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When Steve returned home to his D.C. apartment after weeks of searching for the Winter Soldier the last thing he expected to find was the man himself sitting calmly at Steve’s kitchen table. Nevermind, the last last thing he expected to find was the Winter Soldier sitting calmly at his kitchen table accompanied by a scrawny, terrified young woman who appeared to be clinging to the soldier’s arm for dear life.
***
They discovered the soulmark while the asset was being stripped and prepped for cryo following a mission. The string of loopy letters started at the crease of his right elbow and followed the curve of his bicep toward his armpit. Sarah Elizabeth Andrews . The technician who spotted it leered with obnoxious amusement.
“Well, well, well,” he said, running his fingers across the letters. The asset accepted the touch without any physical response. The handlers could touch the asset however they wished. The asset did not have a right to bodily autonomy. “Does the asset think he’s a real boy, now?”
The other techs noticed the exchange and stared at the soulmark with wide eyes. The first man turned to them and laughed, “Maybe we’ll make a little Winter Mistress for our Winter Soldier!”
They all laughed. The asset hung his head and stared at the unfamiliar script now imprinted onto his inner arm. He lifted his metallic fingers and traced them along the letters. They were embellished with childish loops and spirals, completely at odds with the sharp lines of the asset’s physique.
“Eyes forward, soldier!” one of the handlers admonished him harshly.
“Call upstairs,” another said. “We need to get this catalogued.”
***
Sarah Elizabeth Andrews lived with her mother and father outside Boston. She was born with shocking white blond hair that had since darkened to something in between blond and brown. She had “blueberry muffin” eyes according to her mother. She was five years old when she was abducted from her kindergarten. It was during a fire drill. All the classes were lined up at their designated safety points. The students were out of their minds with excitement. The teachers struggled to keep them all together. And Sarah’s teacher lost track of her just long enough for the Hydra agents to grab her.
Her parents search for her for years.
***
They met for the first time following the asset’s next mission. He’d been in deep freeze for the first two months of the girl’s captivity. When he finished his mission report he expected to be stripped and cleaned with the hose before going back to sleep. That was the standard procedure unless they had another mission for him. Freezing the asset for less than one month was inefficient and caused his recovery period to lag. They led him to the cells instead of the cryo chamber, so he must have another mission.
The guard escorting him carried an automatic rifle. He stopped outside the steel door of a cell and smirked at the asset, “There’s a reward for you inside. For a job well done.”
He shoved the asset inside and marched back down the hallway. The asset listened to his heavy footfalls retreating down the hall. A reward? The asset was not rewarded. The asset was a tool. The asset did not require gifts of acknowledgement. He stiffened in confusion and turned away from the door.
There was a little girl sitting on the cot of his cell. The asset’s muscles were tensed as if expected an attack from the slight child. Sarah was just as chuffed. She stared at him with wide eyes, taking in the lanky hair, charcoal smudged eyes, heavy body armor and the gleaming metal arm. She looked frightened.
The Winter Soldier had never interacted with children for any of his missions. Was this training? Would his next target be a child? He did something he rarely tried anymore, and he reached back in his memory, trying to retrieve information on children from a time before . Of course, it was useless. He was rewarded for his effort by a ringing headache. His face crumpled in pain and he cradled his head in his hands.
“Are you okay?” the girl’s tiny voice cut through his pain.
“I am functional,” the asset responded. He raised his head and stared at the girl again. He was so confused.
“What’s that mean?” she asked. How old was she? He could estimate an adult’s age with an accuracy within a few months. But he didn’t have a clue about this child.
“It means...I am fine.” He moved into the room and immediately slid into the tiny adjoining bathroom. It was separated from the rest of the cell by a thin curtain. That wasn’t usually there, was it? He supposed the privacy was for the girl’s sake. How odd.
He stood in front of the sink and washed the sweat and grease from his face. There was a pile of his standard issue non-combat clothing folded on top of the toilet. Whenever he was due to spend more than a few hours out of either cryo or action they had him change into the thin t-shirt and cotton pants. He changed and returned to the main part of the cell, leaving his tactical wear folded up in a corner. Besides the cot there was no other furniture in the tiny room.
The girl was curled up on top of the cot, tucked into the corner so she could watch him. Smart. She was wearing a similar outfit to his: plain t-shirt and cotton drawstring pants. She was wearing a pair of thin slippers as well. She watched him the same wide eyes as before.
“Who are you?” she asked.
The asset bristled. Did this small child have security clearance? She seemed to be a prisoner, but why? He clenched his jaw in frustration. He’d never had so many unanswered questions running through his head. He’d never had the opportunity to wonder so much.
Not knowing how to answer, he opted not to do so. He walked toward the cot and made to sit down on it when he noticed her entire body go rigid in fear.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He didn’t think he would. Was he supposed to? Why was this a reward?
The girl didn’t look convinced but she allowed him to sit down on the other end of the cot without incident. He sat there for several minutes, staring directly ahead and ignoring her.
“Are you him ?” she asked. This girl obviously didn’t do quiet.
The asset turned his head and watched her from the corner of his eyes, “Him?”
“You know,” she said, sitting up on her knees and cautiously scooching forward a bit. She pointed to her left forearm. “ Him .”
The asset looked at her arm where a trail of scribbled letters marched from elbow to wrist. James Buchanon Barnes .
Why would this girl think that was him? “I don’t…” he trailed off.
“Let me see yours,” she demanded. When he’d first entered the cell the girl was like a shaking leaf, but she was rapidly becoming more bold. She pointed to his right arm where she could just make out the shadow of a soulmark.
He complied and held out his arm for her to read. She leaned in close and underlined each letter with a chubby finger as she sounded out the words.
“Sss...a...ra...Sarah! See that’s me! I told you,” she said decisively.
The asset looked at her quizzically for a second and then looked back at the words on his arm.
“Sarah Elizabeth Andrews?” he asked just to make sure.
“That’s me,” she said. “So then this must be you, right?”
She was pointing to the words on her own arm again. And something strange was happening to him at the same time. He felt a nascent, thin connection forming between himself and this kid. Was this...a soul bond? Why would his handlers want him to have this? He was the asset. The weapon, the tool...the assassin. He wasn’t meant to have a soulmate.
The girl was watching him with expectant eyes. He could feel her anxiety and hope radiating outward. He didn’t know what to say.
“I...guess.” James Buchanan Barnes. The asset had a name.
***
His handlers came for him the next morning. The asset (Sarah called him James now) had slept with the girl tucked in between himself and the wall. The position was subconsciously protective. The asset (James?) always preferred to sleep with his own back to the wall. If he had to sleep at all. He preferred not to--but something about her presence had soothed his usually frayed nerves enough that he drifted off without any effort.
When they came for him the girl was upset.
“No, you can’t take him away!” she shouted at the stone faced handlers. The asset was amazed at her behavior. The handlers were not to be challenged. She clung to his leg as they began escorting him out of the cell. The asset reached down and gripped her arms firmly but gently, prying her off of him.
“You must comply,” he said to her, his voice devoid of any emotion. But he felt a painful flare in his chest when he noticed there were tears in her eyes.
“Alright, soldier,” the guard spoke. The asset followed him out leaving the girl behind, crying in her prison cell.
***
It was explained to him. They’d confirmed that the girl was in fact his soulmate. She would be held by Hydra so long as she was useful. Her use was as the Winter Soldier’s recovery auxiliary. She would provide cognitive stability after missions, grounding the Soldier and reminding him where he belonged. Here with her...and with Hydra. It was mostly unsaid that she would also act as a further method of ensuring his compliance. Should he fail, should he break mission parameters or miss a deadline, she would face the consequences.
***
Sarah lived in the cell. The guards took her outside once a day and marched her around a stone courtyard for an hour. Despite their dour presence she relished the time in the sun. Time went by. She didn’t see James again for another few months after their first meeting. When it finally happened it was the same as before. They shoved him into her cell one night. She had been sleeping, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway always woke her up now. When she saw him enter she sprang out of bed and launched herself at him.
“James!! Where were you, why didn’t you come back? I missed you!”
The asset reeled from the sudden onslaught of emotion pouring out of Sarah. In the time they’d been apart he had been cryogenically frozen and then on a three day combat mission. Sarah had had time to stew and ache and cry and wonder. He hadn’t.
“Sarah,” he said simply.
When he was washed and changed he sat down and explained. Now that he knew the girl was a prisoner and not likely to have an opportunity to reveal classified information to anyone he could tell her.
“Sarah, when I’m not here I’m in cryo,” he said unhelpfully.
“What’s that?” she worried.
The asset (James, it was James, right?) adjusted his thoughts, “It’s...like sleeping. Only I don’t dream and I don’t wake up until someone opens up my tank.”
The girl looked confused, “But why? I want you to stay here.”
“I think…” it was strange for him to even say that phrase, “I think that sometimes I will. When I have a longer mission or something coming up. But I always have to go back. I’m a lot older than I look and that’s how I stay that way.”
Sarah looked unsure, “You look pretty old already.”
James...the asset...actually laughed. He couldn’t remember ever doing that.
***
So the asset went in and out of cryo, performed missions, and became accustomed to his visits with Sarah when they were successfully completed. Sometimes he would enter the cell and she’d seem--much, much older than the last time they’d met. Children, he found out, grew up very quickly.
But she always greeted him by pouncing into his arms even when she grew too old for the gesture to be quite as innocent as it once seemed.
***
Sarah was in her late teens when the asset went rogue. She’d spent most of her life in captivity. For reasons unknown to her Hydra had provided her with a basic education over the years. Apart from her daily frog marches through the courtyard she was also shuffled to lessons with a horrible woman named Ms. Raymond who smacked her across the face when she got an answer wrong. Other than that her days were mostly empty, spent waiting for the next appearance of James.
She fantasized about escape. Her jailors would forget to lock her cell and she’d break free, somehow knowing how to find James in his cryo tube and saving him along the way. Or James would burst in and rescue her. Either way they’d run away together and as they struggled through their life on the run James would finally notice how much she’d matured…
She had matured. It was strange, meeting one’s soulmate as a child. When she was little she thought of James as a giant teddy bear or security blanket. He was there to protect her and she loved him in her innocent childlike way. When she reached adolescence she began to wonder about what would happen when she grew up. Soulmates weren’t just friends. They were...lovers. On one truly mortifying occasion when she was about thirteen (she didn’t know her birth date so she estimated her own age) Sarah had kissed him. James was laughing at something she’d said--probably making fun of her shrewish teacher--and she couldn’t help it. He looked so young and beautiful and light when he laughed. She’d leaned forward, taken his face in her hands and planted one right on his lips.
Afterwards James told her that it wasn’t appropriate and she was too young and also “the asset” did not kiss--she noticed that he fell back into his programmed dialogue whenever he was nervous. But...before he’d said all that he had kissed her back. Just for a second. But still. So...there was that.
Sarah was laying on her cot, reliving the feel of James’s lips against hers, when the guards burst in. They dragged her up and brought her to an interrogation chamber where a man with a bald head told her that the asset was off mission.
Then they’d hurt her. They’d hurt her so much.
***
The Winter Soldier left Captain America unconscious but breathing on the river bank. As he walked away his mind raced in a tangle of confused thoughts. He knew that man--but when? The asset didn’t know Steve Rogers. Someone else did. James? But James belonged to Sarah and their room and....Sarah.
Oh.
He was off mission. Way, way off mission. For the first time in a very long time he felt a deep, paralyzing fear. He knew for certain that they would take it out on her. They’d hurt her. He felt for the connection they shared, the tiny flame of the soulbond that lived in his chest. He felt it and he knew...they’d already begun. With a vicious snarl he pushed through the trees along the river and started to formulate a plan.
***
Sarah was strapped to a surgical table in a dark room. She’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like hours. Each time she started to come truly awake the pain would be too much and she’d pass out again. She thought she was alone. She hadn’t felt any hands on her for a long time. She cracked an eye open and saw a thin band of light cutting through the room from a door that was slightly ajar. They’d left.
She heart sounds. Shouting, bangs, screeches, alarms. It went on endlessly. What was happening? And then, quite suddenly, there was a ghostly silence. No more shouts, no more gun shots. It was the silence that really brought her to her senses. She felt a trickle of sweat run down her neck, she was terrified. Suddenly the band of light expanded and fell across her. She slammed her eyelids shut against the blinding light. She felt hands on her arms and jumped in fright.
“Shhh, Sarah. It’s me, it’s James. Can you hear me?”
Sarah broke down in tears of relief. James started to unbuckle and restraints and slowly guided her to a seated position. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was the same as he always was when he came to her: sweaty, battle hardened, exhausted. Handsome, gentle, and warm. She felt the thread of their soulbond sing within her. She was too weak for her usual hysterical greeting but she still managed to snake an arm around his torso and press her face against his chest.
“James,” she cried. “Is it over now? Can we...are we free?”
She felt his arms tighten around her and he lifted her up off the table and started towards the door.
“Yeah, baby,” he said. “We’re free.”
***
“So…” Steve started. “Who is this?”
James cleared his throat and wrapped an arm around the girl’s thin shoulders.
“Steve Rogers, this is Sarah Elizabeth Andrews. She’s my soulmate.”
The End.