She's Afraid and Forgotten - Winter Soldier

Coming Home To You

Past:

The day is cold, like it usually is. Small frosty flakes float into the gloomy cell, peacefully glinting in the dim light. 

In the corner, a small girl sits with an obviously well used pencil, the tip centimetres away from the worn down eraser. She hums a made up tune to herself, doing her best to keep warm with a tattered blue blanket. 

Her fingers, icy cold to the touch, clench tightly around the pencil when the sound of clanking fills the room. She flips around, nervously waiting for the person to enter. 

It couldn't be her papa, right? ' He's still away. ' She anxiously awaits for the door to swing open. 

Finally it does. With a loud cry, the door opens to reveal a tightly bundled man. Giant, compared to the cowering girl. 

" Doll, it's okay. It's me. " A gruff mumbled voice fills the room. 

Without hesitating, the young girl launches herself at the man. Her blanket falls around her feet, letting the cold bitter air nip at her skin. She doesn't mind, all that matters is her papa is home. 

She tightly squeezes her arms around the mans' waist, letting out a small squeal of excitement. The days without her papa are lonely, definitely not a great environment for the young girl. 

The man sets down a small bag before picking up the child. His heart pounds with relief, a small, nearly unnoticeable smile settling on his lips. He holds the girl close to his chest, allowing her to burrow herself into his chest. A warm feeling settles in his body, one only a few years ago he had never felt before. 

" You're cold. " He states with slight concern. The touch of her skin is icy, raising alarm in his mind. 

The soldier moves to the bed, sitting down with the girl nestled in his lap. He picks up her tiny blanket, wrapping it around her. He gently removes his stained, thick jacket, before placing it over the two of them. 

The girl curls up tighter, relief flooding her body. " I missed you papa. " 

" I missed you too, D. " More than he cares to admit. He hates being away from the child, an unfamiliar feeling. No one had ever relied on him before. Cared for him. Loved him. Not before he met Dorothea. 

Now his mind is flooded with worry when he's forced to leave her. Will she be alive when he gets home? It's a deadly game. He's the puppet of an angry army with no choice in the say of what happens to his child. 

His child. 

He never thought he would've been a father. A papa. 

Not before meeting Dorothea. She'd grown on him, sparking a new form of protectiveness. Before Dorothea, Bucky had been careless. After all, his life didn't matter. He wasn't truly a person. He wasn't living. He had a job and that was the only thing he was needed for. He could be replaced any day. If he died, they'd have a new soldier in a matter of days. He wasn't special. 

Now, his life is important. He's needed. If something were to happen to him, his child would undoubtedly be tortured and murdered. He has someone depending on him. What a foreign feeling. 

Dorotea's breaths grow slow from sleep. The soldier watches as his baby peacefully sleeps, a protective arm holding her tight. 

" For as long as I'm alive, I will always come back to you. "