The Soldier and His Girl. (Steve Rogers Love Story)

Chapter Twelve: The Unseen Future

The hospital was eerily still, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound breaking the silence as I sat at my desk, diligently charting notes on a patient's file. A new baby boy had arrived at 1:10 am, with only minor complications. A brief episode of shoulder dystocia—lasting no more than a minute—had caused a flutter of anxiety, but thankfully, both mother and baby were safe and sound. As I continued to type, my attention was drawn to my phone, which blinked insistently beside me. A sigh escaped me as I paused, casting a weary glance at the caller ID.

Unknown.

I picked up the phone, cradling it between my ear and shoulder as I resumed my typing. "This is Doctor Johnson. Who's calling?" I asked, trying to keep my tone brisk despite the fatigue I felt.

A familiar, warm chuckle resonated through the phone. "Is that any way to talk to your father?"

The sudden shift in my mood was palpable. I stopped typing and spun my chair away from the computer, suddenly very interested in the pattern of my light blue scrubs. "You called from an unknown number," I said, my confusion evident.

"Yeah, Tony got himself into some trouble and now we're sort of stranded. Don't worry, though. We've got it under control," he assured me, his voice tinged with that calm confidence I found both reassuring and frustrating.

I laughed, imagining the antics Tony Stark must have gotten himself into. "You know, something tells me I don't want to know."

But then I heard a change in my father's tone—a serious note that made my heart sink. "Rogers mentioned you didn't go on the mission with them."

I glanced around the office, desperate to come up with a more convincing excuse than the flimsy one I'd given Nat and Steve earlier. "Yeah, well, I was just busy."

"Busy with what?" His voice took on a softer, yet more insistent edge. "Rogers mentioned the dreams you've been having. Could that be why you didn't join them?"

My eyes rolled as I stood up, beginning to pace the room, a surge of irritation rising within me. "No, Dad, the dreams have nothing to do with it. I've just got a lot on my plate with work. I can't be a hero 24/7 like everyone else."

"Emily, this is serious," he said, his voice firm.

"What's serious?" I snapped back, my frustration bubbling over. "Not going on one mission?"

"No, not the mission. The dreams," he said, his voice laden with concern.

My heart raced as I listened, trying to grasp the weight of his words. "Your mother had similar experiences. She would have these dreams that felt incredibly real, and eventually, they weren't limited to her sleep."

"Wait, you mean she could see things that would happen?" My anxiety spiked as I began to pace faster, my mind racing.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I believe her abilities passed on to you. It's called precognition—the ability to see the future. How it will interact with your current abilities remains to be seen, but these dreams could evolve into something much more potent."

I sank back into my chair, overwhelmed. "Do you think the dreams I've had recently are about future events?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Yes."

My head dropped into my hands, the weight of the recent dream about Tony pressing heavily on me. "But the future isn't fixed, right? It can change depending on choices made?"

"Yes, exactly. What you've seen may come to pass, but if the future changes course, so will the events you've seen."

I looked up, trying to reconcile this new information with the confusion swirling in my mind. "But don't meddle with people's futures. If it's meant to happen, let it unfold."