TOXIC ~ STEVE ROGERS [1]

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I don't know what I thought was going to happen, or how to respond to his words, but before I thought about it my phone rang loudly in my pocket.

The moment was broken, and I dug out my phone from my pocket and checked the caller ID.

My heart almost froze. My breath hitched in my lungs and I covered the screen with my hands.

"I, uh, I have to take this," the words fumbled out of my mouth as I left the booth and Steve watching, puzzled.

I pushed the diner door open with a slam, and out into the open air. Steve was watching me from inside, his burger untouched on his plate.
I took one look at him, and then turned away, swiping the call button on my phone and putting it to my ear.

"Hello Father," I said blankly.

"My Omlilo," my father breathed. "It's been so long." I could hear the emotion in his voice. The way it was almost breaking, it sounded so soft and so different from the man who ordered me to stay.

"There's a reason for that," I said harshly. Hearing my father's voice brought out a side of me I hadn't seen in 3 years.

"I'm sorry I never called-"

"Don't be. I didn't want to talk to you," I interrupted him. My father only reminded me of pain.

And he had done nothing but try to save me.

"But now I guess I have to," I spat when he didn't respond.

"You should come home. Even for a little while. Your mother.. " he trailed off, and rightly so. He knew better than to mention my mother to me.

"Did you know?" I asked suddenly. I was angry, all of a sudden. I had been lied to, and tricked for so many years as to who I was.

"I knew you might develop abilities yes," my father sounded unsure.

"That not what I mean and you know it," I wrapped my free arm around my waist. There was a lump in my throat, and my eyes began to water.

"Did you know, about, about my parents?" I said, my lower lip trembling. I never meant to show this much emotion. It wasn't like me.

My father sighed on the other end, and I already knew the answer.

"Yes my Omlilo, I knew," he said sadly.

Anger boiled in my chest, a flaming rage that suited the nickname my father used.

Omlilo - fiery one.

"How could you not tell me? How could you keep my own identity a secret?!" I hissed into the phone, my voice low and dangerous.

"I didn't want you to feel different," my father tried explaining, but he wasn't very good.

"I always was. Even without being half Asgardian I was different. I wasn't really a part of your family. I was adopted, I was white and I was alien. My brother was the only one who treated me as an equal. Not even you did that Father."

I was crying, hot tears streaking my face and my lips shaking with every word.

"Omlilo I'm so sorry," my father choked. I could hear his laboured breaths, a sure sign he too was crying.
I heard rustling in the background, and a voice called out faintly.

"Father? Are you in there?" My brother called from wherever he was on the other end of the line. I sniffed, and felt tears drip off of my chin.

"I'm sorry Father, but I will not come home. I have a place here, with people like me. Give my love to my brother," I shut my eyes tight, screwing up my face.

"Khethiwe, wait-" my father didn't get a chance to finish because I hung up abruptly.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and wrapped my other arm around my waist, hugging myself against a sudden cold I felt. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks, slower now but constant.

I pulled out a brand new packet of Camels cigarettes, and within seconds was puffing away in the cold, the nicotine pulsing through me.

Footsteps thumped behind me. I spun around, and saw Steve coming out from the diner. I turned my head away and wiped my face with one hand, the tears making my skin blotchy.

"Is everything alright?" He walked closer to me, his hand outstretched like he wanted to touch me. I looked at the ground, cigarette in one hand and the other wrapped around myself.

"Yeah, um, everything is fine," I said loudly, blowing smoke from my lips. Steve didn't believe me. He cocked his head to the side and looked me in the eyes.

"Do you wanna go eat?" He said, gesturing to the diner. I shook my head.

"I'm not hungry anymore," I said lamely. Steve smiled.

"You know, neither am I," he looked over at the motorcycle.

"Wanna get going?" He asked. I nodded slowly. He was so nice to me, and I didn't know why, because I wasn't exactly a nice or likeable person.

"I gotta grab my-" I was interrupted by Steve holding up the small sliver box.

"I got it," he said proudly. I grinned slightly. He really was America's Golden Boy.

Soon enough, we were seated on the motorcycle, ready go to.

"So Captain, where are we headed?" I tried to sound funny but it felt fake, and Steve knew it. But being him he didn't say a word.

"Washington DC," he replied, revving the engine.

"We're going to Washington on a motorcycle?" I exclaimed. Steve laughed, and the sound made my stomach flutter.

"Well, I thought we'd go pick up your things and grab a car while we're there too," he explained.

"You've got everything figured out, don't you?" I said, looking at his face from behind.

"Well," Steve didn't say anymore, but I knew what he meant. He tried to have everything figured out, but it didn't always work.
For me, it never worked.

My arms were wrapped around Steve's waist, and while we weren't wearing helmets or leather, I felt completely and totally safe with him. He was like a shield, ironically, and I knew he would keep me safe, whatever the cost. That was just who he was.

"So, Washington?" Steve repeated, his muscles clenched.

I nodded.

This was it. The start of another life, of being a part of something bigger than my own problems. In that very moment, that I realized I didn't want to be a hero. Not like Steve, not like Tony. I wanted to make sure I could save people like Michelle, and redeem myself from the innocent people I killed.

I wasn't a hero. I was a fighter. I wasn't doing it because it was the right thing. I was doing it because someone needed to do it, and why shouldn't it be me?

I nestled closer to Steve, and closed my eyes.

"Washington it is."

The End

Keight Walsh will Return