Walking down the filthy street, Steve Rogers wondered just what had happened to the woman he'd been searching for, for two years. She'd never live in a place like this, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol was strong, gangs of teenagers walking around and the residents of the cheap buildings didn't look the friendliest either. He was worried, this neighbourhood wasn't safe. Looking back down at the piece of paper in his hands, checking the address again before he made his way down the cracked path and pushing open the door. Apartment number... 21A, he looked at the red door, paint chipping off and lock broken. Worry filled the Captain as he pushed the open the broken door. The sound of the TV filled his ears, the sound of a glass smashing a child crying soon followed. Relief filled him knowing that the child was alive, there was still the possibility of danger. As he stepped inside, the strong smell of alcohol and filth filled his nose. Clothes and trash littered the floor, the wallpaper and ceiling had dirt stains and yellow marks all over them. Glancing to his left, he saw the dirtiest kitchen he'd ever seen, empty and dirty plates everywhere, food all over the floor and the table was in pieces. Walking down the hallway, he stepped in what he thought was puke. The first door to his right, he saw a little girl with long, tangled and greasy dark hair and a face stained with filth. She didn't wear anything but diaper and a grey t-shirt, playing with a few toy cars that Steve remembered buying for Phil when he found out the man was expecting a child. Stepping into the small bedroom, he kneeled down before the girl.

"Hey there, princess. I'm Steve, what's your name?" he gave her a friendly smile, the little girl just smiled back up at him, 2 year olds can talk, right? The girl didn't say anything to Steve but she did shiver, Steve barely felt the cold in here. He saw the window was wide open, too many obstacles in the way to close the window. Checking around, there also seemed to be no clean clothes available for the child. Taking off his jacket, he wrapped the child's body in the warm winter coat and picked her up, putting the hood over her head and making sure she could still breath. She girl rested her head against Steve's shoulder, she felt too light to be a healthy weight. He may not be around kids a lot any more but he knew about healthy weights. Walking back out into the hallway, he was certain this was Phil Coulson's daughter. She had his eyes, he'd met her mother once or twice and was certain the child held a lot of her features, her dark hair and tanned skin definitely. Poking his head into the living room, he saw the woman he'd been looking for. She was a wreck, her dark brown hair was greasy and in a messy bun on top of her head, heavy bags beneath her eyes and a bottle of Fosters' Lager in hand, bottles - both broken and half-drank - laying around all over the floor, her clothes were just tiger print pyjama's that were worn and obviously too small, a faded pink tee shirt with yellow stains all over. Her green eyes were trained at the TV, which was on the shopping channel. Steve cleared his throat and slowly, the woman turned her tanned face to look at him. Eyes going wide, she dropped her bottle on to the floor.

"Steve?" she looked to be in disbelief, everything she had ran from was catching up to her suddenly. Everything she had become disgusted Steve, how could she live this way? Especially with a child, the daughter of a good man, dragged along in this rats cave.
"The one and only" he couldn't help but look at the photos on the desk, most of which were turned down. Her with many different guys, none of Phil. "How could you run away like that? I was so worried about you and... And... Well, Phil's daughter." he sighed, he didn't get to know what the girl was called. Staring back at the woman, Steve asked the question playing on his mind. "What did you call her?" the look of confusion on her face was infuriating, Steve gestured to the now asleep child in his arms. The woman's face went blank, like she didn't care to answer his question.
"I didn't name it" was her only bored reply, reaching down for the bottle on the floor. It caught Steve's attention that it wasn't even a beer bottle she was using, it was a babies bottle with the lid removed. It angered Steve to new levels that this woman, a woman he knew to be a nice and caring, was such a bad and unfit mother.
"You know what? You are unfit to be a mother. I'm taking her back to my place, she's staying with me from now on." Steve took a few steps towards the door, stopping when he heard the horrified shriek from the woman.
"You can't take her away" the drunk woman slurred at Steve, lazily reaching out for the child in his arms. The Captain gave the woman a cold look, holding the sleeping two year old gently in his arms.
"I think you'll find I can, Melissa. You're not fit to be her mother." All Melissa did was drink and have random men over, most of the time she ignored the presence of her daughter. Steve Rogers was the god-father of the still unnamed girl, daughter of his friend Phil Coulson. Melissa Shrapnel had been pregnant when Phil 'died' and spiralled down an unhealthy path, unsafe for herself and her daughter.
"The police will never allow it!" Melissa tried standing up, Steve took a step back.
"I'm sorry, Mel. I'm only doing what's best for Ashley-"
"Her name isn't Ashley!"
"She doesn't even have a name, remember?! I'm naming her Ashley, I'll return for whatever things she has in a week." Ashley remained asleep, wrapped up warmly in Steve's coat. Steve promised Phil he'd take care of Ashley, that's exactly what he's doing. Despite her attempts to get Steve to stop, he walked swiftly from the apartment and away from the neighbourhood. Taking out his phone as he walked, he searched his contact list until he came across Natasha's number.

"Hello?" the familiar voice of, not Natasha, but Clint Barton filled his ears.
"Hey, Clint? It's Steve, can you put Natasha on?" Steve had a small smirk, knowing Natasha and Clint were a thing. It was only him, Bruce and Pepper that knew.
"Oh, uh, sure. I'll get her now." Clint clearly wasn't expecting Steve to call, didn't he look at the caller ID? Steve listened as Clint yelled for Natasha to come to the phone, finally hearing her voice.
"Steve? What's up?"
"I need some help, can you come by my place at about..." he trailed off to check his watch "About four pm today?" he finished.
"Sure, why?"
"I can explain better when I see you" he sighed, was there anyway to tell someone that you've taken your god-daughter from her alcoholic mother over the phone? Natasha sighed and replied with.
"Fine, I'll see you then."
"Bring those nice donuts, and some fruit" he added before hanging up, leaving Natasha to wonder what's going on.