Chapter Text
It should’ve been an operation like all the others they have done in the past year.
It is, at the beginning. Get inside the HYDRA base without anyone noticing, take care of all the agents in it, find something that might be valuable. Find something that might tell him where to look next. Where to find a ghost.
What changes is that once he’s inside and all the agents are taken care of, Steve finds more than something. He finds someone, and they definitely aren’t the someone he has been looking for the past year. For starters, they’re smaller, much smaller, and young, oh, so young.
They’re awake, and they’re looking at him, eyes too sharp for someone so young. And they aren’t crying, or screaming, like Steve would expect them to do.
“Level 5, clear,” Natasha says through the coms, and Steve is supposed to answer, tell them that his floor is clear too, but he feels paralyzed.
It isn’t clear because there’s a child staring back at him.
Steve glances at the plastic chart attached to the end of the small bed the child is sitting on, their back pressed against the wall, as far as possible from Steve. Of course, it’s in Russian, but in the past year, Steve has picked on some words without really trying, so he recognises the one for male, with a 4 after. He’s four. There’s a four year-old child in a HYDRA base. His stomach twists in a knot and Steve’s glad he hasn’t eaten in maybe almost twenty-four hours, because he knows that if he had, he’d been throwing up all over the floor.
There are other things written on it, but he doesn’t know Russian that well to understand them. He tries to search for a name, but at its top there’s only a 018 with a word he doesn’t know following it. Steve hopes it’s a random number and not something that suggests there are—God, were other seventeen children before him.
“Hey,” he tries, and then, he almost grimaces at his own voice. It’s low and raspy, not really meant to approach a child. Steve clears his throat, and after, he places the shield against his back, hoping to look less threatening. He doesn’t know what the child is capable of, but he knows HYDRA too well, so he doesn’t even remotely hope he’s just a regular child.
“It’s okay,” he says, voice not too loud. He doesn’t want to scare him, and even if Steve can take whatever attack the child might come up with, he doesn’t want to fight a child. He’s four. Steve lifts his hands in the air, and takes a step towards the bed. The child tries to plaster himself against the wall behind his back even more, fear so clear in his eyes, and Steve’s face almost crumbles.
It’s too much. He can take dozens and dozens of HYDRA agents, he can fight for hours, until his body screams and he doesn’t know where the pain’s coming from anymore, but trying to approach this child is too much. Steve doesn’t know if he can do it, but he has to, there is no other way.
He doesn’t even know if the child understands English, but Steve tries anyway. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, moving as slowly as he can. The child’s eyes shift slightly up, and Steve realizes he’s still wearing his helmet, so he quickly takes it off and gently places it on the table nearby.
Steve tries to smile, not too much, just a gentle and soft curve of his lips, but the child still looks so scared. He looks frightened. Steve doesn’t even want to think about what they did to him. He wishes he knew his name—but maybe he doesn’t even have a name. Maybe he’s just a number.
“Rogers, status?” Natasha asks him, and as soon as the words are said, the child perks up, looking towards his ear, as if he could hear them too. Steve doesn’t want to think about what it might mean.
He ignores Natasha. There’s something more important to do, which is making sure the child feels safe enough for Steve to hold him in his arms and take him the hell out of the base.
Steve takes another step closer, small smile still on his lips. The room isn’t lightened much, the only light is the one coming from outside the room in the hallway, and once he has taken another step towards the bed, he notices that the child’s eyes are blue, but it isn’t a bright blue, almost dulled out with gray. His hair’s dark, kept short, and the more Steve looks at him, the more he sees someone else he shouldn’t see. There’s a familiarness that strikes the center of his chest and Steve tries his best not to falter.
It can’t be. He doesn’t want to believe it, but how can he not, when it’s right in front of his eyes.
Natasha asks him something again, but Steve isn’t even sure he registers the words.
The child’s eyes meet his, and Steve knows. He knows.
He’s Bucky’s son, he doesn’t know how, but the child’s Bucky’s son. He’s the carbon copy of the child Steve used to stare at in the few pictures that adorned the living room of Bucky’s house.
Steve wants to turn around and run as far as possible. He doesn’t want to think about anything. But he can’t, because there’s a child who could be Bucky’s in front of him and Steve needs to take him away from HYDRA’s bloody hands. And even if he weren’t Bucky’s, Steve would never remotely imagine leaving him behind. He’d die, if it meant it’d be the only way to make sure he’s safe.
Sam says something through the coms too, but Steve keeps not registering their words. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter right then, it can’t be more important than the child in front of him.
“I’m—I’m Steve,” he says, pointing to his chest with his hand. “Steve.” The child doesn’t look confused underneath all the fear in his eyes, so Steve’s almost certain he can understand him.
“The bad guys—the ones who hurt you are gone.” Steve doesn’t know how to approach a regular child. Sure, there were children back in his neighborhood, and Bucky had a little sister, but Steve always tried to keep his distance. He doesn’t really know why, but he just felt like he didn’t know how to behave with children. So a child who probably is enhanced and most likely has so many traumas lined up that he doesn’t even know what they mean? Steve’s lost. He’s so lost, and he’s certain he’s the last person on the planet, maybe even the whole universe, fit to approach the child in front of him. But he still can’t run away.
“We need to leave,” he says, pointing with his thumb behind his shoulder, where the door is. Steve knows HYDRA probably never treated him like a child, so maybe he just needs to be clear about what is going to happen and keep a non-threatening aura for it to work. “Can I hold you? So it’ll be faster.”
One hour ago, Steve would’ve never imagined that he’d leave the base with a child on his hip, but after all, many of the things that happened in his life are things Steve couldn’t have ever imagined to happen. So he can’t be surprised. Not much, at least, not even by the fact the child might be Bucky’s.
The child doesn’t answer, but at this point, Steve’s certain he can understand him. He still looks scared, trying not to shake, but even if Steve gets closer to him, he doesn’t look more scared than he already was seconds before.
Both Natasha and Sam are speaking into the coms non-stop, and even if Steve wants to tell them he’s alright, he also doesn’t want to take his whole attention away from the child.
“It’s okay, bud,” he tells him, making sure to keep his expression gentle. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeats.
And then, the child does something Steve wasn’t expecting. He uses the wall against his back to help himself stand up on the bed, and Steve’s already preparing for an attack to come, but that doesn’t happen. The child lifts his tiny arms and stretches them towards Steve. Something clicks in his brain. He wants Steve to take him into his arms.
Steve’s face almost crumbles for a second time, but instead of letting that happen, he closes the distance between them and with his fingers gently wrapped under his armpits, he brings him against his chest. The child immediately wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, nestling his face in its crook, legs tight around the sides of his torso.
He pauses, just for a second, and he doesn’t know why it’s the first thought that comes to his mind, but he can’t stop himself from thinking that since the day he woke up in the 21st century, it’s the first time Steve’s chest feels settled. With a child pressed against his body, Steve feels a calmness he hasn’t felt in a long time. And Steve knows that if someone were to ask him, maybe later, in a year or more, when it was the time he decided, he’d say it was this. This exact moment.
“You’re alright, buddy,” Steve whispers, adjusting the grip of his arm on the child so he has at least the other arm free. The child doesn’t acknowledge his words, but Steve feels his arms slightly tighten around his neck.
Somewhere deep in his chest, Steve feels the urge to cry, to just sit down on the floor and sob his heart out with the child held against him, but he’s aware he can’t do that. Maybe later, when he’ll be alone and no one will be there to hear him.
Steve scans the room, looking for something that could be useful, but the only useful thing is the chart, so he takes the paper out and folds it as best as he can with one hand, tucking it behind his utility belt, and then, once he has worn the helmet again, he leaves the room.
“Level 7, clear,” he says, activating his com, and the second after, Sam hoards the line to rip him a new one. Steve ignores him.
“Rendez-vous in two,” Natasha cuts Sam off, and Steve’s glad, because the child’s head is placed near the ear where the com is in, and he doesn’t want him to be scared even more by Sam’s angry tone.
Steve knows there aren’t any agents left, but he still makes sure to keep his focus on his surroundings, his free arm lifted to cover the vital parts of the child’s body.
“We’re going to meet my friends soon,” Steve tells him, voice a whisper not to startle him, “they won’t hurt you. No one will from now on. You’re gonna be safe, no matter what, because I’m here to protect you, okay?”
The child tightens his grip again, and Steve takes it as his way to let Steve know he understood what he’s saying.
Steve wishes there was a name he could call him with. He’s starting to despise having to call him child in his head. But maybe if Natasha gets a look at the chart, she will find something. Maybe there’s an actual name.
Their rendez-vous point is on Level 3, where they separated once they took care of most of the agents, so Steve takes the emergency stairs and tries to get there as quickly as he can without jostling the child around too much with his movements.
Steve hopes to be the first one to get there, but of course, he isn’t. He would’ve liked to get even only a minute to gather all of his thoughts and be ready to face Natasha and Sam with a child on his hip. But Natasha and Sam are already there, waiting for him.
“Is that—Is—Oh, my God—”
“Yeah,” Steve says with an urgency in his voice, “try not to be loud, please.”
Natasha nods, a neutral expression on her face, and Steve wonders if sometimes she has thought about the possibility of finding children in one of the many bases they swooped. Sam looks shocked instead, but Steve can’t blame him. Sam may imagine the extreme lengths HYDRA could go to, but it’s still all relatively fresh for him.
The child doesn’t turn his face to check who’s with them, and Steve doesn’t say anything, not even when he feels him press his face a bit harder against the crook of his neck. Steve’s almost glad he doesn’t, because if the other two were to see the child’s face, he knows they’d understand it too.
Steve takes the folded paper out and passes it to Natasha. “It’s the only thing I could find about him.” Then, he points with his free hand towards the emergency stairs to tell them they can move.
Natasha scans what’s written on it while they climb down the stairs, reading the words under her breath.
She says something in Russian, but the child doesn’t move an inch, as if he didn’t even hear her.
“Is there a name?” Steve asks, glancing at her, eager to switch up the word in his head.
Natasha shakes her head. “Just a bunch of medical stuff,” she answers, and then she looks hesitant, as if there’s something she doesn’t want him to know, but Steve already knows.
“Steve,” she whispers, careful, “he’s—”
“Yeah,” Steve cuts her off, “I know.”
Steve can’t be sure if she’s referring to the fact the child is supposed to be a super-soldier, or if he’s Bucky’s. Either way, he doesn’t want to hear the words out loud.
But Sam doesn’t know. So, “He’s what?” he asks from behind him, and even if Steve can’t see him, he still hears the confusion and shock in his voice.
Natasha sighs. “Super-soldier,” she only says. Steve exhales. It’s better than the other different words she could’ve said.
Sam swears under his breath, and Steve agrees. He wants to scream and rip in half as many HYDRA agents as he can, burn HYDRA to the ground, but right then, his priorities are others. He needs to take the child somewhere safe. He needs to take him to the Avengers Compound and make sure he’s healthy, that there isn’t anything wrong with him. Steve’s trying to keep all the thoughts about what they did to him restrained, because he knows that as soon as he will start to think about all the possibilities, he won’t be able to think straight.
As soon as they put their feet outside the base, the Quinjet’s motors start to awaken, and Steve isn’t running towards it, but almost, one arm wrapped tight under the child’s bum and his other hand gently placed against the back of his head.
Natasha takes the pilot’s station, meanwhile Steve and Sam take the seats behind her, and once they’re up in the air, Steve starts to breathe again.
“We need to find him a name,” he blurts out, arms still protectively wrapped around him, even if he knows they’re safe. Steve’s certain that if someone were to try taking the child away from him, he’d start to snarl at them.
“Russian?” Natasha asks.
“I don’t know, maybe? As long as he responds to it.”
Steve can’t think about a name, so he hopes Natasha or Sam will.
“Dmitry?” she tries, but the child ignores it.
“No.”
“Then… Mikhail? Misha?”
“George?” Sam speaks, looking at them to catch a reaction. “Nathaniel?”
“Ivan?”
Steve doesn’t know where they’re taking the names from, but none works. The child keeps his face pressed to the side of his neck, so still Steve thinks it’s too unnatural. A four year-old child shouldn’t be able to stay so still.
“Viktor?”
“Andrew?”
Steve sighs. “Hey, bud?” he says, voice gentle, he wants to coax him into looking at him, “do you want to move?”
The child doesn’t react to his words, so Steve takes it as a no.
He sighs again, shoulders sagging. He needs to find a way to communicate with him, to make sure he really understands what’s happening, because he knows that once they will be at the Compound, it will be dramatic when the doctors will try to run tests on him if he doesn’t know what’s happening.
Then, “Nikita?” Natasha tries, and Steve feels the tiny fingers pressed against the nape of his neck twitch.
“Nikita?” Steve asks, a flicker of hope burning in his chest. This time, it’s the arms that tighten around his neck, and Steve wants to start believing it’s the right one.
“Hey, Nikita?” he whispers, hopeful, “do you like it? You like Nikita?”
The child doesn’t nod, but he presses his forehead harder against his skin, and there’s a low and short hum coming from him, which Steve takes as an agreement.
“Nikita it is,” he confirms, and he can’t stop the smile curving his lips. It isn’t much, actually, the response to the name is almost nothing, but considering the child—Nikita has been completely silent since the moment Steve found him, it feels like progress.
“Nikita’s a cute name,” Natasha comments, and Steve can hear the smile in her voice too.
Sam hums, and Steve knows the other likes it too.
“You’re safe, Nikita,” Steve tells him under his breath, making sure not to hold him too tight against his chest, but still tight enough.
And for the second time that day, there’s a thought in his head Steve can’t stop, that he doesn’t even see coming. Nikita Rogers, it tells him, and then, no, Nikita Barnes.
Steve doesn’t question it. He just closes his eyes, head rested back against the leather of the seat, and lets those two words roll in his head until they become almost foreign.
The warm tiny body relaxes against him, and Steve’s body relaxes too.
At some point, Nikita falls asleep and his head lulls to the side on his shoulder. Steve gently adjusts it so his face is almost completely hidden into his neck. He wants the moment when the others will understand who Nikita really is to come as late as possible, but deep down, Steve knows there isn’t much time left.
The Compound is only a few minutes away, and soon there will be tests to run on him. It’s inevitable, and even if Steve has tried to prepare himself since the moment Nikita chose his name, he knows he will never be prepared enough.
Once they land, Steve tries not to wake Nikita up when he gets off the Quinjet, and glares at whoever tries to approach him, ignoring the expressions that go from surprise to confusion on their faces.
Natasha leads him to the medical bay, and even if Steve knows where it is, he doesn’t say anything.
Bruce’s there too, and Steve’s thankful to see a familiar face among all the other doctors. Steve let the Compound know they were coming and what they found in the base, so at least, when they all turn to look at him and Nikita, their faces are kind of neutral. They’re professional, not letting Steve have a glimpse of what they’re thinking about.
Steve jostles Nikita a bit, trying to coax him out of sleep. His eyes are focused on Nikita’s face, but he knows everyone is looking at each of his movements without having to check.
“Hey, bud,” he whispers, stroking his fingers on the top of Nikita’s head, “Nikita?”
He hears Natasha speak, something along the lines of he doesn’t have a name, but he responded to Nikita, so we’re using that. Steve doesn’t catch what she says next, because Nikita slowly opens his eyes and Steve’s whole attention is back on him.
Nikita looks up at him, and Steve smiles. “Hey, buddy,” he greets him, “we’re safe here, and everyone is my friend, okay? They’re your friends too, so they will never hurt you.”
He keeps looking up at him, but at least he doesn’t seem scared, not as much as he was back in the base. Nikita doesn’t acknowledge his words, so Steve tries in a different way.
“Do you want to get down?” he asks, slowly leaning forward, but as soon as Steve starts to lower him down, Nikita’s grip tightens again around his neck and Steve understands. “Okay, you can stay with me,” he reassures him with a smile.
“My friends—they want to make sure you’re alright, mh?” he says then, and Steve hopes it will go differently from the way he’s imagining it. He doesn’t want the first sounds Nikita makes to be cries or screams. “But I will be with you for the whole time, okay?”
Nikita doesn’t take his eyes away from him, and Steve doesn’t stop smiling, even if it kind of hurts. Smiling is the last thing he wants to do right then.
Steve sends a quick glance towards Bruce and with a nod, he starts to walk towards the bed they prepared. He sits on it, and slowly, he tries to maneuver Nikita, at least enough for him to sit on his thigh with one of his shoulders pressed against Steve’s chest and his legs swinging in between Steve’s thighs. Nikita doesn’t protest, but he never looks at anyone besides Steve. As if as long as Nikita makes sure Steve’s there, then he doesn’t care if there are other people too.
Maybe, Nikita understands even more than Steve thought he could.
Like this, Steve’s aware whoever’s close enough can see Nikita’s face, but it’s then that another thought occurs to him.
He’s the only one in the room, and probably in the world, besides Bucky’s family, who has seen those pictures, who knows the way Bucky looked when he was four years old. Maybe it’s far-fetched, but Steve hopes they will see Nikita’s face and only think he kind of resembles Bucky, and that they will be too uncertain to ask. At least for now, and then once it will have settled, once Steve will have wrapped his head around the whole matter, he will confirm their suspicions.
Bruce’s the one who gets closer to the both of them, but Nikita doesn’t turn to look at him. Steve’s certain he’s aware of everyone in the room due to his enhanced senses, but it doesn’t seem like it bothers him.
“We have to take a sample of his blood,” Bruce tells him, to which Steve nods.
“Hey, Nikita,” he says, looking at him. “Bruce is a close friend—I want to make sure you’re okay, so he’s going to help me do it, yeah?”
Nikita’s fingers twitch, and Steve smiles a bit more. “He’s going to take your blood, so it will sting a bit, but I’m here, okay? You can hold onto me, and if you want him to stop just tap your fingers against me, yeah?”
Nikita keeps looking at him. Steve isn’t even sure he has blinked since the moment he woke up, but then, he nods. The movement is imperceptible, and Steve thinks he wouldn’t have caught it if he weren’t so focused with all of his senses on Nikita.
Steve exhales, and tries to not to let a smile break his face in half. It’s the first real response he has had since the moment he found him. Steve can’t believe it.
He nods at Bruce, and with the hand that isn’t placed against Nikita’s tiny back, he gently lifts the sleeve of his blue hoodie up and makes him stretch his arm forward. Nikita doesn’t protest, and even when Bruce inserts the butterfly needle into the inner part of his elbow, he doesn’t flinch back. He doesn’t even move, and Steve hates the thought that it’s because he must be used to it, that maybe he’s so used to it that it doesn’t even hurt anymore. Or maybe they just beat the pain out of him. Steve doesn’t want to think about the ways that could’ve happened. He really doesn’t want to.
Then, for the first time ever, Nikita lowers his head, and the words to tell Bruce to stop are on the tip of his tongue, but Nikita doesn’t tap his fingers against him, he just rests the side of his head against Steve’s chest, as if he wants to go back to sleep. Steve can’t see his eyes like this, only the top of his head, but his other arm remains loosely wrapped around his neck, not really long enough to reach it, so Steve assumes it’s alright to keep going.
Steve moves his hand into a circular motion on Nikita’s back, as a way to reassure him everything’s fine, and glances at the blood that’s being drawn by the needle. The thoughts are begging him to be heard, but Steve shuts them off once again. He will let them scream at him once he knows Nikita’s well, and also after Steve has made sure he has eaten something.
Bruce is quick, he takes all the blood he needs, and then sticks a band-aid with tiny Captain America’s shields printed on to Nikita’s skin. Steve almost snorts at the sight, he doesn’t only not to jostle Nikita, since Steve’s pretty certain he fell asleep again.
“A whole body scan would be good to have,” Bruce tells him, voice a whisper not to disturb Nikita, “but I don’t think he’d like to be separated from you.”
Steve grimaces. “Maybe in a few days,” he suggests.
Bruce nods. Steve knows that as a doctor, Bruce would prefer doing all the possible tests on Nikita right then, but as a person, he understands it will be ugly if they try to take Nikita away from him. Honestly, Steve doesn’t know if he wants that too. He knows it’s for Nikita’s sake, but an irrational part of him doesn’t want to let go of him, it doesn’t matter how numb his arms will feel.
Steve thanks him, and then, he watches him walk to the lab part of the medical bay through the glass walls.
Natasha’s still there, leaned against a concrete wall, arms crossed against her chest, waiting. She’s holding the paper Steve gave to her, and he’s certain if not her directly, then she made sure FRIDAY has already provided the team of doctors a complete translation of it.
When their eyes meet, Natasha nods at him and Steve nods back. Maybe, she’s the only one who understood who Nikita really is.
“Captain Rogers,” another doctor gets his attention. Steve looks away from Natasha to look at her. “You can go, we’ll let you know the results through FRIDAY.”
Steve nods, thanks her, and once he has adjusted his grip around Nikita, he gets up to leave, headed towards the elevator.
Natasha silently joins him, walking by his side, and gives him back the paper. Steve takes it, but doesn’t say anything.
It’s inside the elevator that she speaks.
“He’s Barnes’ son, isn’t he?”
Steve was expecting the question, so it doesn’t surprise him to hear the words.
He nods, only because he knows Natasha can see him through the reflection of the mirrored doors.
“He has his DNA, at least,” Steve tells her. They can’t really know how he’s his son, if it happened in a natural way or into a lab. Steve would bet on the latter and he’s certain Natasha’s thinking the same.
“I’ll try to find something in the data dump.”
“Thank you, Nat,” he tells her, sincere, “and thanks for the name too.”
She smiles. “It’s a cool name.”
Steve agrees. He doesn’t think he has ever heard it, but he likes it. Besides, it’s the only name he reacted to.
Once the elevator doors open on the floor where their quarters are, they say goodbye to each other, and Steve walks towards the shared kitchen to find something for the both of them to eat.
Nikita’s still sleeping, and Steve finds making sandwiches a lot harder with only an arm free and a child pressed against his side, mostly because he doesn’t want to wake him up. In the end, he goes for an egg and ham sandwich, hoping Nikita will like it.
After ten minutes, a half-burnt sandwich and other four that he managed to save, he walks towards his bedroom. FRIDAY unlocks the door for him, Steve whispers a thank you under his breath, and once inside, he places the tray with the food on his nightstand and sits down on the bed.
Steve finds himself stroking Nikita’s head. They must have buzzed his hair not long ago, so it’s too short to run his fingers through it. The hair feels like soft peach fuzz under his hand, and the motion makes him relax.
He wants to change his clothes, even if they look clean enough, but Steve isn’t sure there are kids clothes in the Compound, so maybe that will have to wait.
His eyes land on the Captain America’s band-aid, and only then, Steve realizes he’s still wearing his uniform, that he only mindlessly took the helmet and the shield off. He needs a shower, but with Nikita not wanting to be separated from him, maybe that has to wait too.
Steve clears his throat, and, “Nikita,” he whispers, stroking his knuckles against the child’s cheek. “It’s time to eat.”
Nikita shifts a bit against him, but then, maybe because he has realized they’re the only ones in the room, he immediately blinks up at him.
Steve smiles. “Hey, are you hungry?” he asks, leaning towards the plate to take a sandwich and moving it close enough for Nikita to be able to take it into his hands.
Nikita looks at the sandwich, then at him again, as if he’s asking a question. “Yeah, it’s yours. You can take it if you want,” Steve tells him, voice gentle.
Nikita’s hesitant, Steve can see it in the way he slowly reaches towards the sandwich, and once his little fingers wrap around it, he sends another glance up, as if he wants to make sure he can really eat it. Steve smiles, but he only wants to scream.
“Go on, bud,” he encourages him, gently nudging his hand with his own.
Nikita takes a bite, but it’s so small that it barely changes the shape of the sandwich. But then, maybe it’s because he must like it, or maybe because he’s hungry, he takes a bigger bite, and Steve’s shoulders sag, relieved.
After, he takes the glass of water with a straw from the tray and places its bottom on his thigh, where Nikita can see it and take it if he’s thirsty. He doesn’t, though, he just eats the sandwich first, and only once he’s done, he glances at the glass. Steve brings it closer to him and moves the straw near his lips. Nikita drinks the water slowly, and Steve watches him, his own hunger forgotten.
“Do you want another?” he asks once Nikita looks up at him, and for the second time that day, he nods. Steve smiles to himself and gives him another sandwich.
Only then, he eats one himself, and then another, waiting for Nikita to finish his.
“Hey, FRIDAY,” Steve speaks up, stroking the back of Nikita’s hair.
“Yes, Mr. Rogers?”
Nikita looks up at the ceiling, and Steve studies his reaction. He doesn’t seem scared by FRIDAY, but mostly curious, probably because he can’t sense someone else in the room.
“Can you order for me everything a four year-old kid would need? Clothes, books maybe? Toys? And have them delivered here as soon as possible.” Steve doesn’t really know what Nikita would need, but he trusts FRIDAY to know better.
“Of course, Mr. Rogers,” FRIDAY replies.
“Thank you.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then, FRIDAY speaks again.
“Dr. Banner wants you to know that Nikita is completely healthy, there are traces of an unknown serum in his blood, which like his medical chart says makes him enhanced, but not as high as it is present in yours. Dr. Banner will study it and get back to you, Mr. Rogers.”
Steve sighs, relieved by the words. As long as Nikita’s healthy, the rest is something that can wait.
Nikita points to the ceiling, and Steve nods. “Yeah, bud, the voice comes from the ceiling,” he tells him, “it’s a computer.”
Then, he points to the last sandwich, the half-burnt one and after, he points at Steve. “You want it?” he asks, chuckling, “I don’t think it will taste as yummy as the others.”
Nikita shakes his head and points at him again. Steve tries to understand what it means.
“You want me to eat it?” he tries.
Nikita nods and Steve laughs. “Alright.”
It takes him fifteen seconds to eat it. Nikita never glances away from his face.
Without new clothes, he can’t wash Nikita, and Steve’s certain the only way to wash himself will be with Nikita plastered to his side, so the only other option for the both of them is to sleep until the clothes get delivered, which may take a few hours.
“Do you want to take a nap?”
Nikita nods and Steve smiles at him. It’s been only a couple of hours, but Nikita already has him wrapped around his little finger, and Steve doesn’t need to think to know he’d do everything to keep Nikita safe, even sacrifice his own life if it were the only way.
In the end, he falls asleep too. He didn’t mean to, but probably taking care of a kid is more tiring than he thought. He hasn’t slept in more than forty-eight hours, though, so maybe that’s also why.
He watches Nikita fall asleep first, and even if Steve turned the TV on and found a channel that plays cartoons, Nikita only glanced at it once, probably to check where the sounds were coming from, and then, with his head pillowed on Steve’s shoulder and the rest of his body rested on his chest, he went back to stare at him, until his eyelids dropped and his breath became even.
Steve knows Nikita’s urge to always have his eyes on Steve and not wanting to let go of him isn’t normal. There must be a lot of reasons—bad reasons to explain why he’s behaving like that, but if it’s the only thing that’s preventing him from feeling scared, Steve won’t make him try to stop, not for now at least, and not without a professional’s help.
He can’t say he totally understands, but he still understands that feeling of being scared. As if Nikita will just disappear if Steve looks away from him for too long, if he isn’t holding him and making sure he can feel his warm tiny body against his. Perhaps, Nikita feels like that too, scared Steve will disappear and he will be back in that HYDRA base once again. Steve knows he won’t ever let it happen, but Nikita doesn’t, so maybe he believes that as long as he’s with Steve, as long as he’s with the person who took him away, then he won’t go back.
Steve’s heart aches. It isn’t fair, Nikita’s just a baby. He shouldn’t know a fear like that, he shouldn’t ask for permission to eat, and he definitely shouldn’t be a super-soldier. Steve’s hands shake with the need to break everything—everyone who dared to lay a hand on Nikita, who dared to make him scared. He wants to annihilate HYDRA, leave not even ashes of it, as if it never existed. Make sure no one will ever suffer again by their hands, not like Bucky has, not like Nikita has, and not like all the innocent people who have been killed have, leaving their families in despair.
It’s a soft sound coming from Nikita that rips him away from his own thoughts. Steve glances at him, but he finds him still sleeping, lips almost forming a pout, and his face softens. It’s like there’s a tiny version of Bucky sleeping on his chest, and at this point, Steve’s completely certain Nikita is some sort of experiment done with Bucky’s DNA, to create an army of super-soldiers trained from birth. Steve doesn’t want to believe it, but he knows what HYDRA is capable of, that probably there’s something even worse behind all of it. He hopes Natasha will find something, but mostly, Steve hopes there aren’t other babies like Nikita God knows where, suffering by their hands.
In his sleep then, Nikita finds one of Steve’s hands and wraps his small fingers around his index finger.
Steve falls asleep like that. With Nikita’s fingers wrapped around his own, his head rested on Steve’s shoulder, near to his neck, and his other arm gently wrapped around Nikita, keeping him close.
He falls asleep with a promise in his head. One that no matter what, he will make sure to never break.
It’s FRIDAY that wakes him up.
Steve doesn’t know how long has passed since the time he fell asleep, but it’s dark outside, the only light comes from the TV, casting the room in a faded blue light, so it has been at least a couple of hours.
“Mr. Rogers, the items you requested have arrived,” FRIDAY lets him know, “the packages are being sent to your quarters.”
“Thank you, FRIDAY.”
Steve glances at Nikita then, he hasn’t moved much, and he’s still holding his finger, which makes Steve smile, soft, but kind of sad too. He wonders when it was the last time someone held him like this. Steve doesn’t want to think that maybe it never happened. That’s just too cruel.
Steve doesn’t know much about kids, but he’s pretty certain he messed up Nikita’s sleep schedule letting him nap first on the Quinjet and then for almost the whole evening. But if his metabolism is even half of Steve’s, then surely he needs as much sleep as possible.
A knock against the door of his bedroom catches his attention. Steve knows better than trying to place Nikita on the bed to get up, he doesn’t exactly know how he knows, but he thinks that if he were to do that, Nikita would sense it and wake up, so he just gets up keeping Nikita leaned against his chest, his head still rested on his shoulder.
“Good evening, Mr. Rogers,” someone he doesn’t know from the staff greets him when Steve opens the door. Steve greets him back, and if he hadn’t a kid in his arms, he’d just thank the man and tell him he can move the packages by himself, but he can’t do that, not with Nikita there. So Steve steps aside and lets the man move the packages inside his room, they’re six, and Steve hopes the second wardrobe in the bedroom he doesn’t use will be big enough to store everything.
Once the man is done, Steve thanks him under his breath, and shifts his attention to the packages. They’re labeled, two with clothes, one with books, two with toys and the last one with other utilities.
Steve sits down on the floor in front of the two labeled with clothes and opens them. For now, he just needs some pajamas, he can empty the rest at a later time. The first ones he finds are green with printed yellow ducks on them, then searches for underwear and fluffy socks. Once he finds everything he needs, he thinks about checking the contents of the other packages, and with a glance towards Nikita who’s still sleeping, he decides to give a quick look.
The book package has kid books both in English and Russian, some coloring ones with sets of pens attached, and others that look like they are about a mix of school subjects. The toy packages contain almost only plushies, his eyes land on one that resembles a gray seal, maybe almost as big as Nikita, and he takes it out, throwing it on the bed. The utilities one instead has some bottles of bubble bath, the kind for kids, and mostly just toiletries.
Steve moves the pajamas he picked on his bed, and hopes Nikita will agree to take a bath. He knows the only way will be with him taking a bath too, so Steve takes clean clothes for himself out too. Then, he sits on the bed and bounces Nikita a bit, trying to wake him up.
Nikita does as soon as Steve says his name. If there’s something Steve has noticed, but he doesn’t want to think about, is that each time Nikita wakes up, he’s alert the second after he has opened his eyes. He doesn’t make a fuss, he doesn’t try to go back to sleep, he just opens his eyes and waits. Steve doesn’t know much about kids, but he knows this is one of the many things that shouldn’t be happening.
“What do you say about taking a bath?” he asks, once Nikita’s eyes are on him. Steve strokes the back of his head, something he’s finding himself doing more and more with the hours passing, but Nikita doesn’t seem to mind, so Steve doesn’t stop.
“Should we take a bath together?”
Nikita sends a glance towards the seal placed on the bed, and then, he nods.
“Alright,” Steve says, “let’s go.”
Inside the bathroom, Nikita looks around himself, watches Steve open the tap to fill the tub with water, and then tries to hold the bottle of bubble bath while Steve pours a bit of it inside. It’s too big for his hands, but Steve unconsciously helps him hold it until the tub is full enough. Only after he realizes Nikita’s strength probably matches an adult man’s.
It’s hard with Nikita plastered to his side and it takes more time than usual, but he still manages to first take the pants of his uniform off, and then the rest, shifting Nikita from one arm to the other to take the sleeves off. Afterwards, he takes Nikita’s hoodie, the matching sweatpants and his socks off.
Once they’re both in their underwear, Steve pauses. He glances at Nikita, who’s looking back at him, waiting, and then, without thinking about it more than he should, he just enters the tub, sitting down to let the warm water and bubbles submerge the both of them.
Nikita doesn’t make a sound, but Steve still studies his face for the whole time. He doesn’t look distressed or scared. Actually, his face’s neutral, and Steve kind of despises it. Like a perfect soldier, his mind provides, and Steve hates himself for thinking about that. But it’s the truth, isn’t it? Nikita was supposed to become a perfect soldier, and Steve’s certain they were already training him to some degrees.
“Do you like it?” he speaks to distract himself from his own thoughts, but also because he wants Nikita to feel comfortable enough with him, to know that he can speak if he wants to, that Steve’s words weren’t lies and he will never really hurt him.
Nikita nods, using the hand that isn’t wrapped around Steve’s neck to move some of the bubbles around. Steve watches him, and even if his face is still neutral, his eyes seem content, the blue isn’t as dulled out as it was when Steve found him in the base, but almost as if there are sparkles in it.
At some point, Nikita takes a bit of bubbles in his hand and stands up with his feet planted on Steve’s thigh to place the bubbles on top of Steve’s head. He laughs, and when Nikita looks at him, Steve catches a faint smile on his lips, it’s just a corner of his lips lifted up that lasts only a brief second, but Steve sees it anyway and it immediately warms his chest. His arm wraps a bit tighter around Nikita’s waist and Steve thinks he will never let him go.
Steve won’t let anyone take him away from him.
Nikita takes more bubbles then, but this time, he lets them slide on the upper part of his chest that isn’t covered by the water, and Steve just lets him play for as long as he wants, even adding more body wash to make more bubbles appear. Nikita seems delighted by them, trying to cover all of Steve’s body.
Steve chuckles and places a bit of them on the top of Nikita’s head too. At that, Nikita stops and for a moment, Steve thinks he did something wrong, but then, he looks at him and this time, he’s smiling. Nikita’s actually smiling. Steve smiles back.
“You like bubbles?” he asks, stroking Nikita’s hair with the bubbles to wash his head. Nikita nods, and to prove his point, he takes more bubbles and places them again on Steve’s head, copying Steve’s movement of his hands.
“Thanks, bud,” Steve tells him, even if some slide down his forehead and he has to close one of his eyes. With quick fingers, he takes them away, not letting Nikita notice, and then starts to soap the rest of his body with gentle touches. Nikita doesn’t seem to mind, too caught up with the bubbles and Steve’s hair.
When he notices Nikita’s fingertips have gone pruney, “Hey, what do you say about rinsing off, getting dressed and trying some nice coloring books, or playing with the plushie?” Steve asks him, meeting his eyes. “The water is getting cold,” he adds, trying to convince him.
Nikita takes some time to decide, but in the end, he nods.
“Okay,” Steve confirms, then takes the shower head and shows it to Nikita. “I’ll wash us with this, yeah?”
He lets Nikita study it, opens the tap to show the way it works, and after Nikita has wrapped both arms around his neck and both legs around the sides of his torso, almost resembling a monkey, Steve stands up and tries to rinse them off as best as he can.
His towel is big enough for the both of them, so he first dries most of the water on their skin, and then wraps it around their bodies, making sure Nikita’s completely covered by it. His wet underwear starts to get uncomfortable once he gets out of the tub, but Steve ignores it, prioritizing getting Nikita dried and dressed first.
It’s when Steve’s drying Nikita’s hair with another smaller towel that it happens. The sound’s low, so low Steve knows he wouldn’t have caught it if his senses weren’t enhanced, and for the first few moments, he doesn’t register what truly happened.
“Steve,” Nikita whispers under his breath, his face lowered down to let Steve dry his hair, and at it, Steve’s heart stutters. It’s like he had been holding his breath for the whole time, since the moment he found Nikita in the base, and now that he has heard his voice, even if it was barely a sound, Steve can finally breathe. He wants to cry. He really wants to cry, and maybe there are a few tears that make his eyes sting, but Steve just blinks them away.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, placing the towel on the sink countertop, hand slightly shaking, and tries to keep his voice calm. “Can you repeat it for me?”
Nikita glances up at him, and with his fingers pressed against Steve’s chest, “Steve,” he says, a bit louder.
Steve nods with a gentle smile. “Yeah, I’m Steve.”
Nikita nods back, and then looks towards the door. From there, the seal Steve left on his bed can be seen.
“Do you want the seal?”
Nikita nods again, not moving his eyes away from it. “Okay, we’ll get dressed and then you can have it.”
Steve tries to dress Nikita, and then himself, as quickly as he can, still shaken by Nikita saying his name. Once he’s done, he sits down on the bed with his back rested against the headboard, Nikita sitting on his lap. Nikita holds the seal with one of his arms, even if it’s almost as big as him, and with the other hand he holds Steve’s finger.
He turns the TV on again, and this time, it catches Nikita’s attention, since he lies back against Steve’s chest and watches the cartoon that’s playing on it.
For the first time ever, Steve leans his head forward and presses his lips against the top of Nikita’s head. It’s a gentle kiss, barely a brush against his short hair, but it feels right.
“You’re safe with me,” he whispers, silent tears in his eyes, “and I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”
Nikita’s fingers squeeze his own just a bit tighter.
The morning after, Steve and Nikita have breakfast together in the shared kitchen. Steve wants him to get used to the Compound, to understand that as long as he’s in it, no matter which floor or part, nothing bad will happen to him.
He still doesn’t want to let go of Steve, so he opts for yogurt, cereal and dried fruits for both, a glass of orange juice for Nikita and a mug of coffee for him. This time, when Steve sits down at the table to eat with Nikita sitting on his thigh and gives him a spoon, Nikita doesn’t look at him to ask for permission. He just starts eating, glancing only once in a while at Steve’s own bowl, as if he wants to make sure Steve’s eating too.
It’s progress, small, but it’s progress. At least, he stopped wanting to have his eyes on Steve all the time. He still goes to wrap his arms behind Steve’s neck each time Steve tries to put him down, but Steve thinks it’s momentary, that probably once he will understand Steve won’t go anywhere even if he isn’t holding Nikita, maybe he will start to walk around on his own.
He hasn’t said Steve’s name again. He actually hasn’t said anything at all, but hopefully with time, he will start speaking too. Steve will have to talk to Bruce or the other doctors to ask about what they should do, if they will have to find a child psychologist soon, or if it’s better to wait until Nikita seems comfortable enough with other strangers.
Steve doesn’t know much about these things, he doesn’t know much about children in general, so he’s mostly going with what his guts tell him to do. Besides, even if he knew something more about them, he wonders if it could still be applied to Nikita, considering where he comes from. Maybe to some extent, and maybe the rest would just be trial and error.
He sighs, running his fingers through his hair, and then he watches Nikita finish his bowl, reaching for the glass of juice. Steve moves his hand under it, just in case it’s too heavy, but Nikita seems capable enough. Right, super-soldier and all, how could he forget.
Nikita turns around to glance at him, and Steve smiles, stroking his hair. “Are you still hungry?” he asks, to which Nikita shakes his head.
“What do you say about going out for a while? To take a walk?” he suggests. The weather is nice and it isn’t too cold, so maybe if Nikita sees the lawn surrounding the Compound he will want to get down and run around.
Nikita points to the seal Steve placed on the chair by their side. “Yeah, of course he can come with us,” he tells him, and only after his words Nikita nods.
They take the elevator to go down, and for the first time since the moment Steve found Nikita, he pauses to actually look at the both of them through the reflection of the mirrored doors. At the way Steve looks with a kid in his arms.
Nikita’s face is turned up towards the numbers changing at the top of the doors, body twisted to lean back against Steve’s arm, but still keeping his own arms wrapped around Steve’s neck with the seal held tight into his hands. Nikita’s small, or maybe it’s Steve who’s too big, so he makes him look even smaller, and yet, the picture he sees in the mirror isn’t wrong. It doesn’t feel weird, or like it’s something he would never imagine to see. Nikita leaning against his chest feels right, Steve’s arms wrapped around him feel like they belong there, and the more he looks at them, the more he thinks about something that until the day before yesterday he had never thought about.
Steve doesn’t know anything about kids, but he’s willing to try. He’s willing to do his best to make sure Nikita won’t ever feel the kind of fear he felt until then, to make him feel safe and loved, and to let him be just a four year-old child.
It’s something new, but Steve can learn. After all, no one is ever born a parent.
Outside, Nikita doesn’t want to be put down, so Steve tells him it’s alright and just starts walking, ignoring the few people who are there and keep sending them a mix of confused and curious glances. Steve understands, it isn’t like they see Captain America walking around with a kid on his hip everyday.
There isn’t much to see, but Nikita keeps his eyes on their surroundings for the whole time, studying the Compound, the water of the river, then the two Quinjets parked near the Hangar. Steve doesn’t say anything, even if he wishes he could know what Nikita’s thinking about. If he likes it there, or if he wants them to get closer to the banks of the river, but he just watches Nikita keep shifting his eyes from one part to another, gaze almost curious.
“Do you want to go and sit over there?” Steve asks, pointing to the wooden bench near the bank of the river, where sometimes Steve likes to go to read a book or just to be with his own thoughts.
Nikita glances at where Steve’s pointing at, and then he nods, pointing in the same direction.
Steve switches the arm he’s using to hold Nikita, and, “Do you like it here?” he asks. Nikita nods.
It’s when Steve looks away that he speaks.
“Yes,” he whispers, and Steve almost trips on air, surprised to hear his voice. He whips his head to meet his eyes, and the way Nikita’s looking back at him tells him he’s nervous. Maybe he thinks he can’t speak, so he’s testing the waters to see how Steve reacts, or maybe it’s something else, Steve doesn’t know. What he knows, though, is that he can’t let himself be taken aback each time it happens, he can’t know how Nikita could interpret the silence that follows whenever he speaks, so Steve smiles, soft and gentle, and goes to stroke his fingers against the back of his head.
“Yeah?” he says, “it’s nice, isn’t it?”
Nikita nods again, and, “Yes,” he repeats, louder. Steve hums, content, the smile on his lips getting just a bit bigger.
Steve sits on the bench under the canopy and lets Nikita adjust himself however he likes against his body. In the end, Nikita sits on his lap sideways with his temple rested against Steve’s chest, both of his arms wrapped around the seal and his feet planted on the bench near his thigh.
“I really like coming here,” he tells him, eyes fixed somewhere on the water, “it’s peaceful.” It makes him forget that behind him, only a few minutes of walk away, there’s all of his duties. On that bench, he’s just Steve Rogers, never Captain America.
“Sometimes, there are also ducks in the water,” he comments, and at his words, Nikita looks up at him, eyes curious.
“You like ducks?” Steve asks, unsure, not really understanding what Nikita is thinking about.
Nikita doesn’t answer, he just glances at the river and after back at him, but Steve keeps not understanding. He tries to mask the frustration that’s bubbling in his chest, not because he wishes Nikita would speak, but because he wishes Steve could understand him right away, without having to guess what Nikita’s trying to tell him.
Then, Nikita points at his sweatpants, they’re a dark gray and Steve’s certain there was a matching hoodie somewhere in the packages too, but he couldn’t find it that morning, so he just picked a sweatshirt with a green little being, maybe an alien, printed on it. He doesn’t think the sweatpants are the problem, though. When Steve changed his clothes, he seemed comfortable enough with the new ones, so it must be something else.
Nikita does the movement again. He points at his sweatpants, one finger brushing against the fabric, and then at the river.
Steve can’t understand what Nikita’s trying to tell him, and the confusion on his face must be the reason why soon after Nikita starts to get nervous. Steve notices the way he clutches his fingers a bit tighter around the softness of the seal, and his breath gets slightly uneven, as if he’s trying to breathe regularly, but he just can’t bring himself to.
He doesn’t want to panic, but the longer he won’t understand what Nikita means, the more it will make him nervous. Steve doesn’t want to lose the small progress they achieved, so he lets his brain work as quickly as he can to understand.
“Ducks?” he tries again, uncertain. He doesn’t even know if Nikita is talking about ducks or something completely different.
Nikita nods and points at his sweatpants again.
It’s then that something clicks in his head.
“Oh,” he exhales, “sorry, bud, I already forgot how your pajamas are. But yes, the ones on them were ducks, the same that come here.”
Nikita seems satisfied with his answer, and when he shifts a bit to look better towards the river, Steve silently takes a deep breath, making himself relax once again.
It will take time for Nikita to speak, Steve’s certain of that, and even if a few words here and there, or pointing at things won’t be enough for him to understand what Nikita means, he still has to try his best, just like with everything else concerning Nikita. He can’t give up. Nikita doesn’t have anyone and Steve doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of the Government taking Nikita under their protection. He’s aware of what kind of protection they’d put him under. Kinder than HYDRA, but still with the expectation for Nikita to become what he was created for, only on the opposite side.
Steve knows Nikita’s Bucky’s son, he doesn’t need a DNA test to know, and even if Bucky’s a ghost, hiding in the shadows, Steve’s still his next of kin. Has been since 1943. They never talked about it, not because Steve didn’t want to, but because it was something left unsaid between the two of them.
The war was out there, they all knew when soldiers left, but no one could tell when they would’ve come back. If they would’ve come back. And Bucky didn’t want his Mother or his sisters to be the ones to receive a letter which would’ve told them Bucky was never going to come back home. So before leaving, he legally changed his next of kin from them to Steve.
When Steve woke up, he never thought about changing it back, and Bucky’s family didn’t either, so by law, Steve’s still Bucky’s next of kin. He knows what it means. If Nikita’s Bucky’s son, and Steve knows he is, then it means that Steve has every right to declare himself as Nikita’s legal guardian. As long as Nikita is recognised as Bucky’s son, then no one could take him away, and Steve will fight tooth and nail for Nikita to become Nikita Barnes.
He hopes, deep down in his chest, that one day Bucky will not be a ghost anymore, that he will let them find him, and until that day, Steve will do his best to take care of Nikita.
Because he knows Bucky will come back home.
This time, it isn’t a war.
Natasha finds them there on the bench.
It’s Nikita who notices her first, Steve’s too lost into his own thoughts and to his defense, Natasha’s always so quiet.
Nikita shifts, standing straighter against his chest to look behind Steve’s shoulder, and it’s then that Steve realizes someone’s coming their way. It’s also the first time Nikita acknowledges someone else’s presence.
“Hey,” Natasha greets him, after she sits by his side, and Nikita goes back to ignore her, one hand wrapped around the seal’s flipper and the other playing with Steve’s fingers.
“Hey, Nat,” Steve greets her, “I thought you already left.”
She smiles, shaking her head. “No,” she tells him, “I’m leaving later this afternoon.” Steve doesn’t know much about the operation she has been requested to do, but if she hasn’t said anything about it, then it means no one is supposed to know much beside her. Steve never asks.
“I found something,” she says then, a USB flash drive in her fingers. “It was encrypted, still easy enough to crack, though. There wasn’t much information, but you were right.”
He doesn’t need to ask about what. Steve already knew. This is only a confirmation.
“They made him,” she adds, and Steve’s thankful she isn’t being straightforward. Nikita seems like he isn’t interested in what she’s saying, but Steve’s aware that it could be just a tactic, that it could be something he learnt from HYDRA, and instead, he’s actually paying attention to her words. He’s four years old, but there’s still an unknown serum running through his veins, which surely doesn’t only enhance his physical traits. It’s better if they aren’t direct about the matter.
“You’ll find everything in this,” Natasha passes him the drive, and Steve closes his fingers around it in a fist. “Just—be careful when you look through it.”
She glances at Nikita then, “He wasn’t the first one,” she whispers, voice laced with a hint of sadness. Steve had hoped that 018 to be a random number, but deep down, he already knew it wasn’t as soon as he saw it.
Steve nods. “Thank you, Nat, really.”
“You have to contact Stark. Make sure they get to know about him only once everything’s already been finalized,” she says then, an urgency in her voice that wasn’t there until seconds before. An urgency Steve feels too. “He doesn’t exist, Steve, you know what will happen if they find out about him.”
“He’s my next of kin,” Steve reveals, blurting out the words. He has never told that to anyone, but if there’s someone he trusts the information with, it’s Natasha. “Before the war, he—he changed it. And what you found is enough to prove he’s his, so… I can—”
“Yeah,” Natasha cuts him off, not needing other words to understand what Steve means. “It’s for the best.”
Then, Nikita makes a soft sound that resembles a content hum, and Steve’s attention shifts back on him. Nikita’s still playing with Steve’s fingers, eyes fixed on them.
“What’s wrong, bud?” Steve asks him, but Nikita doesn’t give him a response, he just keeps playing. Steve can feel Natasha’s eyes on him, almost burning, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Do you want to leave?” he asks then, and Nikita shakes his head.
“Okay.”
After, with the seal still in one of his hands, he uses Steve’s shoulder as leverage to stand up on his thighs and lock his arms behind his neck, nestling his face where his neck meets his shoulder. Without even thinking, Steve wraps his arms around him.
When he looks at Natasha, he finds a small smile on her lips. But it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“It suits you,” she tells him, before Steve can have the time to say something. He doesn’t ask what suits him, because her next words are enough as an explanation. “Don’t let anyone take him away,” from you, is what she keeps to herself, but Steve hears it anyway.
He nods, and just like she came, she leaves, still too quiet.
Steve glances down at Nikita and finds him already looking at him.
“We’re in this together, yeah, bud?”
Nikita only blinks, but his fingers twitch against his nape. Steve squeezes him against his chest a bit tighter, a soft kiss pressed on the crown of his head.
Steve waits for Nikita to fall asleep after they have had lunch to check the contents of the drive Natasha gave him. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to face whatever he will find inside it, but he still needs to do it. For Nikita’s sake.
Before opening the file, Steve sends a last glance towards Nikita to make sure he’s still sleeping, using Steve’s left arm as a pillow and tucked against his side. He sighs, and then clicks on it. He doesn’t know what he was expecting to see, all the things they did to train him, maybe, but the first page is actually the translation of the medical chart Steve found in the base.
The experiment 018 at the top makes his stomach churn, makes him want to throw the laptop away. But he just takes a deep breath and keeps reading.
The way they made Nikita isn’t stated—Steve hates to think Nikita was made, but it’s the plain truth. For HYDRA, he has always been an experiment. One that came after the other seventeen failed ones, that didn’t matter if it failed or not, because they were ready for a nineteenth.
It doesn’t have a date listed as the date of birth, but the chart is labeled with January 9, 2011 so Steve assumes it’s the day Nikita was born.
The rest instead is just a list of all Nikita’s capabilities. Super-strength, heightened senses, higher intelligence, quick response to mental and physical stimuli, ability to adapt to complex situations. HYDRA wanted a super-soldier from birth, and it’s exactly what they got. Steve’s hands shake with anger.
Steve scrolls down, until he reaches a part titled “Rebirth of the Winter Soldier”. Multiple words are blackened, but Steve understands what it’s meant for. Create an army of super-soldiers from birth using Bucky’s DNA, which already contains the serum, instead of trying to recreate it from scratch. Steve didn’t need to read that to understand what HYDRA was trying to do, but if Nikita survived for four years, then it means they succeeded, or they were close to doing it.
The section after is about the failed experiments, but most of it is all blackened, and Steve almost feels relieved. His eyes fall on a nine months old: deceased—God. He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath again, and then once he opens them, he scrolls down.
The last page is the part Steve was dreading the most.
Nikita’s section.
The subject shows excellent response to all the physical and mental stimuli he’s exposed to: combat, stress-induced situations, deprivation of sleep and/or food highly tolerated maintaining clear-headedness, battle strategy, language learning—
Steve looks away. It’s too much. He doesn’t want to believe what he just read. He doesn’t want to believe that they let Nikita starve for their own agenda, that they didn’t let him sleep to push his limits and taught a four year-old child how to fight. Steve can’t process it, he just can’t.
He thought he needed to read it, that it would’ve been the right choice for Nikita’s sake, but maybe it’s better he doesn’t. Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t know what the rest says. He can easily imagine it anyway.
Steve glances down at Nikita and fixes his eyes on him. He wants to hold him, to have him wrapped into his arms, but Nikita might wake up if Steve moves him around too much, so he restrains himself back.
He’s here, he tells himself again and again, you won’t let anyone take him away from you. He repeats the words to himself in a loop, until they’re burnt in the back of his head, always lingering, not letting Steve forget the promise he made to himself.
It’s been a day since he found Nikita, only twenty-four hours, but Steve can’t imagine his life without him anymore. He just can’t. He can’t let someone else take him, whoever they might be. He won’t be able to pretend, as if he never met him, or to even forget him, leave Nikita to someone else and go on with his life. Steve knows he won’t ever be able to do either of that. It isn’t even a choice dictated by Nikita being Bucky’s son, but because he knows that if he did that, if he let someone else take Nikita away from him, he’d just hurt the both of them. And Nikita has been hurt already a lot. Too much.
Steve’s aware he doesn’t know a lot about children, but as much as he hates to admit it, he knows Nikita isn’t a child everyone could take care of. He was made to replace the Winter Soldier, to be a more powerful version of him, so Steve can’t just drop him to some orphanage and erase him from his mind. And he definitely can’t let the Government have him, they’d shape him and his whole life according to their interests.
Steve chose it, but Nikita never asked for any of this, and Steve has to make sure Nikita will always have the freedom to choose.