RESURRECTION OVERTURE ▹ barnes-romanoff

eleven.

Who is the real you?
The person who did something awful?
Or the one who's horrified by the awful things you did?
Is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?

"Steve!" Sam calls out as he pushes open the warehouse door enough for both him and Svetlana to pass through.

"Sam! Svet!

The place is dark and rather damp feeling, covered in thick layers of dust and dirt from years of disuse. Boards and old machinery lie scattered all over the place as Svet ducks underneath Sam's arm to pass through. She gnaws on her bottom lip, glancing around the cold place with a wary expression. Her caution only dissipates when a tall and blonde man suddenly appears out of one of the large entryways of the warehouse, his blonde brows pressed down and his face concerned for the small redhead that jogs for him. The two simultaneously release sighs of relief at the sight of the other.

Steve just gets in a few steps before the fifteen year old crashes into him, wrapping her arms around his broad chest and hugging him. Steve can't help but be a little bit surprised by her embrace, but he holds her back tightly all the same. It's strange how badly he wants to protect the small girl clinging to him; how badly he wants to make sure she's not hurt, not alone, not scared.

"Hey, hey, are you okay?" Steve pulls back from her and rests his hands on both of her boney shoulders, looking her over.

"Yes, yes." She nods and swallows thickly before she pushes her hair behind her ears, "Sam's arm might be a bit sore, but I'm fine."

Steve glances back at the other man in confusion. Sam just rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly, waving off the girl's comment. The man's not overly thrilled a bruise in the shape of a baby fist is showing up on the skin of his arm.

"Are you sure?" Steve crouches down to be a bit more at her height.

With a distracted nod, Svetlana carefully steps around Steve while her small feet slowly take her towards the entryway that Steve walked out of. She knows who lies beyond that threshold; she can always tell when her father is close. The two men behind her wince and follow after her protectively, worried for the girl to see the unconscious state her father has been left in. But they don't stop her. They don't even try.

Svetlana rests one of her small hands on the cement frame when she comes to a stop, letting out a heavy and pained breath at the sight before her. Her father is slumped over and his dark hair is messily falling over his gruff face. His metal arm is stuck within a large black clamp, holding him in place in case he's still the monster. The sight makes Svet feel nearly sick to her stomach. She blinks quickly against the sting in her eyes and the guilt in her heart. A firm hand rests on her shoulder and she glances back to see Steve stepping closer to her, giving her a comforting expression.

"Why don't we get you cleaned up, huh?" He speaks the words a little more carefully than he should, not exactly sure how well she's able to read lips.

"No. I can't leave him." Svet shakes her head firmly and she looks back over at her papa; her fingers bending a little tighter over the corner frame as she whispers, "He needs me."

"I'll watch him, Slugger." Sam nudges her shoulder and crosses his arms over his gray-covered chest, nodding at the slouched man, "He's not going anywhere."

Svet swallows hard before letting out a conceding sigh. Steve stretches a hand out to her and she reluctantly takes it, walking with the much taller man towards the other side of the warehouse. The fifteen year old once more gnaws down on her lip when she glances back over her shoulder, watching Sam take an offensive position in the entryway.