Who are you? Steve x daughter!reader *SLOW UPDATES*

I don't know.

As they got out of the royal blue pickup truck, Natasha held up a tracking device and walked around.

"This is it?" Brooklyn mumbled. She couldn't believe she was back at the training camp where her mama worked for so long- the place they drove to every summer and special occasion for more testing, experiments, documents, and practice.

"The file came from these coordinates." Nat confirmed.

"So did I." Brooklyn whispered, except she wasn't the only one. Rogers also said it, staring at the place like some long, distant memory of something more meaningful would consume him if he opened the gate. It probably would.

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Night fell quickly as the trio walked around, looking for the signal.

"This is where I was trained." Rogers explained, looking all around him.

"Change much?" Natasha asked.

Steve stopped walking and stared at the flag pole in front of him. "A little." 

Brooklyn zoned out, thinking about one of the last times she had stepped foot on this soil.

"C'mon, move it!" A man called. Brooklyn watched as a group of men ran up to the car and were ordered to stop. "That flag hasn't been grabbed since Captain America, gentlemen. Grab that, you get a ride back with Miss Carter."

The men jumped and climbed, but to no avail. The flag flew as high as ever, a proud symbol of the nation. A child soon peaked her head out of the car- Brooklyn knew this was six-year-old her. She remembered vividly just how much she wanted to see it- to feel it in her hands.

Her father once held that flag. 

Younger Brooklyn got out of the car quietly, walking toward the flag as the men walked away from it, giving up. She stared up at it. She supposed she'd have to climb, but surely everyone here knew it was too skinny. There had to be another way.

She looked at the pole. Completely smooth, nowhere to grab onto. Finally, she looked at where it was buried into the ground.

Except it wasn't.

Where Brooklyn had assumed it to sink deep into the soil of the path, there was a little screw, holding the pole up. All she'd need to do was get it out. She pulled it. It came out with ease, and the pole fell with a crash. She grabbed the flag and held it up to the sunlight. Her father had once figured out this trick, too, he'd held the same flag she was holding now. There was a piece of him that lived in this flag- the piece that made him Captain America. The piece filled with courage, bravery, and of course, wit. It didn't fix everything, but the large hole in Brooke's heart filled just a little. Brooke wanted to meet her father so badly.

Brooke wanted to be her father so badly. The six-year-old holding the flag looked up and stared at the now ten-year-old version of herself, who was watching the scene play out with the utmost shame in her mind.

The six-year-old smiled and tried to give Brooke the American Flag, but the older of the two shook her head, coming back to reality from her moment of reminiscence.

She whispered under her breath, "I don't know who I am."

"This is a dead end." Natasha sighed, snapping Brooklyn and Rogers out of their trances. "Zero heat signatures, zero waves, not even radio." She shook her head, putting the tracker in her back pocket. "Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off."

But Brooklyn was hardly listening- she had just spotted a building, not unlike the others in any way physically, but Brooklyn felt a sense of hope washing over her. Inside that building were the offices of Colonel Phillips, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark. Inside that building there were the labs where a baby was born, where a little girl was experimented on, where a young child practiced what she was meant to do in life, where America's Princess was practically raised. Inside that building there was a little corner with a child's desk with a vase for flowers, a pencil for drawing, a picture of a mother and a daughter, and a little gold plate just like the one sitting on Peggy Carter's desk.