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They handed the offspring to the Asset, the disappointment of his wife’s failure to survive already written off as they make cursory attempts to revive her.
But as he held his son for the very first time, he finally found a name for the stirring that had plagued him from the first time he’d recognised the life growing within his wife for what it was.
Love.
The Winter Soldier was hopelessly, irrevocably, and deeply in love with the screaming red blob in his arms. And just like that, he knew he would rather tear the world apart than allow them to take his child and turn him into another Soldier.
He stayed long enough to observe as they cleaned up his son in another room. As they changed him, tested him, and fed him, and then prepared to send him away back to the cold, impersonal base of the trainees they already had.
The Winter Soldier never missed his target. This time was no exception.
By the time he left the base with his precious cargo in his arms, all traces of the Red Room’s New Agenda were gone.
He fled, as fast and far as he could, boarding any plane, train, or ship he felt was going to further away from the USSR and his life as the Winter Soldier.
Finally, he found himself in the United States, in a small town on the coast. He was exhausted, wary, and still had trouble remembering how to act human, but the child in his arms was safe, and his.
He needed lodgings and food, and supplies for his boy, but he was so tired, and memories were coming faster, and human needs were making themselves known again. The small building in which he’d found himself was so cosy and comforting, and he lost himself in a large high-back chair, rocking his small new-born to sleep, and reading some of the works posted on the wall under “Author of the Month.” The Soldier found himself close to a smile at the words he was sure he’d heard once, a lifetime ago, though they were newer, then.
A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
His skin prickles, and he cocks the gun he holds in his left, unfeeling metal hand as he clutches his infant in his right, human hand.
“Hey, Pal, they’ve asked you enough times now,” says the uniformed police officer who finally manages to get his attention. “The library is closed, you and the kid hafta get outta here.”
The Soldier stares at the officer, assessing. He doesn’t seem to be a threat, except as one who’s trying to turn his son out to the cold. The officer stares back and then releases a long sigh.
“Look, Buddy… do you have somewhere to go?”
The Soldier blinks. Shakes his head. Keeps his left hand hidden by his side with the gun no longer cocked but the safety still off.
The officer closes his eyes.
“You can’t take the kid out on the streets,” he seems to reason with himself, visibly preparing himself for something.
The Winter Soldier never misses his target. He clutches the baby closer to himself, ready to take his son and run once again.
“Come on. You can come home with me.”
The Soldier blinks again, surprised.
“Name’s Henry, by the way. You got a name?” the officer asks as he leads the way out.
The Soldier thinks, flashes of a laughing boy and a family and friends passing through his mind.
“I think it is James,” he says slowly, memories of a grinning woman who always offered the best hugs and unconditional love finding their place in his mind.
“Okay James. That kid is yours, right?” the officer asks.
He nods, looking at the perfect creature in his arms. Something must show on the face that once belonged to an Asset, but that now belongs to a father, because the officer nods back and leads them out the door into his car.
“It’s okay. I understand. I have a kid, too. That’s my wife, Maddie, holding Shawn,” he says, pointing to a photo in his squad car of a smiling blonde woman holding a baby. He indicates the squirming infant in the other man’s arms. “What’s his name?”
The Sol- James takes a moment to think about it. He’d not given the boy a name, yet. He was his son and that had been all that mattered.
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But now, they could rest and regroup, perhaps find good food and safety, he was free to give his son some of the best things the child deserved.
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
He knew they would find him someday.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
Hydra would always want their weapon, their fist, and would search for him, even if it took years.
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
But the Winter Soldier had a name again, and a purpose, and they would find him, and use him again, but they would not have his boy.
With an alien people clutching their gods.
He didn’t know if the baby possessed any of his abilities, but it didn’t matter. James would teach his son to be a man, not a machine. He would have feelings and compassion and would love completely and willingly and never have the cruelty of his mother nor the emptiness of his father. The Red Room was behind them, and the two of them were going to look forward, now.
I should be glad of another death.
James would die for his son. But first, he was going to re-learn how to live for him.
“Eliot,” he pronounces slowly, feeling the syllables wash over his tongue. They feel right, just as the person in his arms has felt since the moment when he first held him. “His name is Eliot.”