The room front room has nothing, and the side room has a lot more nothing. The flash of his light, and he's skimming desks, and shelves, ratty piles on the floor and the few things on tables. Some of it legal, some of it entirely not, but no unexpected. None of screaming international terrorist. It's all two bit thug. Everywhere. Lowlife. Desperate. Bottom feeder in a small goldfish pond even.
But somehow this place is linked. He just needs how.
Even if each rooms turns up more nothing than the room before it.
Steve made it to the back room, again, shining a light on the bed pile on the floor. Wanting, but not expecting anything spectacularly new in the last room. Eyes open, assumptions back. Also. Not expecting the sudden clang of movement that had him turning to his side and shining a light on a door. Banged in. Taped to hell. Locked with a screwdriver of all crude things. Definitely not expecting the terrified little girl, under a waterfall of black, stringy hair when the door opened.
On a mission, sure. Not in Doran's bedroom. He was barely to the breath of surprise in before she was shaking and shuddering away, trying to crawl into the wall she was tied to, like there was any possible way to make herself smaller, tiny whimpering noises of fear rising up helplessly as Steve raised his hands. Trying to keep them open, to show her he wasn't here to hurt her. "It's okay."
"It's okay." He was reaching up to get the scissors kept so much higher than the low vantage point she been tied at. Like freedom was always within reach, but nothing she she could actually reach to. Or even see in the dark of that tiny locked closet. He was kneeling down, moving slow and steady toward her ties. "What's your name?"
Which was when he noticed she was still staring at him, eyes blow like saucers still made all of fear and absolutely with nothing like understanding that she'd been found, saved, rescued, was anything like safe. That she was going to be taken from this place, even if he and anyone after him couldn't take from her whatever had been done to her.
He tries a different tactic. Quiet, focused, "Ni zhao shenme mingzi?"
Watches her stir with a kind of recognition that is both fear and almost even more terrifying, hope, before she's saying her name quietly back. With the kind of face Steve could recognize world over, and hates seeing on kids. It's the first moment he's actually glad Doran is on the dirt, dead and bleeding. Because no one who does anything like this to kids should be breathing.
"Chen Chi," he repeats quiet and firm still. No sudden movements for himself or her. Saying her name again, and adding, "Gen wo lai." Only to see it flash, again. That sudden terrifying horror at her eyes. Like those words might mean something entirely else, and for another, second second, dead in the dust, bleeding out, really isn't good enough. Not for the possible things this little girl has been through right here. Possibly in this little room, or on that bed.
And as much as he hates that Danny killed him, he's glad with fierce briefness, too. It doesn't help him, but it might help her.
Which is better than nothing when he's repeating it once more, and reaching in to help her stand, keeping his hands on her arms and shoulders only. Treating her with the clear and plain, open movements. Careful to not do more than end up with a hand at her shoulders once she's standing, shivering as shes looking around but only too glad to start making for the broken front of the house and its door.
When he's gotten her halfway down the stairs, before he's calling out, "I need a medic over here."
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2014-01-19 04:36 am (UTC)But somehow this place is linked. He just needs how.
Even if each rooms turns up more nothing than the room before it.
Steve made it to the back room, again, shining a light on the bed pile on the floor. Wanting, but not expecting anything spectacularly new in the last room. Eyes open, assumptions back. Also. Not expecting the sudden clang of movement that had him turning to his side and shining a light on a door. Banged in. Taped to hell. Locked with a screwdriver of all crude things. Definitely not expecting the terrified little girl, under a waterfall of black, stringy hair when the door opened.
On a mission, sure. Not in Doran's bedroom. He was barely to the breath of surprise in before she was shaking and shuddering away, trying to crawl into the wall she was tied to, like there was any possible way to make herself smaller, tiny whimpering noises of fear rising up helplessly as Steve raised his hands. Trying to keep them open, to show her he wasn't here to hurt her. "It's okay."
"It's okay." He was reaching up to get the scissors kept so much higher than the low vantage point she been tied at. Like freedom was always within reach, but nothing she she could actually reach to. Or even see in the dark of that tiny locked closet. He was kneeling down, moving slow and steady toward her ties. "What's your name?"
Which was when he noticed she was still staring at him, eyes blow like saucers still made all of fear and absolutely with nothing like understanding that she'd been found, saved, rescued, was anything like safe. That she was going to be taken from this place, even if he and anyone after him couldn't take from her whatever had been done to her.
He tries a different tactic. Quiet, focused, "Ni zhao shenme mingzi?"
Watches her stir with a kind of recognition that is both fear and almost even more terrifying, hope, before she's saying her name quietly back. With the kind of face Steve could recognize world over, and hates seeing on kids. It's the first moment he's actually glad Doran is on the dirt, dead and bleeding. Because no one who does anything like this to kids should be breathing.
"Chen Chi," he repeats quiet and firm still. No sudden movements for himself or her. Saying her name again, and adding, "Gen wo lai." Only to see it flash, again. That sudden terrifying horror at her eyes. Like those words might mean something entirely else, and for another, second second, dead in the dust, bleeding out, really isn't good enough. Not for the possible things this little girl has been through right here. Possibly in this little room, or on that bed.
And as much as he hates that Danny killed him, he's glad with fierce briefness, too. It doesn't help him, but it might help her.
Which is better than nothing when he's repeating it once more, and reaching in to help her stand, keeping his hands on her arms and shoulders only. Treating her with the clear and plain, open movements. Careful to not do more than end up with a hand at her shoulders once she's standing, shivering as shes looking around but only too glad to start making for the broken front of the house and its door.
When he's gotten her halfway down the stairs, before he's calling out, "I need a medic over here."