Romanogers Stories

Young Natalia

@Oppresso Here's your request!

He walked through the streets of Russia, with no particular destination in mind. He and the Howling Commandos were stationed outside the capital for a few days as the snow had piled up too high for easy travel. They'd taken down a Hydra facility a couple days ago, but now they were bored and needed something to do.

He wasn't particularly wishing to celebrate. They'd lost several innocents and it felt disrespectful to be happy when he could've saved them, despite what the others said.

It was a cold night, not that it ever seemed like this place could be warm anyway, but this one was particularly rough. And he was a super soldier, so cold didn't bother him like the average human, but even he was feeling the draft. He kicked at the pebbles alongside the road. Most people were inside at this time of night, but he needed the quiet to think.

The harsh sounds of breathing piqued his curiosity.

He hadn't seen anyone nearby, but the breathing was at least fifteen or so feet away, if he was sensing things properly. It sounded strained and shaky, almost like they were cold or suffering, and he immediately searched for the source.

What he found angered him.

It was a young girl, maybe thirteen, chained out in the deep snow with nothing but a shirt on. She was shivering terribly; he was surprised she was still alive.

He wasted no time in breaking the chains, wrapping his coat around her before pulling her to his chest. She fought him, but her movements were weak and sluggish, and her body soon went slack as the cold pulled her under.

He looked around for anyone who could be responsible before hurrying back to the camp. He just couldn't believe someone could do that to a child. He held her close to his chest to provide as much warmth as he could, but he was afraid it wouldn't be enough.

The men looked at him strangely as he called for as many blankets as he could get. And pants, socks and whatever else they could spare. All eyes widened when he sat down in front of the fire and unwrapped the girl before pulling the way too big clothes over her, then covered her back up with a few blankets.

"Who is she?"

"Where the hell did she come from?"

"Why did you bring her here?"

"Why does she look like death?"

He knew the questions would come, but he silences them with a look, not wanting to deal with them just yet. He just wanted her to survive, and maybe tell him what was going on and why she had been chained outside in the cold, left to die.

He didn't move from her side for hours. Never slept. He just worried for her. Her color had improved during the night, but she never woke. He figured she'd be sick for a while after what she had endured, but he'd help her if he could. God, he wanted to hurt the person who'd done this to her.

Finally, right before dawn, she began to stir, quickly jumping from the pile of blankets and going on the defensive, looking around warily.

"Easy," Steve tells her softly, holding up his hands to show he wouldn't hurt her.

She wasn't scared from what he could tell. She looked over each of them carefully, like she had been trained or something.

She looks down at the clothes she's in and then quickly begins to strip out of what he'd added to her and he tries to stop her, but she flinches back.

"Don't take those off," he begs. "You were lucky enough to make it back here alive. I didn't know if you'd make it or not."

She looks at him curiously. "I'm not allowed them, sir," she replies, her accent similar to his.