Can't Catch a Shadow

"Who are you?!" Hetalia demanded. "Why are you following me?!"

The man, whose face was now clearly lit, held up his hands in a defensive stance. "It's okay," he said calmly, English accent being a little more than distracting. "My name is Andre. I'm the warden's son. I just wanted to make sure that nobody got in your way."

Hetalia wrapped her arms around her body self consciously. "You were...trying to protect me?"

Andre nodded and let his hands fall down the his side, taking a few steps closer. "Of course. I pity those that have to spend their lives here."

The eight year old adjusted her tank top and looked down at her boots. "Why did you tell me not to bathe?"

"I'm not saying that at all. You just can't take off your clothes. It's a sign to everyone that you're looking for sex."

"Even if I scream?" she asked. "Even if I resist?"

"Some people here pretend to be raped so they can hold their illusions of innocence."

She shuddered and sat down on the ground. "I would not enjoy that."

Andre sat down next to her. "I can't imagine you would. What's your name?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "My name is Hetalia. I'm eight years old."

He nodded. "I'm 16," he paused and looked at the lake in front of him. "So what brings you to The Cage?"

Hetalia shrugged. "YA ne znayu," she replied. "I was taken by your father because of my father."

"Who is your father?"

Hetalia could feel the tears well up in her eyes and shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

Andre nodded and stood up. "To each their own. Go ahead and bathe, just remember to keep an eye out for others."

Hetalia nodded, giving him a small smile as he walked away into the shadows.

****

Hetalia had been in The Cage for five years without fail. In that time, Kari had been diagnosed as a schizophrenic and started some kind of medication treatment that made her slightly more manic, but controlled the appearances of her 'angels.' Andre had come to visit Hetalia almost everyday, soon becoming her best friend. He helped her with her training and with trying to be a kid, but every now and again, The Cage got the best of both of them. Some days, Andre would not be able to even look at her. Other days, Hetalia wouldn't even be able to get out of bed after a day of being abused.

But today was one of those days where they were both able to meet up at the small lake. "Hey," he said smoothly, as per usual. "How are you feeling today?"

The thirteen year old shrugged. "Better than before."

She plopped herself down next to him, letting her bare feet slip into the clear water. "How about you?" she asked. "How are you today?"

He shrugged and put a hesitant arm around her shoulders. "Much better now."

She nuzzled his shoulder and inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. "I was thinking about my family last night."

"What about them?"

She sat up straight and cleared her throat to try and dislodge the lump in her throat. "I miss them. I miss my sister and my father. The sad thing is that I won't be able to see either of them ever again."

"Why not?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"My sister is training in a different country and my father was killed by your father."

Andre's face fell. "I didn't know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. My father was the King of Spies."

"You're a Romanoff?!" he exclaimed quietly. "I never would've guessed! Your sister is Natasha, right?"

The ginger nodded. "Da. She is with Glendayle."

Andre nodded. "So I've been told. I'm really sorry to hear about that."

"It's okay. If nothing else, this place has given me something else to think about."

****

Andre sat in his father's office overlooking the compound. "I'm getting old, Andre," his father said quietly. "But not old enough not to notice what's going on."

"What do you mean, father?"

Miguel Kerchef stood and walked over to his son. "The guards told me that you've been hanging around one of the prisoners."

"I hang around a lot of the prisoners. Most of them are harmless."

"You know which one I'm talking about. Hetalia. The Romanoff."

Andre shrugged, finally meeting his father's eyes. "What's so wrong with that?"

"To start, Andre, she's a prisoner. You can't simply fall in love with one of the-"

"In love?" Andre repeated in disbelief. "Who told you I was in love with her?"

"One of the guards, but it does not matter."

"It does matter, father! So what if I am in love with her?"

The warden shook his head. "She's not right for you. She's unpredictable, uncatchable, and untraceable. I wouldn't mess with that if I were you."

Andre hung his head as his father, coughing and wheezing returned to his desk to file some reports. So what if he was in love with her? Not saying he was, but what if? Where in the rules did it say that the son of a warden and a prisoner couldn't hit it off?

Then it hit him. She would be trapped here forever. If nothing else, that would certainly get in the way.