White tiles. Plain, painstakingly white tiles mirrored what I was feeling. Blank. So far...27 tiles.

My eyes moved across a tile for a split second. Damn...lost count. I internally groaned and began to start over. 1... I had been laying in bed for over three hours.

Bored to death.

I had nothing else to do. No one to talk to. Everyone was asleep for once, but then again, it was two in the morning. It was peaceful in the tower. Quiet as a mouse. The only audible sounds were the whizzes and slurs of the power going through the walls and the soft hum from the air conditioning. Silence rang in my ears and sounded like the buzzing of a bee.

12...

A part of me still worried about Peter. He was in the process of recovery, but it was taking forever. I couldn't imagine the pain he was in, but we had no way around that. It had only been a month, so maybe I was just overreacting. He was on bed rest until he fully recovered and was able to start training again. Peter certainly didn't mind it. He caught up on his favorite shows, started new ones, and spent hours learning new material for his college courses.

On the other hand, I still felt the guilt. It ate at me like a deadly virus, picking constantly at my organs until it consumed all of it. If I would have seen the laser, I could've stopped the bullet before it hit anyone. I could have... I mentally beat myself up.

25...

A light tapping came from the wall.

My eyes shifted to where the sound originated from and my mind left the bored state it had been in. This was new. I waited for a second to see if what I had heard had been real. Steve talking to me in the middle of the night? I didn't even know he was awake.

".... .." Loosely translated: Hi.

Ah, Morse code. How I have missed you so. I used to talk to my mother at night using the code by tapping my pencil against my desk. My father thought I was studying, but my mother and I would have numerous conversations. She's the one that taught me, after all. My mother used to be in the Air Force. What she did, well, I wasn't too sure about that. She never discussed it with us. But, when she came home, she was extremely paranoid. She thought it would be useful under the circumstance if something happened and she told me to stay inside of my room and hide. The people in our house would never know what was going on, and they sure as hell weren't going to find me. It would have come in handy if Stryker hadn't taken us by surprise.

I hesitated with my hand hovering over the wall. I didn't know if this was a great idea. It could wake up Peter, who was sleeping across the hall. I replied. Why are you still awake?

Steve's fingers drummed against the wall. Can't sleep.

"-- . / - --- --- .-.-.-" Me too. Wow. I forgot how long it took to code a simple sentence.

"-.-. .- -. / .-- . / - .- .-.. -.- ..--.." Can we talk?

Oh god. The dreaded 'Can we Talk?'. In any situation, it was a terrible thing. It either meant something good was about to happen, or something entirely excruciating. That was a gigantic difference. But what was it about this time? The fact that we fought while strategizing, or how I literally ripped the metal out of a woman's blood? God, I really hope it wasn't the latter.

"-.-- --- ..- / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / - .... . .-. . ..--.." You still there?

I was ripped out of my thoughts and focused. What he had to say might be important. I put my black framed glasses on and tiptoed out of my room. My finger nail scraped against the white wooden door. "--- .--. . -. / - .... . / -.. --- --- .-." Open the door.

He did as I said and stepped back to let me inside. I walked around his room, finding hardly anything personal. He had plain furniture that was almost retro. An old record player sat in the corner on the dresser. A chair and a bookshelf was placed up against the opposite wall, leaving just enough space for the bed to fit. Framed photographs from World War II and of the Avengers decorated the plain crème colored walls.

"Why can't you sleep?" I questioned as I leaned against his dresser. I ran my hand through my messy hair and ruffled it. The answer might have been the same as mine, but it was always worth asking. Anything to get him talking was enough for me.

His blue eyes searched my tired eyes for any hint as to why I wasn't asleep. A few thoughts made him twitch. "Just a nightmare."

"Nightmare? What about?" War memories? Peggy? His family? It could have been anything, but as far as I could tell, it was really bothering him.

Steve rubbed his forehead and groaned. "My best friend. I lost him during the war." He stopped there and bit his lip. He closed his eyes.

Pure pain. Suffering. Something about that memory seemed to play in his mind over and over from what I could tell. "I'm..."

He cut me off, "No need to be sorry. He's...he's alive. Tried to kill me, actually. Bucky was brainwashed by Hydra and became the..."

This time, I interrupted him in a whisper, "The Winter Soldier...I remember him..." I shook my head in disbelief. That poor man was part of the Captain's past. A lost soldier with no memory of who he was or what he did. A man that was also out of time. "He was quiet. Always took orders. Never cracked a smile or talked to anyone."

"Bucky was completely the opposite. He constantly smiled and tried to find his next date. Certainly the group flirt if you ask me. Great dancer, too. Buck definitely knew his way around the crowd." Steve huffed with a small smile at the memory. "I just ask myself what if I never see him again? What if he's lost forever? Sam is looking for him right now, but what if his mind relapses and he doesn't remember anything?"

The room fell silent. I tapped my fingers against the dresser in thought. What was there to say to that? Something...Anything comforting might sound ridiculous. It was worth a try. "You will find him, Rogers. And when you do, he will remember you. I can promise you that. The brainwashing and freezing process is already weighing on his mind, but he will come around."

Steve nodded and waited a minute before changing the subject. The topic was sensitive for him, so talking about anything else might have been slightly comforting. "I am sorry about what I said when we were planning to invade. I shouldn't have fought with you," he stated as he sat down on the bed.

Steve Rogers apologizing? I should document this moment. Too bad there weren't any witnesses to confirm this ever happened. "It's fine. It's all in the past."

"I'm so used to making plans and having soldiers to follow them. They would trust me like I was their brother. Now...now all I have is my team. We all know how well they take orders..." He chuckled and looked down at the floor. He rubbed his hands together. "I wish I could go back into the past and live my old life. I have a family, the one I've dreamt about. Peggy would be there..." He stopped himself before he could say any more. The pain on his face amplified and he furrowed his brow. "I can never get used to this life. New aged television, movie graphics, technology, the people, or understand references to pop culture. I am a man out of time. I wish sometimes I could go back..."

I sat down next to him on his bed. I looked at him and waited until I thought of what to say. What could I say? Nothing would make him feel better. "You need to be here, Rogers. You're a big part of saving innocent lives. The world needs hope for the future, and Captain America is exactly what they need. You are an idol. Protector. Devilishly handsome." Whoa, mind, calm down. I didn't mean to say that out loud.

He grinned and his blue eyes met mine.

I had the urge to look away, but I held my stare and continued, "You are the first avenger. You started it all, and look at where it's led. I'm glad you're here in the present, and I hope you wouldn't change a thing."

The gears in his mind turned. "I can be all of those things for the people. But they see me as just a soldier. I have emotions. I have free will. I don't follow orders all the time."

I scoffed, "Yeah. I know." He fought for what he believed was just. That's what made him courageous and an idol for the people.

Steve glanced away and his smile fell. His voice lowered to almost a hurt whisper, "I just don't want you to think that I'm incapable of having feelings."

Steve doesn't want me to think he doesn't have feelings? Jeez, I know the guy is human and has a heart. Otherwise, he wouldn't be Captain America. I thought. "I don't think that, Rogers. Everyone has feelings. Even the most dastardly villain has feelings. I wouldn't expect you to not have any."

"Alright...good." He tapped his finger against his leg.

My guess? Seemed to be a nervous habit. Maybe a motion he did when he was sleep deprived. "Get some sleep, Cap. You need it." I rubbed my hand on his back as a token of comfort and got up to leave.

"Parker?"

I turned around and set my hand on the door frame, waiting for him to continue.

He stopped tapping his finger and looked up at me. "About those feelings...Do you want to get some coffee tomorrow or something?"

Now that was unexpected. I smirked and replied, "Alright, but you're paying." Steve lit up at the answer before I left the room. This is going to be interesting.