Frost In Fire | S.Rogers

✪ CHAPTER FOUR ✪

"We're not alone, we share no stories"
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Chapter 4: Take me back

"What's your name?" Repeated the Lady, the question asked in such a casual manner that Brooklyn didn't even register the answer slipping from her tongue.

"My...I'm Brooklyn..." She answered quietly, eyeing the woman warily.

Natasha beamed, happy to have gotten a few more words out of the small child that had been insistent on not talking to anyone in the short time she had been at the facility.

"How old are you Brooklyn?" Asked Natasha again, voice soft and sweet. She wanted and needed the child to trust her if she was going to cooperate and answer all the questions Natasha desperately needed answers to.

"Um..." Brooklyn paused before holding up three fingers. "I'm four."

Natasha chuckled as she leaned over and brought up another one of her fingers, but despite her happy aura she was in a state of inner turmoil.

Four.

This girl was four years old and abandoned, left to freeze to death in the basement of an isolated shack that she presumed was her home. She had no-one, no mother and no real father.

It angered Natasha beyond belief when so many undeserving people in the filthy world were given the gift of having a small person to love and cherish, to teach morals to and protect from monsters under the bed.

It angered her further when she knew that she could never have one of her own, none with the person she would fall madly in love with, to retreat from the dangerous life of her past and present, just like her friend Clint, and live a happy life with her family whom she would protect with all she had.

She had nothing in her short life, no real family or friends, no-one to trust and ask money for when she needed, and no-one to ask her to watch their dog when they had to go somewhere.

The past couple years had been the best of her life.

She loved her son fiercely, and despite who had birthed him or owned him before, he was hers, and she would lay down her own life before anyone could hurt him in any way that mattered.

He was her family. Clint was her family. Heck, even Fury was a part of her inner circle, and just when Natasha thought she could have some peace, have a sense of normality, this poor little girl wound up in her arms.

When Natasha looked at Brooklyn, she saw herself.

An innocent child, ripped from her family, used for things she didn't know she possessed yet, and when no longer useful, left to fend for her own.

No, Natasha would never let another person turn into the darkness she saw in the puddles on a rainy night, or in the mirror while applying her enchanting make-up.

She cleared her throat, tried to swallow the blockade of fear and panic that was slowly rising, and smiled at Brooklyn who was staring at her inquisitively, almost asking silently why she had stopped.

"Wow, such a big girl eh?" Natasha joked, smiling at her.

Brooklyn shrugged, watching her legs that dangled from the chair she was sitting in sway back and forth, now fully expecting them to suddenly enlarge and grow.

She decided she didn't want to be a Big Girl very much.

Natasha knew she was failing at the interview. Brooklyn was too quiet, and she could feel a single bead of sweat trickle down the back of her neck as the people behind the glass spoke in hushed whispers into her ear. She had to get it whatever she was looking for deep down out of Brooklyn, or face any consequences for wasting Fury's time.