Old Soul (Captain America/Steve Rogers)

10

<Narrator's Pov>

"Steve," Peggy's strained, frail voice says as Steve takes a seat next to her bed. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," Steve says, taking her small, fragile hand. "It's me."

"It's been so long," she says, her voice cracking and tears welling up in her aged eyes. Steve had to hold his breath to keep from breaking down in emotion, as well.

"It has," Steve agrees, swallowing down the feeling in his throat he gets before he cries. "But I'm here now. And I couldn't leave-not when I still owed my best girl and dance."

Peggy shakes her head, her grayed hair falling in front of her wrinkled face. "Steve," she croaks. "That was long ago. I am not going to be dancing anytime soon."

The feeling in Steve's throat gets stronger, and his voice crack when he speaks, "Then perhaps another time."

Peggy smiles sadly. "There is no other time for me."

It was silent for a moment as Steve tries to think of something to say, anything to say.

"But you," Peggy says after a minute. "Have time. Do not waste it in the past."

"Peggy-"

"Steve," Peggy says, growing serious and looking Steve in the eyes. Her worn, British voice speaks in strength, "it's time to move on."

The feeling in Steve's throat was now unbearable, his eyes starting to moisten. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He can't decide what this means; he can't decide whether he's sad that one of the only things he has from the past to hold onto is fading, or if he's glad that he now has a feeling of freedom inside his chest.

Steve is looking at Peggy, the emotion visible in his eyes. The emotion is in hers too, an expression in the worn brown color like one you would use when greeting a long lost friend. But then suddenly, her eyes go blank, her sad smile dropping.

"Steve?" she asks, tears welling up in her eyes the same way they did when he first go here, and then twenty minutes after that, and twenty minutes after that. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," Steve says, putting on the same smile he does at least twice a visit. "It's me."

<Avalie's Pov>

The next morning, I go through my usual routine. Steve appeared to have left earlier, I saw as I exited my apartment. He might've been called in for some emergency.

When I arrive at S.H.I.E.L.D., I am given directions from the receptionist about how to get to Dr. Banner's lab.

I had to admit; I was excited. I was going to learn how to control my powers. Not only would it be good, since Hydra could no longer track me, but it would also be useful. I don't exactly know how it works, but if things go wrong in battle, I can go back and fix it and I can travel to the future to get a heads up. The future thing would surely make me good in combat.

I knock on the door to Dr. Banner's lab, waiting patiently for him to grant me entrance. Once he does, I open the door, walking into his very high-tech laboratory.

"Good morning, Dr. Banner," I greet.

"Agent Daniels," he says, briefly glancing up at her before returning his focus back to the microscope he was studying. "Please, take a seat while I finish up here."

I obediently take a seat at one of the chairs pulled up to a study table as Dr. Banner scribbles some notes onto a note pad. He clicks his pen off, perching on the corner of the table.

"Tell me," he says. "Have you experienced anymore how do you say-dreams?"

"No," I answer. "At least, no since I've been taking the pills."

"Good, good," he mutters, clicking his pen as he writes down a new note. "Now, I have a few ideas on how to control this."

"I'm open to anything," I say, braiding my hands together on the table.

Dr. Banner hops off of the table, walking around to my side. "Well, the hopes around here is that you would be able to share your powers, even stretch them to be able to transport some of our researchers. However, to achieve that we need to focus on making sure you know how to turn it on and off."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" I ask, leaning forward on my forearms.

Dr. Banner pulls up a chair next to me, proving himself very antsy. He didn't sit still. "I need you to fall asleep."

"What?" I ask. I knew what he said, but I was having trouble grasping where this was going.

"You need to slip into unconsciousness," he explains, standing to walk over to a machine in the corner. "And I can monitor and track you with this, so I can figure out why it is you travel the way you do."

"Um," I shift awkwardly in my sleep. "Okay."

"Lay down," he instructs, leading me over to a table like that of one in a doctor's office.

I do as told, uncomfortably inclining my body. As soon as my back touches the table, I am greeted by the feeling of a soft cotton ball which was slightly damp, meant to soften my skin.

Oh no, I think. That can only mean one thing. Needles.

I am right, for a sharp sore pain shots up my arm, a needle inserting my skin.

"Sorry," Dr. Banner says when I jump in surprise. "That was just a relaxer that will put you to sleep."

I nod as he picks up a series of tubes, suction cup-like attachments at the bottoms. He sticks them onto me: two on each arm, each leg, and one on my forehead.

"This will allow me to watch what you are experiencing," he explains as he places the last one on my face. "We will begin whenever you are ready.

I can barely hear what he says, his words blurred out by the sudden dreariness I felt. Before I could respond, or even keep my eyes open long enough to watch him scribble down a note, my eyelids fell heavy and I didn't have the strength, so I let them fall.