Her Prisoner

Chapter 4

Romanoff has been missing for several days, and as much as Steve shouldn't care about her absence, it doesn't leave him indifferent either. He wouldn't go as far as saying that he misses her, but he could admit that the past few days have been a little heavier. Greyer. Duller. He has never felt more trapped than at this moment and he can now see how her presence did help to alleviate his solitude.

His eyes often look up expectantly at the door when he hears someone approaching on the other side. He does it again today. The door opens and he's already picturing her feline silhouette entering the room. Except it isn't her.

"Good afternoon, Captain." The voice calls sheepishly.

"Hello, Dimitri." Steve's muscles relax as he settles back in his seat.

"I hope I am not interrupting you, Captain," the young agent says with a thick Russian accent.

Steve closes the book he was reading and purses his lips. "No. I have all the time in the world now. Too much time."

"I thought I could keep you company like agent Romanoff does."

Steve probes him quietly. He doesn't know whether he should appreciate the young man's gesture or be offended to be seen as a puppet that needs distraction whilst the one in charge of entertaining him is away.

"It's all right," he says. But Dimitri is already seated at the table with a shy smile on, wordlessly begging him to accept his invitation. "Please, Captain. It would give me a chance to practice my English."

Steve watches him then nods. Dimitri isn't the worst company to have after all. The young man nervously runs a hand in his light blonde hair then smiles upon seeing Steve's approving nod.

"Agent Romanoff will be back soon. Tomorrow." Steve shrugs nonchalantly without a word. Tomorrow isn't so far away.

"What is she doing?" he asks coolly.

Dimitri shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I can't say." His eyes nervously dread his reaction. "I don't know myself," he promptly adds.

He reaches towards the end of the table. "I reckon you two usually play chess. I can do it."

Steve's chest stiffens. He instinctively leans in and pushes the untouched board farther away. Playing chess is heir thing. It is silly — he knows it — but he doesn't want to play with anyone else.

Dimitri sits back and stares awkwardly, like a child who would have been grounded without really knowing what he has done wrong.

"How old are you?" Steve asks, changing topic.

"22 years old."

It suddenly strikes Steve that his features are indeed younger than he had gaged.

"What made you want to join the army?"

"I...I wanted to serve my country and be a hero," he lowers his voice. "Like you."

"I don't think you're supposed to be telling me that. If somebody knew..."

"Agent Romanoff does," he defends.

Steve arches an eyebrow. "And what does she think about it?"

"She assigned me, here. She trusted me to attend to my duty diligently."

"How long have you two known each other?"

"Quite some time. She trained me. Everything I learned, I owe it to her."

"Sounds like strong devotion," Steve comments.

"Not devotion," Dimitri asserts matter-of-factly. "Admiration."