BLOODY BALLERINA ▹ barnes-romanoff ✓

два.

Hold my hand and never let me go 

because I am so tired of being alone.

Shrieks escaped Plan B's mouth as men grabbed at her. They pulled her from the corner that she knew as home. Her corner was a safe place, even if it was as dirty as the rest. It was the one portion of the room where nothing bad had happened. They roughly carried her writhing body out of the cell and her shrieks could be heard by everyone, but herself.

They threw a shirt over her bony frame, never having bothered giving her clothes before then. They believed she was an animal, just like her father, and animals didn't need to be dressed, bathed, or routinely fed. They needed to be caged, controlled, and beaten. So that's what they did. She had stopped shrieking by the time they reached the asset's quarters and all that could be heard of the little girl was quiet sobbing. The first guard yanked the door roughly open and the second one harshly tossed the small body onto the floor. With her eyes squeezed shut, she didn't see the fall coming and she tumbled across the cement ground like a rag doll. She didn't jump when the metal door slammed behind her and, after about five minutes, with her eyes still closed, her little hands slowly wiped away her tears.

The asset, the Winter Soldier as he was called, watched her, unmoving from the one chair he had within the quarters. He didn't know quite what to do with her. She was tiny, tinier than what he would expect of a four year old as that was the age he overheard his superior say she was. Well, then again, it wasn't like he ever saw many four year olds, so maybe she wasn't so tiny. He couldn't be sure. He wasn't even sure what in the world he was thinking he'd be able to do for her when he demanded she be brought here. All he knew was that he didn't want her to stay in that cell; he wanted his little girl to be in a place where he could at least watch her and know that she wasn't being hurt.

He studied her as she kept her eyes closed. She was covered in grime and blood; he doubted that she ever bathed. She was breathing heavily and quickly, like she couldn't get enough air. She was shivering incessantly and he couldn't figure out if it was because she was cold or she was scared. Her small stomach looked slightly swollen and the Soldier knew well enough that this meant she was malnourished. His metal hand curled into a fist, furious with the way that she was treated. Starved. Beaten. Almost as badly treated as he was, just in a different way.

He tried to look past the problems he saw on her so he could figure out what she looked like. She looked like she had big eyes, but he had yet to see their color. He wasn't surprised to see how pale her skin was beneath the bruises and blood. She'd probably never seen the sunlight in her life. What stood out the most to him was her hair.

Strong red.

Just like the woman's.

He tried to remember her. All he could get were flashes of the other life he lived five years ago. A life that lasted only a year before he was wiped again. The woman was as strong as the color of her hair was, he could remember that. She was as tough as nails and clever too. But he couldn't remember her voice, just that one small laugh he had heard when he realized who the little girl was.

He was still so caught up in his thoughts when suddenly the little girl's eyes opened and then she saw him. If he wasn't perfectly still before, he certainly was then. Everything within him turned to marble as he expected her to cry out or to start sobbing again. But she didn't. She just gazed at him with confusion. Neither spoke as they studied one other, now fully facing the other person.

The Soldier finally got see the color of her eyes.

A pale blue.

They reminded him of the very early mornings when he was about to go out on a mission.