[Steve]
"Not scary," Girl mumbles quietly to herself as I begin preparing things for her bath, the wavering in her voice letting know that more than anything, she's trying to convince herself of this. My heart softens at her efforts.
"Not scary," I repeat back to her gently, grabbing a towel and placing it down on the ground for her to step out on when she's done. Reaching out over the empty basin, I turn the crank the faucet dial to the left, the sudden rushing sound causing Girl to jump. Softening my expression towards the child, I send her a sympathetic smile, feeling just as bad as I always do when I accidentally startle her. I check the temperature periodically with my hand, and as soon as it feels comfortable, I push down on the plug. Slowly, the water level begins to rise.
Turning back to Girl, my gaze catches hers, causing her to flinch. Looking around the bathroom, I wish I had a rubber duck or toy boat to throw in the bath, just to act as some sort of distraction for the little one. Unfortunately, all of this has been so last-minute; we have the essentials, but there are a lot of things we should still compile into a shopping list to go grab soon.
"Okay, sweetheart. While that's filling up, should we get you out of your clothes?" At my words, the small girl's eyes widen as she takes an instinctive step back, bumping up against the door that's now closed behind her. As her hands come up from her sides to form a defensive position, she looks at me, her eyes swelling with fear. Softening my posture, I lower my voice, murmuring, "It's alright, Girl. I won't hurt you." Cautiously, I shift towards the child, only for her to strain her body further up against the door, trembling helplessly. "Hey, you're okay. Can you take some deep breaths? In, and out, there you go. It's just me, remember? Just Stevie."
"Just S-Stevie," Girl stutters, trying her best to match her breathing to my words.
"Yep, just Stevie. You're safe, doll; nothing bad's gonna happen to you." Not wanting to push her too quickly, but also wanting to move her along to show her how just how safe she is, I ask, "Do you think we can take off your shirt and your bottoms? You can keep your underwear on if you want. They'll get wet, but we can put on dry ones when you get out." More than anything, I just want to do as much as I can to make this an easier, less frightening process for her. Because of her traumatic past, hopefully covering her most vulnerable parts will make this a little bit more bearable. The girl considers my offer for several moments, but ultimately nods, prompting me to give her an encouraging smile.
Her shaky arms reach down to the hem of her shirt, carefully lifting it up and off of her body. She holds it in both of her hands, looking confused as to where to put it.
"Here, I can take that," I tell her warmly, reaching out and taking the blouse from her. Folding it up loosely, I set it on the counter. Girl watches my every move, clearly still skeptical of me and my motives during this new experience. When I turn back to her, she looks down at her pants, her fingers finding their way to the button above the zipper. She fumbles with it for a few good seconds before I offer, "Here, do you want some help with that?"
The child looks up at me and nods, her cheeks turning pink. As I inch closer to her, she once again presses herself back against the door, my heartache only worsening for the fearful girl. As carefully as I can, I reach out and tug down on the zipper. I then unbutton the button at the top, saying softly, "There you go, sweetie."
Her hands move down and find the waistline of the pants, but before she proceeds, a nervous expression forms on her face. Glancing up at me for a moment, her mouth opens as if she's about to say something, but then it appears she stops herself. Closing her mouth, the little girl gulps, her eyes falling to the floor. "Hey, what is it, doll?" I ask carefully. Biting her lip anxiously, Girl is quiet, seemingly unable to let herself speak. "It's alright, sweetheart," I soothe, "you can tell me."
"W-will... can- can Girl have c'othes after, too? P-please?" she asks, sounding terrified that the answer might be 'no.'
"Hey, of course you can," I tell her, my eyebrows furrowing in concern, absolutely devastated that she would worry about something like that. Relaxing slightly at my answer, Girl nods, seeming relieved with the promise of not staying naked forever. Reaching down, she slips her legs out of her pants, handing them to me. As she does so, I'm finally met with the sight of her standing before me, nothing other than her underwear covering her frail body.
It's a heartbreaking sight. The tiny child's bones stick out from every angle; I can count each and every one of her ribs. Her chest bones are prominent in a way I've never seen before, her hip bones jutting out sharply beneath the elastic waistband of the pastel underwear. Her knees look like knobs, knocking against one another. The gap between her thighs makes her look as if she hasn't eaten a single proper meal in her life. Her skin itself is littered with bruises and scars, some places seeming to be freshly discolored, still going through the healing process. There are permanent marks on her wrists and ankles, most likely from the chains they kept her in. Jagged slashes run along her sides, trailing to her back, presumably from some sort of whip. Dark spots form patches across her hips and thighs. I swallow down anger, knowing exactly what those marks are from.
As my gaze finds its way back up to the little girl's face, I realize that I've been staring. The poor thing looks back at me with tear-filled eyes, her bottom lip quivering. "S-Sorry," she whimpers, her voice dripping with shame as her arms moving self-consciously to cover her stomach and sides.
"Oh no, hey- it's okay. I'm sorry, sweetheart; I didn't mean to stare. I was just... I'm so sorry, Girl. I'm so sorry they hurt you. Nobody deserves to be treated this way." Girl's gaze drops shamefully to the floor as guilt rises in my chest. "You don't have to apologize or be embarrassed, okay?" I promise her. "No matter what they did to you." I'm about to say more when I remember that the water's still running. Turning to look briefly, I notice it's just about reached the perfect spot. Scooting over on my knees, I off the water flow before turning back to Girl, I tell her, "Alright, pumpkin. The water's ready; do you wanna come get in?"
The child blinks a few times, looking at the filled tub with an extremely wary look on her face. To my surprise, though, she takes the few short steps over to stand beside me. "S'gonna be c-cold?" she asks carefully.
"No, not cold. I made sure it was nice and warm."
"H-hot?" she whimpers, flinching back.
"No, not hot either. It's okay, sweetheart. It's warm enough to not feel cool, but no warmer than that; it should feel nice and comfortable. And if it doesn't, we can change it."
Eyes still glued to the tub, Girl looks warily down at the surface, the water still rippling out slightly.
"Here, do you wanna test it with your hand before you get in? That way, if you don't like it, we can fix it?"
Seeming a little bit more open to that idea, Girl nods, shakily reaching her hand out to hover the top of the water. Then, she braces herself, closing her eyes and stiffening as if preparing for a blow, before gingerly lowering her fingers until they break the surface. She tenses at the immediate contact, but as soon as she's able to feel the tepidness of the water, her eyes blink open again, her expression flooding with relief.
"Does it feel okay?" I ask gently. Girl nods, noticeably calmer now that she's sure the temperature won't hurt her. "Good. Do you want to get in now, doll? I can help you so you don't slip."
Turning to me, the child nods again. When I offer her my hand, she hesitantly accepts it, flinching slightly as I place my other hand on her shoulder to steady her, steadying her as she awkwardly lifts up one leg and shifts her body over into the tub. Carefully, I ease her down so that she's sitting. Her face has grown mild now, the warm water appearing to be soothing her sore body.
"There you go. That okay?" I ask. Girl looks up at me and nods.
"Warm," she breathes. "Feels good."
"Good," I say with a loving smile, grabbing the sponge from the tub-side along with the bottle of soap. Squirting out a decent amount onto the sponge, I pump it a few times in my hand to get the suds foaming. The little one watches me intently, her eyes wide with wonder. "Okay, sweetheart. I'm gonna use this sponge to wash you now; is that alright? I'll be very gentle, and if anything hurts you just tell me and I'll stop."
"Bubbles," she states innocently, pointing to the sponge.
"That's right," I smile at her. "Lots of bubbles."
Starting the sponge on her shoulders, Girl winces, not seeming too thrilled about the soft object, but at least tolerating it for now. "Have you blown bubbles with Peter yet?" I ask, trying to take her mind off of the cleaning as I move the sponge across her pale skin. She shakes her head. "You'll have to remind him to show you," I encourage her. "I'm pretty sure he has a bubble machine in his room."
Having finished with the front of her body, I shift my focus to her back, but quickly stop once her expression turns to one of great pain, tears beginning to spring from her eyes before I even know what's happened. "Hey," I coo quickly, not sure what went wrong, "you're okay it's okay. What's wrong, honey? Does something hurt? What're all these tears for?" I ask gently.
Girl bites down on her bottom lip, her eyes drooping miserably. The look on her face is one I know well: she isn't sure what she's allowed to say, so she's opting to not say anything. Which was probably a helpful survival mechanism when she was with Hydra, but currently isn't doing much to assist either of us.
"Does something hurt?" I ask carefully, rising up a little bit on my knees and peering over her to try to get a better look. At this, the child cowers, whimpering in fear.
"S-sorry," she stutters, her bottom lip trembling miserably.
Taking the sponge again, I run it as lightly as I can over the little girl's back, trying to find the area causing the issue. A writhe pulses through her body and I frown, removing the sponge and looking into the child's big green eyes. "Sure seems like it hurts to me, sweetheart," I murmur sympathetically, not wanting to scare her or make her think she's in any trouble.
"S-stings," Girl sniffles, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment as she admits to her discomfort.
Looking at the broad lash-markings running down her back, taking a gentle hand, brushing it over the tender flesh. Girl flinches, letting out another quiet whine. "Is it here, where these marks are?" I ask her. She nods. "Okay, darlin'. I'll make sure not to touch them. Can you tell me what happened?" I ask as I resume with the sponge, being extra intentional about avoiding the gashes. Given closer inspection, the lines themselves have notches to them, almost making it look like whatever she was struck with had some sort of blades or edges attached.
The small girl blinks her tears away, her body slightly shrinking in on itself, something she does consistently when asked difficult questions. After a few moments of hesitating, she finally gives an answer. "Wh-whip," she says, cowering slightly, as if the admission might get her in trouble.
Heart aching at the confirmation of my suspicions, I shake my head. "Oh doll, I'm so sorry. That looks like an awful nasty whip," I observe. "What are all the jagged edges from? Were there spikes on it or something?" Girl nods, and I sigh, left speechless at the sight. The atrocities that she endured seem to never end.
Once finished with her back, I scrub her arms, and then her legs. She stays perfectly still and quiet through the whole process, the only noise or movement being the occasional whimper or flinch in fear. When I'm done, I set the sponge back down on the side of the tub.
"Okay, Girl. I'm going to try washing your hair now," I tell her gently. Picking up the shampoo bottle, I open it with a click, drizzling the gel directly onto the child's damp mess of hair. Soon, the sweet aroma of crisp apples fills the air, and Girl inhales deeply, appearing to be fond the scent. When I reach out to begin working it into her hair, however, she jumps, looking up at me fearfully.
"Please- d-don't pull it," she begs.
"I won't pull it, I promise. I'll be as careful as I can," I promise.
"Don't pull it out, please don't," she continues to plead.
"Of course I won't, sweetie pie," I soothe. It seems that not a single part of her was left untouched or unharmed by her captors. "I'll be real gentle. And if it hurts, you just tell me, okay?" Girl nods nervously, probably not feeling like she has much of a choice.
Starting at the base of her hair, I gently massage my fingers against the child's scalp until the shampoo is distributed evenly along her whole head. She eventually leans in a bit during this process, causing me to smile at her warmly. As I continue to try to move the shampoo through her hair, I struggle with large knotted sections, doing my best to not tug or hurt the poor kid. Eventually, after a few rinses, I try adding the conditioner, but none of it helps; there are a few large clumps that simply refuse to come untangled.
"We might need to give you a haircut," I frown sadly. "There are some knots so big in here, I don't know if we can get them out."
"S-sorry," Girl mumbles guiltily. I shake my head.
"It's okay, sweetheart. It's not your fault. Nothing that happened to there you was ever your fault," I tell her sincerely
Once the shampoo and conditioner have been rinsed out of the child's mess of hair, I realize that we're done. Reaching down into the water, I pull out the plug, the bath slowly beginning to drain with a low gurgling noise. Girl looks at me with wide eyes as I take the towel from where I set it on the floor, opening it up in front of her.
"Okay, we're all done. Can you stand up for me, and I can wrap this around you?" Girl does as she's asked, shaking a little bit from the cold as I envelop her in the fluffy pink towel. After rubbing it across her body to try and get her at least somewhat dry, I move the plush fabric up to her head and pat it across her hair before wrapping her up in it again, offering her my hand to help her out of the tub.
Once the little girl's standing on the tile, I lean down and pick her up in my arms. She's startled at first, but quickly relaxes as I head out of the bathroom, shutting off the light behind me.
Setting her down on the bed, I move to the dresser. "Okay, Girl. Let's get you some new clothes, and some dry underwear, too." I pull out a white sweater with flowers on it, along with some plain black leggings, and a pair of underwear. Then, I return to the girl on the bed, unwrapping the towel and making sure she's dry. "Here, do you want me to look away and you can put on the clothes?" The child nods. Handing the clothes to her, I turn around, covering my eyes as promised.
I hear movement behind me, and after a few minutes, the girl's soft voice calls, "Done."
Turning back to Girl, I remove the wet towel from the bed beside her, setting it down on the floor. Taking a seat next to her, I run my hand over her hair gently. "Do you feel a little bit better?" She nods. "Good," I say. "I think-"
Before I can finish my sentence, the door bursts open from behind us without warning. Girl jumps as we both turn to see Natasha standing in the doorway, a panicked look on her face.
"Steve, quick. We have to move," the spy says.
"What's going on?" I ask, instantly growing worried.
Nat's eyes lock with mine, and the fear shining in them makes my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. "Security breach, internal. Someone's broken out."
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