My time with Steve at the Smithsonian was shorter than any previous interactions with him. After he kissed me, I stepped back abruptly, uncomfortably. Out of his grasp, barely a step away, I fell through a portal in the floor.
I dropped through the ceiling of a bedroom. I hit a bed with a rough grunt. I whimpered into the air, then fell still. I sprawled across the mattress. To rest, after everything, meant the world to my aching body.
Time, however, was not on my side. Two minutes after I started resting, the door cracked open slowly. It closed fast. I heard a sigh of relief.
I tilted my head back. I noticed Steve resting his head against the door, but, more importantly, I noticed that I wasn't in any bedroom. I was in my own bedroom. I still was not in my time; I could tell that much by Steve's uniform.
I sighed, "Hey, Steve," then placed a pillow over my face.
Steve continued to stand. "Oh. Angel. I, uh, wasn't expecting you..."
"Are you ever?" I asked honestly.
Steve scoffed in agreement.
"So, you're in the Ultron scandal uniform. I'm guessing we're towards the end of it, if you're wearing it in the Tower. Right?"
"Right," said Steve hurriedly. "Look, Angel, it's been two years since we... Since I..."
"You got with Clara, I know, I know," I said.
Steve didn't answer, entirely due to being unsure of what to say. I heard him pull the chair at my desk. He took a seat. His fingers tapped against the back of it.
"Can I ask you a question?" he asked timidly.
"I probably can't answer it," I said honestly.
"Do Clara and I make it?"
I stayed quiet.
"In the '40s, Clara was my dream. She was everything I wished for in a woman, and she doesn't know it, but she reminds me of my home. She is my home, now. She's perfect for me, who I turned out to be," admitted Steve. "But ever since I pursued her, I still don't feel good about it. I don't feel good enough for her."
I rolled my eyes. "Come on. You're the world to her, can't you see that?"
"Sometimes, in the way she looks at me," he agreed. "That's pure. She sees me, and only me. Me? I can't say the same. Every once in a while, I still think you and I can find a way to work."
"Steve, stop," I said strongly.
"I'm not supposed to. If anyone knows that, it's me. Angel, you were the light in my life, before Clara came around. Any time I was drowning in darkness, you appeared. How am I supposed to feel about you?" he said.
I groaned. "God, Steve, I don't know! I can't answer that. I don't have answers for you. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that, other than you need to stop with the thoughts of you and I."
Steve waited for my frustrated breathing to settle before he decided to change the topic. "Have you learned anything?"
"What?"
"From what my mother used to say, angels are supposed to guide people, teach them, but they're also supposed to learn something from the experience themselves. So, have you learned anything?"
I chuckled sadly. "I learned that I have no control over my powers. I discovered I'm an imbecile to time itself. All I asked was to be with the love of my life again. I didn't ask to be subjected to a life where every damn decision I make can ruin everything I come from, or--"
"Angel!" gasped Steve. "What's happening to your hands?"
I raised the pillow a couple inches from my face. My skin was paling significantly, causing the feeling in my hands to be lost. It spread throughout my arms, down to my chest, to all of my body.
"What's happening to you?" asked Steve worriedly.
I sat up. I kept my head down, allowing my hair to cover my face. I watched the skin on my body fade lighter and lighter. With every second passing, feeling in my body was lost. I felt spacious, as if I was floating.
"Angel?!" asked Steve.
"I believe our time together has come to an end, Steve Rogers," I said shakily, blinking back my joyous tears. "I'm finally going home..."