She came to very slowly, not remembering how she got there, or even her own name for that matter. Strange, she thought, how could someone not remember their own name if they've had it all their life?
It was one of those nonsense things a seven year old would think about, of course, but she didn't know her name, so why would she know her age? She supposed she was about seven by the looks of her pudgy, tiny hands and her dress.
Ugh, her dress.
What once was surely a pretty little periwinkle dress with little frills, white lace, and a big blue bow, was black with dirt, ripped, snagged, and torn. It was not good. She could only look at it in shock and think, What have I done to my dress?
How unladylike.
But hadn't she heard that before? Someone had said it to her once, right? Or was it more than once? It was, wasn't it?
The little girl stopped herself, because remembering apparently hurt her head very badly. Her hands flew up, and she pressed them to her temples, taking deep breaths. Quickly realizing she could not dwell on a past she couldn't quite make clear, she decided to place her attention elsewhere.
Her dress for one, was bothering her.
She wanted to remove the dirty top layer, but there was something tucked underneath a royal blue ribbon that was tied around her middle. She pulled it out.
There was a very lovely family on the front. A child, in a deep blue dress and a Ruby red sweater and in her hair a bow of the same color. She had blonde hair with perfect little curls to surround her face, and rosy little cheeks. She might have been five.
Holding the girl's hand was a handsome man, but he couldn't have been her father. He looked nothing like the girl. But he had a smile on his face, and he stared at the girl with a playful but loving glint in his eye that made him seem like he really wanted to be.
She froze as a voice filled her head, "Hey, wait! STOP!" Somehow, the little girl knew it had to have been the man in the photo, his voice laced with worry and fear, but she could very clearly picture those playfully loving eyes, now dazed over in terror, staring right at her.
A new voice filled her head, one she knew was her own. "Uncle Howard!" Someone then clamped their hand over her mouth- which meant that the five-year-old in the picture- it was her!
But a minute later her head began to hurt again. So the supposed seven-year-old moved on to the next person in the picture.
She was a pretty woman, with curls that matched the little girl's- in fact, she looked almost exactly like the little girl, but instead of blonde hair and blue eyes, she had warmer, brown eyes and brunette hair. She was wearing an army uniform, decorated with a few medals and badges. But the most notable thing was her proud smile at the child, and her sad eyes.
They had this shine of memory, this empty, hollow look, as if she loved the little girl, but she reminded the woman of a past that she didn't want to remember.
This had to have been the girl's mother. But one thought entered her mind that seemed to immediately be answered by the picture.
Where was her father?
Whether he had passed or had left his family, he was no longer a part of the picture, literally and metaphorically. That explained the mother's sadness, and why Uncle Howard was holding her hand instead of her father. He was seemingly her "dad" role model.
Soon it became to much again, and this time the girl dropped her picture and closed her eyes in pain. When she opened them, she saw the picture had flipped over, and on the back was words scrawled onto the paper.
Belle of the Ball
Positively Gorgeous
Minicap
Peggy Carter
Howard Stark
Minicap? Minicap. Minicap! It was a nickname! Maybe her mother or father was a Captain, and so that was what she'd been called. Maybe her father had died in service as Captain, and the nickname stuck. It all made sense to Minicap, now.
So what were the other words? Belle of the ball, positively gorgeous... maybe those were words that had been directed to her? What if... what if they were things said to her that night?
Of course! Past Minicap was aware something was going to happen to herself. She was trying to let present Minicap know that she was loved and cared for, and maybe someone was even looking for her. She also gave her a name to call herself.
Happier, Minicap untied her ribbon and pulled off the top periwinkle layer of the dress. She was left in a white under-layer, plain and buttoned up in the back. She then folded over the skirt to make it shorter, and tied the ribbon around her waist to hold it up, tucking in the picture again. After that she pulled out the periwinkle head ribbon and used it to tie back the dirty and matted curls that surrounded her face.
She knew her mother would have reprimanded her for doing so, but Minicap was proud of her resourcefulness. It wasn't meant to look pretty: it was meant to help her survive the night.
She took the periwinkle top and placed it over herself like a blanket. Little did she know she was being watched.
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"Smart child," whispered Dr. Arnim, "for only seven years old."
Her supervisor nodded. "Yes. She is resourceful, at the least. We can send her to train with the Winter Soldier at the end of the week."
Dr. Arnim nodded and left, but the supervisor stared at the screen a moment longer.
"You truly are a special girl." He said to himself, maliciously staring down at where the camera was watching the little girl sleep.
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Fanfiction"I go by many names, sir. Some are good, some are bad- the most common one feels like it's both." "I highly doubt that." "Oh, but it's true. Come on, now, you didn't really think that being known as Captain America's daughter wouldn't be a burden, d...
