AN: Before you get mad and possibly throw things at me, let me apologize for being easily distracted by another story idea!
Secondly, if you haven't watched CA:TWS, don't read because there may be spoilers.
Please read and enjoy!
AN: So you know, from now all the chapters will be in Teddy's p.o.v. If there are line breaks, those are in third person. Okay? Okay.
Chapter Two: Teddy Meets...
The minute I sat down at my table, I could feel someone watching me. And not in the creepy, stalker kind of way. More like in the 'you're-new' kind of way. I didn't bother looking up from the file I was reading, used to these looks. I've been getting them since I arrived in D.C. Not to mention, my Uncle-in-law had hired some people to follow me around back in Rio.
Sorry, should probably introduce myself, huh? I'm Teddy, short for Theodore. Weird, I know. But I had no choice when it came to my name, so just deal with it, 'kay? Kay. I'm a paralegal assistant at a business firm. Meaning, I deal with whatever suits that are thrown their way. Sounds boring, and it can be when there's no work, but trust me, it can be interesting. Like right now. The file I'm currently reading involves a corporate hand selling a faulty product to an old customer. Sounds simple, but really, it's not.
This particular customer has never once made a claim like this before, and it's my job to find out why. Besides, gives me something to think about besides...well, that's a whole other story...I won't bore you with it. Not yet, at least.
"Hello. May I sit here?" I look up at the sound of a new voice. I'm not all that surprised to see Steve Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, standing in front of me. He's wearing jeans, a grey t-shirt, and a brown, bomber jacket. I can see a bike a few feet away. How the hell did I not hear that thing? I mentally shake my head and nod, gesturing for him to sit down. Now, before you ask how I know him, it's another long story. Here's the short version: my great grandmother was his best female friend and she told me numerous stories about how her, Steve, and another man named Bucky, would get into trouble while they all lived in New York. Yeah, talk about cool.
Off topic, but he also happens to be the main reason why I'm even in this city, though the job is a good reason, too. It's just, after her death, I've been trying to learn more about my great grandmother. I figured I go see one of her old friends, the one that wasn't dead. It's quiet on the other side of the small coffee table, which I figured was normal. Maybe Steve didn't know who I was? I wouldn't be angry if he didn't, after all, it's not like Maria and him stayed in touch after his whole freezing into a popsicle.
"Excuse me, miss? Mind if I ask you a few questions?" Steve finally asks after a few moments of silence. I nod and set my file down, closing it just in case he gets curious.
"Certainly." I say, aware that my accent can be clearly heard. I give him a simple smile to show that I'm friendly, but not overly friendly. Someone once told me to hide my emotions when it came to strangers. After all, people in D.C. aren't as friendly as the people in Rio. I know from firsthand experience.
"I'm going to get straight to the point here, so I apologize if I sound rude or overbearing. But, are you the great granddaughter of Maria Costello?" He asks. Like he said, straight to the point. I nod and take a sip of my drink, stirring my strawberry lemonade around to mix it evenly. I could really go for a margarita right now, but as it's only 11 am, it might be a too little early to start drinking. Guess the lemonade will have to do, for now. Things can change.
"I assume you are Steve Rogers, then?" I ask in return.
"Yes ma'am." He says, giving me a polite smile. Huh, Maria said he had a hard time talking to woman, but that doesn't seem to be a problem. Could it be the resemblance between Maria and I? Probably.
"Alright. Are we gonna finish 20 questions?" I ask playfully, glancing around. I can feel eyes on me, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. I shook the feeling off, it was probably nothing. Then again...Nah...just my imagination.
"Why are you here?"
"For the drinks and friendly atmosphere." I say sarcastically.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then specify next time." I say, taking another drink. Steve shakes his head and chuckles.
"Same attitude, I see."
"I've always had this attitude."
"Smart mouth."
"Dumbass." I shoot back. Again, he chuckles, though this time it's longer and louder. I grin and grab my file, placing it in my bag. While I'm doing that, my sleeve moves a little, showing off my Henna tattoo that stretches all the way down to my middle finger. Steve notices but doesn't say anything. "Why are you here?" I ask, leaning back in my seat and crossing my right leg over my left. My posture gives the impression that I'm relaxed, but still in control. Exactly what I'm not going for, but hey. Fake it till ya make it!
"I was informed that you were in town and you were looking for me." He says, coming straight out with the truth.
"That's half the reason why I'm here."
"What's the other reason?"
"Work."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Imma a paralegal assistant." I say, my accent a little stronger than I wanted. Oh well.
"Where?" He asked, leaning back in his chair. He looks more relaxed, probably thinking that he could handle me should I turn out to be an enemy. Pfft, whatever. I didn't learn Parkour for 11 years for nothing.
"A large business firm. But I take it that's what you want to talk about, is it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. If we were standing up, I would've put a hand on my hip to let him know I was serious.
"Your resemblance to her is amazing. It's like I've went back in time." Steve says more to himself than me. I feel an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, like someone is listening in to our conversation. I rub my shoulder as an excuse to tilt my head up and peer at the rooftops. I catch the smallest glint of sunshine off a metal, which is unusual because the building I see it coming from doesn't have any metal near the edges. I know, I've jumped and run across that building before.
"Maria told me stories about you and this other man, Bucky." I say, pulling Steve from his musings. He nods, though he looks uncomfortable the minute I say Bucky. Understandable. He probably still blames himself for his best friend's death. But I need to know more about Maria. So, I swallow my pity/empathy for him and charge forward. "I have this letter with me. Maria used to read it every night before see went to bed. I haven't read it, but I knew she would've wanted me to give it to you." I say, pulling out an aged letter that says 'Maria' on the front in slanted cursive. It's apparent that a man wrote it and in a haste, too. I set it on the table in front of him and get up, placing the money I owe for my drink down beside it. I grab my plastic cup and walk past Steve, patting his shoulder. I had made sure to slip a piece of paper underneath the letter. It has my address, email, and cell number on it. Just in case he wants to contact me correctly, instead of stalking me.
He watched the girl carefully, noting how she kept her hair positioned over her right eye. She walked with this fluidness and purpose, like she knew exactly what she was doing and how to do it. She even sat with purpose. He found this interesting. He also found her file interesting.
He had reported to Pierce with the new information that he had learned, and had been given another mission. Pierce wanted him to keep an eye on the girl, make sure she wasn't a threat to their plans. So far, he found her intriguing, but harmless.
And yet, there was just something about her that made him want to know more. Maybe it was the way she pretended to rub her shoulder in order to look around. He ducked away when her eyes looked at him. He had moved fast enough, but when he peeked another look before moving to the next building, he found that she was glaring at his spot. He raised an eyebrow at that. Could she have seen him? Impossible, yet, there was that small chance.
He watched her put a file away and pull something else out, something that looked older and gave him a twinge of pain in his heart. He shook the feeling off, thinking it nothing. He was emotionless, a cold hearted killer. He shouldn't be fazed by anything, especially not a piece of aged paper. He observed her slipping another piece of paper underneath the first one before paying and leaving. He jumped to the next building, following her with his eyes.