When Warren wakes up, he feels like puking.

Wherever he is, it's unfamiliar to him. He doesn't know whose bed he's lying in, whose house this is, or how he got here. He's just here. And on top of that, his right arm hurts more than it ever has before in his entire life. When he puts even the tiniest amount of pressure on it to push himself to sit up, it feels like lightning is striking through him and he can't help but let out a pained whimper. Lifting it out from under the blanket, he can see that his wrist is all swollen and purple-y.

It doesn't matter, though. It doesn't matter how messed up his wrist is because he needs to get out. Everything comes rushing back to him like a wave. The computer, the scientist inside of it, and what he said. Subject 956. Natasha and Steve know.

Maybe Natasha understands. Maybe. She didn't have much of a reaction to hearing the hints of truth about Warren. But when Warren looked at Steve down in that basement, all he could see in his eyes was disgust, whether that be intentional or not.

But Warren isn't taking any chances anymore. He can't keep hiding the truth from them after what the computer announced. They'll ask questions, and Warren will be forced to either answer them or lie, and he doesn't want to do either of those things. Just like when he's with foster families, it's better to leave before anyone gets too close. If Steve gets too close, he'll find out the truth. He'll hurt Warren, just like he hurt HYDRA soldiers back in the 1940s. Warren is positive that the safest option is to leave.

Leaving would be a whole lot easier if he had the clothes he used to wear on missions. He would be able to disappear completely if he had what he needed, but for now, he'll just have to use what he's able to.

So, as silently as he possibly can, Warren slides out of the bed, cradling his bruised wrist close to his chest. He tiptoes over to the door of the bedroom, peaking out into the hall. There's a man Warren doesn't recognize in the kitchen and Natasha is sitting at the table. Steve, however, isn't in view from the doorway. Warren leans back against the wall, taking a very deep breath. He needs to get out. He needs to be safe.

Not a second later, he turns himself invisible and starts to sneak his way down the hall. The biggest problem about this hall is that there's an open space beside the kitchen, and Natasha is facing it.

For the first few steps down the hall, Warren is generally very quiet, slow, and careful not to get caught. But the space by the kitchen is too big for him to slowly sneak past. When he gets to it, he pauses just for a moment, peeks his invisible head around the corner, and waits until Natasha looks down at her plate before booking it to the doorway. He makes it past, but as soon as he uses his left hand to twist the doorknob, it makes a bit of a jingly noise. Warren cringes as a chair scrapes against the wooden floor.

"Steve? Is that you?" Natasha gets up out of her chair.

Warren pulls the door open recklessly, letting it slam loudly against the wall behind it and booking it out the door. Unfortunately for him, Natasha is much faster than he's ever been. The moment Warren makes it to the sidewalk, he's being grabbed from behind and pulled backward toward Natasha. Now having given up on his invisibility, he uses all of his energy to kick and thrash, but it isn't any use. No matter how hard he fights, how loud he screams, Natasha doesn't let him go. Soon, he's out of Natasha's hold and in Steve's instead, and Steve is one of the strongest people Warren knows exists. It's impossible to get away from him.

Warren's lungs feel like sandpaper as he panics. He's sure he's going to die or be punished at the very least. He needs to get out, but he can't. He can't run this time. Steve won't let him go.

The more Warren fights, the more his arm hurts so badly he thinks he's gonna pass out. But he is relentless. He kicks, he screams, he cries, he hits, and hell, he even tries to bite Steve. "Let me go! Let me go! I'm sorry!" Warren shouts in a raspy voice as Steve laboriously brings him back inside the house. "No! Let me go! It's not my fault! I didn't know!"

Natasha, Steve, and even the man Warren doesn't know are all saying things to him, trying to figure out why he's suddenly panicked and attempting to get him to calm down, but it doesn't work. It's like Warren can't even hear them, and really, he can't. All he feels is terror. He doesn't want to have to withstand whatever Steve, Natasha, the stranger, or any other good person is going to do to him now that they know he is from HYDRA. He doesn't want to be beaten, starved, locked in a cell, or killed. He just wants to run.

"Let go of me! Let go!" he screams once more. Now that they're back inside the house and Natasha is guarding the door, Steve finally listens. He doesn't understand why Warren is acting this way, but he lets go of Warren and allows him to scramble away from him in fear regardless. Tears are pooling at the edges of the boy's eyes now, full of both fear and contrition as he stares up at Steve. "I'm sorry! I didn't know! I didn't-!"

Now that he's really looking up at Steve and that he can see his lips moving, Warren can hear and make out what he's saying.

"Warren, what is wrong?" Steve asks breathlessly. He's worried he's done something to scare him or somehow hurt him, but he doesn't know what he possibly could have done. "Did I do something?"

"I didn't know. I didn't know!" Warren is still panting.

"What didn't you know?" Natasha asks.

Steve crouches down a bit, so that he's not towering over the boy on the floor. "What are you apologizing for?" he asks in a gentle voice, trying to make his face look as soft and kind as he can manage. The fear in Warren's glassy eyes is getting to him, making his heart ache. He doesn't understand why Warren is suddenly so afraid and he doesn't understand why the look in the boy's eyes makes his heart so heavy. He barely knows Warren, but something is pulling at Steve. "You didn't do anything wrong, buddy," he tells Warren.

The words practically make Warren melt. His terrified and guilt-ridden look turns to nothing but a broken, yet relieved frown. His frantic breathing begins to calm and he starts to rub his wrist, the pain coming back much worse than before. Still, though, he doesn't say anything.

In his mind, however, thousands of questions and thoughts tear through him like a hurricane. He has done things that are wrong—especially wrong in Steve Rogers' view of the world. So why isn't he angry? Why isn't he furious? Why isn't Warren locked alone in a dark room already? He should at least have a few fresh wounds or bruises, but all he has are the healing scabs on his chest and his throbbing arm, neither of which are from Steve or Natasha's doing. They haven't punished him in the slightest and it doesn't even seem like they want to. It doesn't make any sense.

"How about we go back in there and get that wrap around your wrist?" Natasha suggests. She slowly comes up behind Warren, hoping not to scare him, and helps him up off the floor. "It'll help your arm stop hurting so much. Come on."

Albeit hesitantly, Warren lets Natasha lead him back into the bedroom he had run from, Steve following after them. Once he's sat back down in bed, Natasha begins to wrap his wrist with the bandage, tight enough that he can barely move it at all. That's a good thing, though, considering that when he moves it, it sends lightning bolts of pain all through his arm. As soon as the wrap is secured, Warren lays back against the pillow and Natasha sits at the end of the bed. Warren feels like he can breathe again.

Beside the bed, Steve pulls up a chair and sits down. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He fumbles for his words. Does he ask what was wrong? If Warren is okay? Why he's sorry? Or does he wait for Warren to explain when he's ready?

Luckily for him, Natasha seems to know what to do, or at least she acts like she doesn't. Without hesitation, she goes right ahead and asks, "Do you want to tell us what that was about?"

Warren almost starts to cry again. Instead, he averts his eyes to the floor and tugs the covers—a barrier—further up over his shoulders. It's easy to tell what he's feeling. So easy that the word is practically written in big, disgusting letters across his forehead. GUILT. Self-hatred. A complete and full understanding, now, that what he did for HYDRA was wrong. That he is just like the soldiers on the screen, mindlessly saluting and doing whatever is asked of them. An understanding that he isn't like the other kids he'd sit beside at the library, or the ones he'd walk past on the street, or the ones he'd watch on the TV. He isn't like any of them because he is bad.

"Warren," Natasha says. She sees a younger version of herself in the guilt on his face. "You know, I wasn't always on the good side, either."

His face softens, and he looks over at her. "You weren't?" Warren asks in a whisper.

"No. I was a lot like you." Used for what she could give when she didn't know any better. Psychologically conditioned into thinking that bad things were good and that she deserved the way she was treated. Natasha shrugs her shoulders a little. "It's not our fault, though," she tells him.

Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault. The words repeat themselves in Warren's mind to the beat that his heart drums.

The room is silent. The blanket slumps back down to Warren's chest, rather than tight up to his chin, and his eyes shift around. Natasha lets him think through everything while Steve stays quiet. He doesn't know what to say.

Honestly, Steve feels angry. Not at Warren, though. At HYDRA, of course, and even a little at himself. He was supposed to have put HYDRA to its death over seventy years ago, but he failed. And now lying there in front of him is undeniable evidence of that. A little boy, only seven, having to carry the weight of having hurt people for all the wrong reasons. A little boy who was raised—if anyone can even consider what they did to Warren 'raising' him—by heartless monsters. A sweet and curious kid with a hell of a lot of heart who has spent his life in a cage. Because HYDRA still exists and is more powerful now than ever before.

Not to mention the fact that Warren likely isn't even the only one. There are probably hundreds of children all over the world going through the same things he did—letting the same guilt break them to bits and wondering how the world could be as cruel as it is. And there might even be thousands of people being experimented on by HYDRA. Just the same as Warren, and just the same as Bucky before Steve helped him and the rest of the Howling Commandos escape in 1943.

The same things Steve thought he stopped seventy years ago are still happening to this day, and little kids like Warren are the product of it.

Three words snap Steve out of his thoughts.

"The Winter Soldier," Warren murmurs. His glass eyes meet Steve's. "James. He's my papa."

Those words fly through Natasha and Steve's skulls and scramble their brains until they feel nothing but disbelief. The Winter Soldier. The assassin who shot Natasha all those years ago and the man who pulled the trigger on the bullet that killed Fury. Warren's father. It sounds almost impossible that the Winter Soldier could be a father in the first place, but Warren's father? It's almost contradictory. How could a killer like the Winter Soldier create a boy as sweet, curious, and pure-hearted as Warren?

Natasha's eyebrows furrow with concern. She opens her mouth to speak, but it takes a few seconds for the words to actually come out. "When you were in the car with Fury... He almost killed you."

Warren nods, but it's so small that they can't tell if it's intentional or not. He sniffs, wiping his face with his sleeve. "He has to do what they say," Warren tells them. He tugs on the hem of his shirt and squirms a little, contemplating whether or not he should go on.

He has an endless list of things he wants to tell them. Before now, though, Warren thought telling them anything would end with him being punished. Instead, all he's getting is empathy and kindness. It's confusing. Maybe, since there's no punishment for telling the truth, Warren can tell them all he wants.

Starting off slowly, Warren begins to tell them all that's on his mind and why he can't help but feel terrified. His voice shudders and breaks with nearly every other sentence, but no matter how weak, guilty, scared, or furious he is, he forces the words out of his mouth. He can't keep them inside anymore. He just can't. He needs to tell the truth.

"I don't... I don't know if HYDRA wants me back. I don't know if they want to catch me or you, or everyone. I'm just scared of them," he starts with, fresh tears already starting to flood his eyes. "I did what they said, but I was no good. But Papa—he does what they say and he's good at it. But Papa and the Soldier... they're not the same. Not really. They're different. Like the Soldier is the ghost story. But Papa is just Papa, and that's why they erase him. He- Papa told me to run. I did. But now HYDRA is back and I don't know if they're going to take me. I just- I want to be safe and free."

"What do you mean about your dad and the Soldier?" Natasha asks. It sounds like some kind of mind control, the way Warren is putting it, but is HYDRA capable of that at this point? Sure, she dealt with her fair share of manipulation and conditioning when she was in the Red Room, but it wasn't necessarily mind control. "Are the Soldier and your dad two different people?"

For a moment, Warren stops to think about it.

He has never thought about it that way. His Papa and the Soldier are like two different people, but not like two strangers are two different people. Papa can remember what he did when he was the Soldier, but the Soldier doesn't do much remembering at all. He doesn't think, it seems like. The Soldier does what he is told and that's about it. It doesn't feel like the Soldier is a person when Warren speaks to him. But he supposes he is.

Hesitantly, Warren nods. "Yes. But they are in the same body," he elaborates.

"And what about you? When you did bad things, were you a different person like the Soldier?" Natasha asks him.

"No. I was me. It's different," Warren answers. He swallows and bites down on his lip for just a second. "I just did. I don't know why. They said to, so I did."

"That's not important right now," Steve interjects. He looks at Natasha and ever so slightly shakes his head, hopefully getting the message across that he doesn't think any more questions about the Winter Soldier are necessary at the moment. They can wait. What is important right now—or at least what feels most important to Steve—is making sure Warren is okay.

He hates the look in Warren's eyes. Sad, watery, afraid. A little bit out of it. The eyes just seem so familiar. It makes Steve's gut twist.

"It's not your fault, Warren," Steve emphasizes one more time. It just doesn't look like Warren believes it fully. "You're only a kid. You didn't know any better. And what's important is that you're doing the right thing now by being honest, right?" Steve raises his eyebrows, a soft smile on his face.

Again, Warren gives a slow and small nod.

"Whether they're after you or not, we're not letting HYDRA touch you," Steve assures him.

The words make Warren's chest feel warm and heavy. It's nice for him to know that someone cares enough about him to keep him safe, even after he has told them the bad things he's done. Of course, his papa cared about him and made it known when he got the chance to show it. It wasn't often that he got that chance, though. When the Soldier wasn't being used to kill, he was usually just put away in cryofreeze. There weren't many instances where he got to spend time with Warren as himself. As James. But James loves Warren more than anything in the world, and Warren loves him, too. It's just hard to know for sure when they barely get to see each other in their right minds.

Hesitant and gentle, Steve reaches forward to brush Warren's hair away from his eyes. Warren doesn't jump. He doesn't flinch, brace for impact, or turn invisible. He lets it happen. He trusts Steve enough, now. Now that he knows punishment isn't the same with Steve and Natasha as it was with HYDRA or in certain foster homes, Warren can accept softness without an underlying fear of sudden change.

"What are we going to do?" Warren whispers, his eyebrows all pinched together with concern.

"About what?" Natasha asks.

"SHIELD- or HYDRA. Both."

"We're gonna figure that out with my friend Sam," Steve tells him.

"Sam," Warren murmurs as if testing out the name. "Is that whose house we are in?"

"Yeah. We're safe here. Don't worry."

For some reason, Warren believes him without question. Maybe because he's Captain America, or maybe because he's Steve Rogers. Either way, it's funny how quickly things can change.

✮

Huddled around Sam Wilson's kitchen table, Natasha and Steve work at coming up with a plan while Warren watches some Disney movie in the next room over. They need this over and dealt with as soon as possible, obviously. It's HYDRA they're dealing with and it's not like they can just go on the run with Warren and hope the situation works itself out. Still, though, whatever they do has to be fast, efficient, and safe. 

So far, their plan consists of a few things. First things first, they need information—particularly information on Zola's Algorithm—which they have decided most easily comes from a man named Jasper Sitwell. Sitwell isn't necessarily at the top of the top, because that's where Alexander Pierce sits, but Pierce is a whole lot harder to get to than Sitwell. So Sitwell will have to do. That only leaves them with how they're going to get to Sitwell in broad daylight without being seen. 

And as it turns out, Sam Wilson isn't only useful for his home as a hideout. During his time serving in the Air Force, he worked his way up until he had access to technology that gave him his own extraordinary capabilities. From the pictures he shows Steve and Natasha, it looks like some advanced type of jetpack with wings. Whatever the technicalities are, the wings serve as a key point in their plan.

They will lead Sitwell up to the roof of a building with the threat of a red dot on his chest, otherwise known as a potential bullet straight through his heart, and up there, they will scare the life out of him until he fesses up. Natasha will throw him off of the building, Sam will catch him, bring him back up, and he'll answer every question they have. Hopefully.

The only problem is that with Natasha and Steve on the roof with Sitwell and Sam in the sky with his wings, there's no one to keep an eye on Warren. That's what the trio is trying to figure out now.

"He could come with us," Natasha suggests with a shrug.

Steve, however, shakes his head at that. "I don't think he should be any more involved in this than he already is."

"He won't be involved. He'll just... happen to be there."

"Natasha," Steve sighs exhaustedly.

"What? Let's be realistic here, Steve. He was a child assassin, whether he was great at it or not, so he's not helpless. He has survival instincts. If anything were to go wrong, he'd be fine. We'd be there to keep him safe."

"Sure, physically. But it's not just about that," Steve counters.

He rests his elbows on the table, rubbing at his eyes. He hasn't gotten a moment to rest his body or his brain since this all began. He could use a break, but there's not a chance of him getting one, so he has to roll with the punches. It's easier said than done, even for the great Captain America. And Warren's eyes, plastered in his mind like a light after you look at it for too long, aren't helping his thoughts calm. Something about the boy is so familiar that Steve wonders if he has seen him sometime before, or maybe somehow in a dream or something. It sounds stupid, but he can't stop thinking about it, no matter how hard he tries.

"He's tired. It's on his face. He needs a break from all the chaos. We're not bringing him with us."

Natasha tries her hardest not to scoff. She understands, too, how tired Warren must be, but there are bigger priorities at the moment. Steve is just stuck on it and it's hard not to be at least a little bit annoyed by that. "It's kind of hard to hire a babysitter when you're a fugitive," she deadpans.

Before the argument can persist, Sam cuts in. "I have a suggestion," he says. Steve and Natasha both turn to him, glad for someone else to have a solution. "How about he waits in the car?" When he's met with silence, Sam holds his arms out at his sides. "What? It'll be my car. HYDRA won't know he's in it. We'll still be nearby. We crack the windows, he locks the doors, and he's fine. Besides, it'll give him some time to chill. My mom used to do it all the time when I was a kid and she had to run into the store for something. It's fine."

Steve doesn't say anything, though his thoughts on the matter run rampant in his brain. Natasha, on the other hand, is already all for the idea. "Warren! Come in here!" she calls out into the other room.

Not ten seconds later, Warren appears in the doorway. "Hmm?"

"We have an errand to run. Mind riding along and waiting in the car for us?" Natasha asks him.

Warren shrugs. "Don't care."

Natasha turns to Steve, raises her eyebrows, and cocks her head to the side. "See? It's fine."

The only response Steve gives is another exhausted sigh. He's not too keen on leaving Warren alone to wait in the car, considering he's not a dog, but it's better than bringing him with them. Besides, their options are incredibly limited. There is no space to be picky when they're on the run from HYDRA-slash-SHIELD. So locked doors and cracked windows will have to do for now.

✮

okay before you guys get all "why didn't steve realize warren was talking about bucky??" on me, let's keep in mind that steve watched bucky fall from a moving train, down into a ravine over half a century ago. he has absolutely no reason whatsoever to suspect that the "james" warren mentions off-handedly is bucky. don't get mad at me pretty please.