Thank the Lord this book has reappeared on Wattpad! It disappeared for a while, my dear readers, but now it is back and so am I with another chapter! I really hope you like this one! Tell me your thoughts! I love hearing from you!

A scream comes first.

It's always the screams that come first.

And then twenty-eight bodies cut their movements across the dance floor; the number of dancing girls begins to decrease as more bloodied bodies drop and litter the floor.

A girl clenches her small fists around the armrests of a metal chair, stomping her dancing feet to the ground as she continues to scream, "Release me! Please, please, please! Make this stop!"

A child with red hair spins on the tips of her toes, feeling her raised hands shake with the power she forces into them.

"Again."

The girls keep their heads bowed as the ballet master stalks in front of their lines, darkly glaring at each and every one of them.

She cuts along, lifting and bowing and leaping in furious motions until she falls to the wooden floor.

"Again."

The ballet master slaps the girl nearest to him harshly across the face.

She falls back in her chair, her head smacking down against the wooden floor as she is brought from the gray and hazy daze.

The scream comes again.

As it always does.

The child keeps her eyes closed as she feels the music begin rumbling the earth underneath her pointe shoes.

The entire mansion begins trembling with the force of the symphony.

Lights flash as a poison is drained into the veins of children and a metal disk is pressed to their foreheads.

"Release me! Let me out! Let me out!" the voice screams louder and louder until it splits the ears of those that can hear.

The red haired girl's motions are sharp and unforgiving as she steps forward and forward, swaying her head back as she curls around.

The scream continues on, matching the intensity of the symphony that shakes the entire world.

And then the world explodes like glass shards and the redhead is alone in a gray room, screaming and dancing and screaming and dancing.

It just won't end.

"You're safe, eto konets, it's over. You're safe, Svetla, ty so mnoy. Safe, I promise," the voice hurriedly whispers as two arms, one metal and one flesh, hold onto her tightly. It's over. You're with me.

Bucky gently rocks the whimpering girl he has cocooned in his arms, whispering reassurances to her over and over until she is certain of the truth. She whispers things back, but they're much too quiet to understand and something tells the man that she doesn't quite know what she is saying either. Her whole little form is shaking so badly that he struggles to hold her still, worried that she's going to hurt her already bruised skin more. The remnants of what the guards did to her back in HYDRA still remain and the last thing she needs is to add more wounds to the collection.

Svet holds her knees to her chest and her face buried into them, gnawing down onto her lip so much that blood begins to change the flavor of her mouth. She feels the vibrations of her papa's voice as he continues trying to console her as he has been each night she wakes up with this same nightmare. Bucky knows he can't do much more than he's already doing; after all, he has the nightmares too. There is not much one can do to stop them; his own nightmares are enough to break him. He doesn't usually like touching little Svet, fearful of somehow losing himself to the Soldier once more and hurting her. But being held by him is the only thing that seems to comfort her. So, he does all that he knows to, he just continues rocking her, not wanting her to feel frightened or alone.

"No, no, I don't remember that, listen," her breathy words suddenly become clear, "That's not here. I see things I don't, don't, don't remember. I told them no, no, it's not, I don't want that, no," she hardly makes sense as she mutters on.

Her father readjusts her against him, allowing the girl to bury her face further into his chest, "Okay, Svetka, tishe seychas, eto bezopasno." Hush now, it's safe.

He keeps his back against cement wall behind them, never allowing his eyes to stray long from the door he's attempted to barricade closed. It wasn't easy finding a room that they could hide away in without anyone taking notice. The one they did find was in the ghetto where drunk and smoking men laid in the yellow-green toned hallways and women walked by wearing too much perfume, too much makeup, and not enough clothing.

It was instinct that told him to pick Svet up and hold her to him as they walked through the dark ghetto streets of Germany and eventually into the crumbling apartment building. He didn't like the way everyone had looked at them, watching them as if they were little beings to gobble up and spit out. With HYDRA potentially lurking in every shadow and criminals lining the walls, he hasn't been able to sleep even for a moment since entering the place five hours ago.

It's better that way, anyhow.

He can't risk anyone sneaking up on them.

He can't risk going back... they would never find their way out again.

Svet pulls him back from his thoughts when she gasps for air, struggling to pull in enough as she continues to shake in fear.

"What can I do?" Bucky whispers to the girl, helplessness seeping into his tone, "What can I do to make it better?"

Svet pulls her knees closer to her chest, pushing her face into the space between his shoulder and neck.

"Huh?" Bucky gently touches the girl's pale cheek, trying to get her to focus on his words and not her nightmare, "Tell me what I can do."

She sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm down, hating herself for being so frightened, "I d-don't know. M-Maybe tell-tell me a story?"

"Oh." Bucky responds quietly, mentally cursing himself.

When he asked if there was anything he could do, he didn't exactly mean that. Stories? He doesn't know any stories! He knows tactics and target names and languages, not stories that have the power to make a child feel safe after a frightening dream.

His face darkens as he struggles to come up with something, "A man,"

"What was the man's name?" Svet interrupts with a sniffle, slowly coming back to life again.

"He doesn't have a name." Bucky answers curtly.

Svet bites onto her torn up lip, shyly drawing a circle on the top of her knee, "Like me?"

The father glances down at her with a dark expression that anyone else would find frightening, "No. Not like you. You have a name."

"Yeah..." her voice sounds sadly disbelieving before she asks in a happier tone, "Can we name him Christopher?"

"Sure." Bucky shrugs, scratching his forehead that is covered in his dark hair, "Christopher went on a trip to Brooklyn," strange that was the city he chose, "And he saw a lot of things."

"What things, Papa?"

Images flash in the man's mind and he jerks as they invade his thoughts. There's a bridge stretched out against a pale blue sky. There's a park where two young kids played baseball. There's a movie theater where old tapes played and people laughed and they cried. He winces at the pain of it all and his arms tighten around the girl a little more as if this will stop the aching in his mind.

"I don't know." He suddenly speeds up, just trying to come to the end of the little tale, "The man,"

"Christopher."

"Right. I forgot. Christopher ate some food and then he went on a boat which made him seasick," Svet nods in sympathetic understanding, "and-and then he... died. The, uh, end. I guess."

There's an odd silence that stretches on between the two, the only sound being the girl's sniffling that grows a little louder. Bucky winces at himself, wishing her could just tear his own tongue out. Of course the story he told her to cheer her up had to be one where the main character died. Of course! God, he is horrible at this.

She pats on his chest to catch his attention, saying thoughtfully as she cocks her head to the side, "You aren't a very good story teller. I'll have to remember that."

He frowns down at her once more, "Sorry."

She yawns, settling back into his chest as her eyelids grow heavy, "I liked it. It was strange and sort of scary, but I liked it."

Bucky puffs a near laugh, not responding as he presses his spine back against the cement wall again.

"Maybe," she hums out tiredly, mostly asleep as she finishes the rest of her sentence, "next time, I'll tell you a story."

He nods and smirks a little, allowing himself the luxury of pushing her red bangs from her forehead, "I'd like that."

♛♛♛

When Svet wakes up in the morning, little shards of light are pouring in through the boarded windows and the room feels a little chilly from the morning air that follows in after the sunshine. Her small hands curl into fists and she rubs her sandy sleepy eyes, her mouth stretching open into a long yawn. Her brows suddenly furrow as she realizes that she is no longer resting on something warm and comfortable but rather cold and flat. She rolls up from her back and lands on her knees, glancing around to find a broad backed figure standing on the other side of the room. His shoulders are moving and he appears to be doing something that seems to have something near to his full attention, although he does periodically glance to the doorway where chairs have been stacked up.

"Papa?" Svet asks in confusion, staying perched on her kneecaps.

Bucky suddenly turns around, holding a black metal pot and a metal spoon that he found scattered around in the disaster. Svet suddenly sniffs, scrunching her nose as she tries to figure out the smell. It smells... burning. It smells like something's burning.

"I, uh," Bucky offers a bit of a sheepish smile, tipping the pot down for her to view, "cooked breakfast. The neighbor was in the giving mood."

They both know that last bit is entirely false, but Svetlana can't really focus on that as her attention is caught on the pot that is full of black bits of... something. She can't really tell what it is.

The thirteen year old coughs and waves her hand in front of her face, staring at the white haze wafting around them, "Is this smoke?"

"Uh." Bucky looks around with a cringe, "Yeah, I mean, I think the food's still okay though."

Svet pushes herself up and she flops around in Bucky's socks, mirroring a little duck as she moves closer to him. She grabs onto his hand, pulling it down so that she can get a better view of the food inside the pot. Her eyes squint at the mess he's made and she resists a wince as the smell gets worse. She does a quick glance up at her father who is looking down at the contents of the pot with a blank expression, his metal forefinger tapping the edge of the dish.

Svet suddenly stretches up onto her tiptoes, taking the spoon from his other hand before scraping it down into the food that can hardly pass as breakfast. She looks him straight in the eye as she spoons the black bits into her mouth. Her left eye twitches a little as she crunches harshly down onto one particularly hard bite before she continues chopping, giving a stretched smile and a thumbs up.

"Mmm, good!" she stretches the words out and eagerly nods, bouncing on her toes enthusiastically.

What an adorable little liar.

Bucky's mouth curves into a flat smile as he watches her with disbelieving and raised eyebrows, "Good?"

"De-licious!"

They stare at each other for a moment, him towering over her as the beams of light radiate their faces. Svet innocently rocks back on her heels and swings her hands back and forth, still munching down onto the food that just won't seem to break apart or dissolve. Bucky continues to watch her with a disbelieving expression, his lips now forming a frown instead of the amused smile from before. The moment stretches on before Bucky snatches the spoon from her, taking in a bite of his own. His face immediately twists up in disgust as the burnt bits touch his tongue.

He scrunches his nose and gives her a look, pointing the spoon into the pot, "This is horrible."

She quickly shakes her head, "No! No, it is..." he blinks at her with an unimpressed expression, "the worst I've ever had."

Bucky rolls his eyes in concession, nodding a little.

Svet breaks into a fit of giggles, dropping her hands to her mouth in an effort to stop herself.

Her father squints down, not entirely smiling but certainly not frowning either, "This is funny?"

"A little!" She freely gives a smile, clasping her hands behind her back as she gives a very astute nod.

"We'll see who's laughing when they have nothing to eat, then," Bucky gives her a funny face, sitting down and forcing himself back into the food.

Svet giggles again, crouching down and resting her elbows on her knees so she can peer at him. Bucky doesn't look up at her as he continues to force himself to eat the food that tastes of coal. With another giggle, the thirteen year old twists up and begins spinning around the room. She holds her hands out on either side of her and she lifts up on her toes as she spins and spins. Bucky glances at the doorway again, making sure everything is still alright before he heaves a breath and continues eating.

The girl suddenly tries to come to a stop, making him look up at her as she struggles to not to slip in the socks she's wearing. When she's finally still again, Svetlana slowly raises up her hand to cut in the way of the beam of the light splintering in through the window. It's as if she can feel the warmth on her skin and she grins. She turns back around to face the opposite wall, wiggling her fingers so she can watch the shadows move along with her. She glances over her shoulder to Bucky with wide eyes that seem to ask, 'have you seen this?!' Bucky quickly nods to the girl, promising he's seen how to control shadows before.

Bucky glances back at the doorway again, having already been formulating their plan. He doesn't want to stay in any countries bordering the Atlantic. It would be much too easy for anyone to find them there, once they realize they're not in America. They need to go inland, perhaps to Ukraine or Romania, a place where they both know the language. There they can burrow down and disappear within the crowds of people, maybe finally finding the peace and quiet in order to get his brain right. If he can't piece his mind together, then he's not certain they'll be able to make it.

And there is no other option than for Svet to make it.

He will have to find a few small jobs here and there so he can provide. After all, Svet can't wear his socks, a stolen pair of brown boots, and her dirtied clothes from D.C. forever. She'll need clothes, not to mention the fact that he'll have to get books and other things so she can learn beyond what he's taught her. They could hide away like that for years. Svet could be be in her twenties by the time they had to move around again. She needs that; she needs something at least somewhat stable.

"Papa,"

Bucky looks back over at her as she calls his name.

"My hair keeps falling into my face. Can you," her eyebrows scrunch and lips pucker in thought, "What did Natasha call it? Oh, braid!" she looks over at him with her puppy dog eyes, "Can you braid my hair?"

"Well," Bucky blinks and shakes his head a little, "I don't think,"

Before he can finish, the little girl plops herself down onto his lap and nods quickly, "Go ahead. I'm ready."

Bucky opens his mouth to once again argue, but the look of anticipation on her face makes him swallow back any words he might have said. He simply resists a huff and grits his teeth, tossing his own mess of hair out of his face. He frowns at his daughter's mess of red hair, carefully picking up various locks of it. He doesn't know how to braid! His brows twist in frustration as he tries to get his seemingly useless fingers into braiding her hair. He has to start over a few times before he begins something that at least gets her hair from her eyes.

"Papa..."

He doesn't reply, waiting for her to go on.

"I have something," she rubs her index finger along the cold floor, scowling down at it as if that was the thing that wronged her, "Something to, um," her face scrunches as she tries to remember the English words, "izvinit'sya za." Apologize for.

Bucky blinks a few times, his brown brows bending as he continues her hair, "Apologize for? What do you have to apologize for?"

Svet's finger begins to rub the ground a little harder, "In the R-Red Room," Bucky's face darkens, the memories of losing her to the guards slowly fighting their way back to him, "they did... bad things to me."

A shiver curls its way up through his spine and, when he pulls his hands from her hair, he finds that they are trembling with anger. He shifts his body so that he can see her a little more, his jaw becoming rigid and his shoulders tightening as he thinks of all of the horrific things they could have done to her.

"What bad things, Sveta?" his voice is soft as stares into her downcast blue eyes, "What'd they do to you?"

She suddenly becomes very quiet, still gnawing on her raw bottom lip and rubbing her rather suddenly stinging nose. She's afraid to tell the rest of her story and he knows that cannot be a good thing.

"Svetlana," Bucky grinds out her name, his voice suddenly becoming hard and perhaps even a little harsh as he nudges her foot with his, "What bad things?"

Her big blue eyes are filled with regret and apology as she bounces uncomfortably, whispering, "I didn't stop them. I didn't even try to stop them at all."

He doesn't respond, hardly breathing as worry takes over his expression.

Svet struggles to swallow, pushing her hand up to her heart that is aching with the guilt and the shame, "I don't kn-know the name of what bad thing it was. It hurt. And I was scared. Madame said it was," her lip quivers and roughly rubs her nose again, "Madame said it was to make me better, stronger, freer." She looks up at him with tearing eyes, "Papa, there isn't going to be anybody after me."

Bucky's face pulls back in pain as he slowly realizes what she means.

They sterilized her.

They sterilized his little Svetka.

They took a child, who was practically still a baby, and made it so she could never have any babies of her own one day.

They hurt her in a way that she can never heal from.

After the pain, it is the anger he feels next; anger for what they did to his child. What a horrific experience for anyone to go through and for someone so young and alone to have it forcibly done to her, it's absolutely sickening. He looks past the girl, glaring at the floor a few feet away. Maybe he should have gone back to the Academy after they escaped HYDRA, taught them a lesson instead of allowing them to get away with what they did to her. They shouldn't have gotten away with it!

The guilt comes next; guilt that he wasn't there to protect her from them, guilt that he couldn't stop them from taking her. He, at times, struggles to remember the little moments that split up his sins, but he can remember her screaming for him. He can remember that she begged for him before they took away. And he couldn't save her.

"I'm sorry," Svet hiccups, rubbing her running nose once more.

Bucky turns his torn gaze back upon her, asking in confusion, "Sorry? How could you possibly be sorry?"

She nods sharply, still whispering in shame, "It's just me. No more Barnes. You'll never have anybody else..." she looks utterly miserable as she rubs her face hard, "because of me."

"Sveta," Bucky chides, "No. That is not your fault."

"YA ne ostanovil ikh." I didn't stop them.

"I'm not angry with you. Is that what you're afraid of?"

Her bottom lip quivers as she watches him with wide eyes, "You're not?"

"No. I'm not." He responds firmly, "I don't need anybody else. I shouldn't have you, but I'm lucky enough to," a little smile breaks through her teary red cheeks, "What they did was horrible and despicable. Eto ne tvoya vina." It wasn't your fault.

"I should have stopped them," she whispers, shaking her head in disgust of herself.

He carefully wipes away her tears, ducking lower so he can be at her level, "The Madame and all the rest were going to do what they did whether you fought or not. Maybe not fighting spared you more pain."

She helps him wipe away the tears that still fall, nodding faintly.

"Come here," Bucky gently lifts Svet up, tucking her into his arms once more.

They each stare off into different directions as thoughts of the horrible still linger. Neither of them speak, but there isn't a need for them to. They stay seated on the concrete floor in perfect silence but for their breathing. Their ocean and sky eyes are thick with memories that hang over them like clouds yet the pair still looks soft and warm underneath the light that shines in from all around them. In the sunlight, with all of the darkness around them, the father and daughter look nearly unearthly.

And maybe it is a dream for how things will be one day, when all of the running has come to an end, when their family is made whole, for when the bad things will be put to rest, the villains will fall away, and the nightmares will finally leave for good.

Maybe it is a promise.

I low key don't like that ending at all, but I hope you did! We had both fluff and sad in there, but with these two it is to be expected, wouldn't you say? What do you think of the cutesy Bucky and Svet moments? First breakfast? Hair braiding? I have a list of things I want these two to experience and I can't tell you how hard it was for me to not just throw all of my plans up in one place. And how about Bucky learning the truth about what happened to Svet? Oh, my heart.

I hope Bucky seems like Bucky to you, but he is going to be a little more vocal and different with Svet than he would be with anyone else because it's his daughter so I hope that makes sense (I was just concerned).

VOTE, COMMENT, AND FOLLOW!

Funny Thingamabob:

Oh my dear Steve - seriously excited for some Uncle STEEB scenes, aren't you?