Path to Protection (BuckyBarnes x OC)

That Familiar Feeling

     Months started passing like the winter's breeze. Before I or anyone else knew it, New Year's came round and brought new ideas, people, and inventions to our organisation. One of the newest ideas we had was officially naming the organisation S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Phillips, Peggy, Howard, and I were claimed to be the founders of it. Although the idea was solely my own, I was happy to share the credit with the specific people who'd helped me so much in life.

     My mind kept reminding me of what I lost, but I thought back to all of the great things that I had, and it wasn't hard to feel happy again. James was growing fast; a few of our doctors even predicted that he'd inherited the serum, but, frankly, I thought that was a load of old poo. Yes, it seemed as if he grew rapidly, but that was what any parent would think. Before I knew it, he was already celebrating his fifth birthday and looked absolutely handsome.

     My work mostly required me in the office as I had to manage what work needed to be done and how it should've been executed. As a result, Peggy found herself a new field partner, Daniel Sousa, who was still a part of the SSR. When Carter invited him to collaborate, he didn't hesitate much, and it didn't take long before they started a long-overdue relationship. They spent a lot of time at our apartment, but I didn't mind their company.

     Operation Paperclip included more and more German scientists with strategic value, who were given the chance to apply their knowledge and ideas to our inventions. Even though they were given more freedom to explore different scientific fields, all inventions were eventually overlooked by Stark—who was also not doing too bad—so we were guaranteed control.

     The only thing that still bothered me, even after almost five years, was Zola. The tensions between the global powerhouses were still high, even if peace ruled for quite a while, and I found the doctor suspicious. He served a few years in prison after the war ended and was recruited shortly after to work in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s laboratories with our other scientists. His ideas were perfect for the future protection of our world, which we were planning on keeping safe. Yet, something about his actions, the way he talked, and even the way he carried himself, made me feel very sceptical of the man. I shared my concerns with Peggy, but she never took them seriously and only claimed I was still living in the past. Howard was the only one who also noticed Zola's occasional strange behaviour, but Howard insisted there was nothing he could do about it.

     So, I lived in caution. With me being the Chief Operations Officer of S.H.I.E.L.D., I had total control over what was going on inside the laboratories. That meant I could pay extra attention to the doctor and make sure that all of his work was for goodwill. Granted, he never did anything to confirm my suspicions and kept mostly to himself.

     Things changed rather quickly in January 1951.

     It was still December of 1950. The hour was getting close to midnight, which meant that a new year was soon to come. I sat at the window with Junior and Peggy, observing the light of the dimmed city. Our apartment was part of a neighbourhood in the city's outskirts and had a beautiful view of the metropolitan area. We were looking out at the starry, night sky with Junior sitting on my knees, leaning his little, brown-haired head over the ledge. I held him firmly, so he wouldn't fall.

     "Mommy, when are the fireworks starting?" he asked with his high-pitched voice, the 'r's not pronounced right quite yet. His big, blue eyes patiently demanded an answer.

     I took a moment to appreciate how much he resembled his father, and it made me remember that night James and I spent together on New Year's Eve. It made me remember the story he told me.

     "Soon, pumpkin, soon," I smiled as I rocked him up and down. Junior was a gentle soul and a favourable child. He was easy to put to bed with only a few lap rocks needed; the only situation where he'd throw a tantrum was when I took away his action figurines or when he had to eat his veggies. I got closer to Junior's ear and whispered mysteriously, "you know, boy, you're younger than your father was when he saw his first fireworks."