Losing game (Captain America x Reader)

21.

She waited for him on the parking lot, wearing his cap. She was in the same clothes as yesterday. She didn't take her bag with her, so she didn't have any spare clothes.

A few minutes later, Steve got outside.

"So which car is yours?" He asked, looking around at the nearly empty parking lot.

"I am not sure that you want to know." She said, trying to sound innocent. He smiled at her.

"Why? Because it's a bad car?" He laughed and she bit her lip.

"Because it isn't my car." She talked low. She didn't want to tell him that she stole a car, but what choice did she have? He raised an eyebrow but was still smiling at her.

"Of course, you did." He shook his head and led her to his car. An old vintage one. It was small. She had a hard time believing he could be in this car. She smiled while picturing him in it. "Oh. I nearly forgot. I took some clothes with me. Pierce took your bag, so I hope you like Nat's style." He was trying to hold in his laugh, but unsuccessful. She rolled her eyes at him.

"They will do, thanks." She took out a t-shirt and looked at it. It was a black one. Plain. It would do. She looked around the parking lot and when she was sure no one was around, she took off her shirt and changed into the t-shirt.

"Are you ready?" Steve looked at her. She threw her shirt on the backseat of the car.

"Yes, lets go." She said and entered the car.

----

They parked next to the cemetery. [Y/n] thought about going back and ask the old lady if she knew where Sia would be and what they meant with what they said. Tell her we are sorry. Sorry about what? She got out of the car. The weather was warm, so she didn't bring her jacket. She had kept the cap on. She couldn't risk being recognized by someone. And she had a feeling that Pierce had sent some of his men to Philly. It was where they caught her the first time.

They walked into the cemetery and stopped in front of her father's grave. The flowers were still on the ground and everything looked the same as yesterday.

"I wished him dead so many times." [Y/n] said and looked up at Steve. He didn't say anything. "He broke my life." Steve took her hand.

"And now that he's dead?" Steve stroked the palm of her hand with his finger.

"I can't stop thinking about all the things I didn't get to tell him." She looked down at their hands. "I wanted him to know what he did. How I turned out. When I was 16, I ran from the agency. I went here. I wanted to confront him, but I couldn't." A tear fell down from her eye.

"What would you say if he was here?"

"I wished I could tell him that I got my life under control. That I had been happy since the day I left him. But that would be a lie. When I got into the agency, I was only 14. At age 15 they let me out at night and in the weekends. I made some bad choices." She looked at the ground. She didn't want him to think bad about her. But she didn't know what he had seen inside her mind. She'd might as well tell him now. So she did.

"I met some bad men. Not bad like my dad, but men with bad influence. They took advance of me, or I took advance of them. I still don't know which is right. I got a bad habit of meeting them in the weekends. They gave me drugs and I took them. Anything to get me out of my life for a while. It became an addiction. They would give me whatever they had, and I would keep them company..." she looked away from Steve. She was embarrassed with herself. She hadn't told that story to anyone. He didn't say anything. He just kept stroking her hand.

"When S.H.I.E.L.D. found out they took away my weekends. They sent me to rehab at the age of 17. It became so bad before that. I didn't want to live. I couldn't see a point of living. I had lost everything." She started to cry. He pulled her close to him, placing his arm around her.

"When I got back from rehab, they made me train even harder than before. They made me a good agent. A great one. But they didn't give me back the will to live. It was tough. The thought of Sia was what kept me going." She looked back at the grave and wiped away her tears. They stood like this for a while. [Y/n] didn't know what Steve was thinking. Did he blame her for leaving Sia? For turning out the way she did? She didn't ask. She couldn't bear if that was the answer.

"A woman moved in at our old house. She talked about Sia. Maybe we should go talk with her again?" She looked up at Steve.

"Maybe she will know something." He said and they walked out the cemetery. She led the way to the house and didn't let go of his hand. Neither of them saw the man that was sitting in the van on the other side of the road. Watching them.

She knocked on the door and waited for someone to open. A few seconds went by before the door opened. It was the lady. She smiled when she saw [y/n].

"What can I do for you today hon?" She asked and looked at Steve. "Oh. You are that American Captain, right?" She looked shocked. He smiled at her.

"Good afternoon ma'am. I hope you don't mind if we could ask you a few other questions?" He was charming when he talked. [Y/n] looked up at Steve and for the first time she thought; he is actually older than the lady in front of her. This is so crazy. She couldn't help but smile. It was weird to think about.

"Well, of course. Come in." She moved away from the door opening and gave them space to move inside. The house looked nothing like it did when she lived there. The walls were filled with pictures. The living room looked inviting. There were no beers standing on the coffee table. No filled ashtrays. It looked like a home. "Sit down." She said with a smile. They did as she said. They didn't want to be rude.

"You said something yesterday about my sister?" She looked at the lady who sat down in the armchair.

"Oh, what a sweet girl." She looked out the window, into the garden. [Y/n] looked outside too. She didn't spend a lot of time out there. It used to look so sad. Now the grass was green, and the garden was filled with flowers.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Steve asked. The lady thought for a while before answering.

"A little while after your father died. She sold us the house. We used to live in the neighborhood, so we knew her growing up." It took a while for [y/n] to understand what she was saying.

"What do you mean with that?" She asked. It began to feel harder to breathe. She took Steve's hand, feeling her heart beat faster.

"Well, we moved here when she was around seven years old. Such a lovely girl." The lady smiled at [y/n], not knowing that the things she said destroyed her. She didn't knew what to say. She looked at Steve for help.

"I am sorry ma'am, but I was under the understanding that Sia wasn't living with her father?" He squeezed her hand, trying to get her to calm down a bit, but it didn't work. She felt like she was about to panic.

"No, she was living with her father. She lived in this house right up to his death." The lady began to look confused.

"Just her and her father?" Steve asked. [Y/n] couldn't speak. She wanted some air, but she didn't wanted to miss another detail.

"Well. A woman came by a few times over the years. She didn't stay for long. She had kind eyes. I never spoke with her." The lady stood up from the armchair. "I think I have a picture somewhere around here." She opened a drawer and took out a picture. It was old and someone had spilled on it. She handed it to [y/n] who took it.

"This is the woman." She said. [Y/n] looked down at the picture and almost got a heart attack. She felt dizzy, like she was about to faint.

"Are you sure?" She asked with a low, shaking voice. The lady nodded. She looked down at the picture again. She saw herself, proud and smiling. Baby Sia in a blanket. And last. Her mother.