Frost In Fire | S.Rogers

✪ CHAPTER THREE ✪

"Everything is temporary, everything will slide"
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Chapter 3: Where am I?

" What are we going to do with her?"

The question was one that Nick Fury, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton had been thinking about for the past few days, the question harder than any maths problem Natasha had been asked to solve.

"She can't stay here." Fury said stoically upon observing Natasha's body language.

He knew she wanted the kid to stay.

"You let Nathan stay when he was younger, I don't see how this will be any different," Natasha spoke up from where she was leaning against the door frame, Clint watching the two carefully from the armchair he was sitting in, ankle over the another.

"Nathan is your Son."

"And She's someone's daughter, I don't see why it should be any different." Natasha scowled at him whilst she spoke.

"Claws away Romanoff." Fury spoke, walking casually over to the small cart that was at the side of the room, lifting a decanter and placing it on the table, picking up and observing the papers underneath it.

Unusual paperweight for important files, but Natasha couldn't talk.

"Fury, you let her keep Nathan-let me and Laura create a family-"

"Her Son, Barton," Fury spoke, placing both hands flat on the desk, looking up with one harsh eye, "Was meant to be nothing more than an asset to her mission. Agent Romanoff failed said mission by deciding to keep him. I have no problems with the Boy, I see great potential in him as a future Agent. But, I refuse to have my department turned into a Nursery."

"Funny," Natasha retorted, "Considering you're acting like a child on the naughty step right now." She scowled at him, Clint humming gently at her, a small reminder to keep her temper in check.

"The only 'Naughty Step' I see, Agent," Fury spoke, resting his hands on the table to look at Natasha in a more intimidating manner, "Is the one you're heading towards if you don't harden yourself up, Romanoff."

Natasha stayed silent, and Clint sighed, taking her silence as defeat.

"I'll ready up the papers, Director," Clint said, standing to grab Natasha's elbow gently for them to leave, "The girl will be sent to the nearest, and best orphanage New York has to offer."

He started heading for the door, hand still on Natasha's elbow, steering her, but she ripped her elbow free, sending Clint a look cold enough to re-freeze the melting ice of the Arctic when he tried to grab her again.

"There's something special about her, Director." She said, grabbing Fury's attention.

"Nat..." Clint warned gently, knowing how dangerous it was for Natasha when she got this invested into someone, how it gave her another vulnerability for someone to use against her.

He had seen it happen before, he knew it could happen again, and he knew he had to protect his friend.

"Don't 'Nat' me Clint," Natasha glared at him, turning towards Fury again, "There's something special about her, and not in a human way. There is something different about this girl. No one could've survived those cold conditions for that long, much less a young child, surely we ought to at least give her a chance?"

"I will not waste anymore-"

"Then let me do it." Nat interrupted again, eyes hard.

She was determined to not let another innocent life go to waste while she had the power to do something to help.

For once in Natasha's life, she could help.

Nick sighed, more to himself than to the other two. He didn't have anything against the child, he wanted her to have a good life to make up for her bad beginning, but he couldn't afford for his best Agents to get hurt.

One final look with Clint had Fury hesitantly nod at Natasha.

"Fine," He started, interrupting when Natasha began smirk-smiling, "But on the condition that if it turns out she is unable to be of any help to the compound, Clint is in charge of the relocation."

Nodding, almost with a silent triumph peeking over her left shoulder, Natasha walked briskly out of the office, deciding to take a shower before heading down to the Girl's room.

She debated bringing her son along with her, just as a sort of comfort for the child to have someone her age that was healthy and happy, but she soon decided against it, deciding that it was probably best to not test Fury anymore.

𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔𖥔

Brooklyn was confused.

She didn't remember much of the past few days, most of it had been sleeping, woken by a pretty old lady to be fed a couple spoons of something warm, and sleep again.

No-one had told her much of anything since she had finally felt the sun on her face, her memories a blur, her feelings non-existent. She no longer understood what to do, and no-one was doing anything except giving her encouraging smiles and whispering when her head was turned.

She wanted her Dad. Where was he?

Everyone was acting wary of her. The scary men dressed in crips clothes would prod her with cold rods, checking in her ears and her mouth. They would shine bright lights in her eyes that made her feel dizzy and helpless, unable to see for a short while. Others would come in and take pictures of her, lifting her shirt and rolling up her trousers to assess the places Daddy would wrap to keep her from falling off the table.

She felt small and alone.

She missed her Dad.

Hands under her chin, watching her foreign eyes dart in the big mirror that was facing the table she had been told to sit on, she waited, blowing a couple strands of hair and watching them fall for entertainment.

When could she go home?

The door suddenly opened, making Brooklyn sit up.

The door opened, and the familiar Lady she had hazy memories of, the one with the hair the same colour as Daddy's nose when he was sad, walked in, a kind smile on her face. Brooklyn wanted nothing more than to bury herself deep into the plastic chair.

She didn't like smiles from strangers. Where was her Dad?

The Lady sat in the chair in front of her, adjusting an almost invisible black blob better on her uniform. The two stared at each other for a couple minutes, not talking. Brooklyn took the time to scrutinise the Lady, who seemed to be in a trance-like state.

Brooklyn felt awkward, and she didn't like it. The Lady's lack of response was scaring her, and she could feel the familiar burn behind her eyes.

Suddenly the woman smiled again and cleared her throat. She mumbled something to herself and crossed her legs, straight back posture dropping, the movement so smooth she resembled the wafts of and flying through the window during a sandstorm Brooklyn had the rare opportunity to see.

"So..." The Lady started speaking, Brooklyn flinching from the harshness of her words in the silence she was accustomed to.

"What's your name?"

꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫꠫

Hey...how y'all doing...

I'm backkkkkkk, like the true Springtrap I am.

I'm soooooooo sorry for this long of a wait, just...just go read my apology on my profile...I'm sorry...

What do you think of this chapter? I hoooope you liked it, I really do, and another will be coming out in two days so please don't give up on me!

Stay safe!

Xx