more of a golden shade.

"When this all blows over," Steve says, bending over to put a light and gentle kiss on my forehead. "I'd like to take you out. On a real date. It's only now that I realize I really don't know anything about you."

"I can say the same to you," I say, slightly hesitant. I've always been hesitant to ask Steve about his past, afraid that it would bring too many painful memories to the surface. But know that Bucky is back, and he seems to be thrilled about that, I hope he'd feel more comfortable with it.

He didn't seem to take anything of my comment, or if he did, he didn't care. "It feels like I've known you forever. Like you were with me back in the 1900's."

At this note, I pale. A sudden worry rushes into my mind, my bones going rigid. What if he saw me? I ask myself. Time travel is too messy. He might've seen me when I was there.

But I calmed down, convincing myself that it was only a mere observation. So I just nod,  Steve's deep voice rattling me pleasantly to the core, luring me asleep.

"How's the others?" I ask, closing my eyes lightly.

"Good," Steve answers. "Everyone's fine. No bad injuries. But Tony did scrape up his suit pretty bad. Clint's flying the hellicarrier, Wanda's sitting shotgun, Natasha is sitting with Bruce and Buck, and the rest flew back." He nodded over to where more voices were coming from.