(This is a part 2 for my one shot Just A Kid From Brooklyn. I want to thank TotalGeek__ for giving me the idea and persuading me to create this one. I hope I did you proud! Also, listen to I (just) Died In Your Arms covered by: Hidden Citizens. This song is the perfect build and intensity for this one shot. I am so in love with this cover! Now, here we go!)

Metal scraped against the asphalt of the once busy street, as Steve Rogers's shield slid with him, as he went flying down against the rough concrete. His bent right arm fell upon the vibranium roughly, as his side slammed to the ground. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he felt the wind knocked out of him, his chest heaving at the impact inflicted onto his already bruised and battered body. Blood dribbled slowly from the corner of his slightly swollen lips, from the blow to the jaw that nearly knocked him clear out. And it fell upon the concrete in a small pool of crimson beneath his slightly wheezing figure. 

The man who had sunk him to the ground was clearly trained. Steve knew that, not only from the blows he was able to inflict on him, but from the way he sauntered towards him with a dark shadow behind his eyes. It was as though his brain was simply a computer program, and the single command was to kill. For it blazed in his eyes like a fire, a mission reflecting back at Steve in the only part of his face that he could see. And it was all he needed to see, to know that this man wanted him dead. Pummeled into the ground by his bare hands, with no chance of resurrection. 

Steve drew in a deep breath as he stumbled back to his feet. His hands clenched into tightly held fists as he gazed forward at his adversary, and watched as he trekked down the long stretch of road towards him. Conviction in every step his feet took as his black boots pounded against the asphalt, and his fists too, hung tightly wound at his sides. He started out heavily armed, an assault riffle shooting rapidly at Steve. But he had lost it long ago as Steve managed to knock it from his grasp, and watch it slide down the street away from his view. But it was clear, that this man needed no weapons other than the two hands God gave him. 

Steve stood firmly in place as the man reached closer, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. Echoing inside of him as his heart raced with adrenaline inside his chest. Smoke from a crashed vehicle nearby clouded the air around them, and Steve could feel the warmth of his blood still falling from his lips, but nothing registered in his head at that moment. His eyes were casted intently on the man who had suddenly stopped not more than a foot or two away from where Steve stood. And he watched, cautiously and with grave inquisitiveness as the man's hand reached up towards his face. 

The man stood so closely now, that Steve could make out the color of his eyes as they still stared straight towards him. As though they could burn a hole straight into Steve's tightening chest. They burned with something that almost seemed unhuman, and yet, there was something about the shade of blue that pricked at Steve's racing heart. Something familiar and haunting within the shadows of rage surrounding it. 

The man reached for the strap on his helmet that had been covering his face, keeping his identity hidden from Steve this entire time. And yet, now he watched as he simply unclasped it. All this time, he had fought to remain a mystery as he tried to destroy Steve Rogers, and here he was in a matter of seconds, revealing to him who he was. The man behind the mask. 

All sound drained from Steve's ears as the mask dropped to the ground, a pounding echo paining his brain from the way it seemed to bounce slightly on the concrete beneath them. He couldn't hear a thing, he couldn't even hear the way his lungs struggled for their next breath within his constricting chest. 

Steve Rogers looked forward at the smoky street before him, and the unmasked man that was trying to kill him. And lost all sensation in his body in that very moment... for the man before him wasn't a stranger. He wasn't a mystery, not anymore. 

Steve knew this man.

Her skin was wrinkled beneath the warm embrace of his own hand, and he could feel the coolness of her body. It felt as though someone had placed a single piece of ice into the palm of his hand, and all he could do was hold it there in his warm grasp. 

She was fading. There wasn't any question about it. For Steve could visibly see the bright light beginning to dim in her aged, but still just as beautiful as ever, eyes. The color in her cheeks had faded and she was left with a snow white complexion. One the seemed to go well with the pale shade of her long locks, that spread across the pillows her head rested on. 

She hadn't said much since the time Steve Rogers arrived at her room, taking a seat in the chair close to her bedside. She'd barely been aware he was there in the small bedroom with her, but he didn't care much if she consciously knew that he was there. Steve knew she could feel him, and to him, that's all that mattered. He wanted her to know in her heart, even if her brain didn't know it, that he was with her. That he was right here, holding her hand, at the end of her life. 

"Steve?"

Her voice had definitely changed from the years that had crept their way up on her, and yet he could still hear her as that girl he fell for all that time ago. Before he became Captain America and before he went under the ice for seventy some years. 

"I'm here."

He pressed his lips delicately to the tender flesh of her hand, and waited for her to respond. Her eyes fluttered softly, but she didn't have enough strength in her fading body to open them fully. 

"He's still out there."

Steve knew exactly who she spoke of. For there wasn't a day that went by, that he didn't think of the one person his heart tended to ache to see more, than the beautiful woman before him. She didn't speak of him much, the pain too much for her. But she answered his questions when he first returned, and told him that she no longer had contact with the boy. That he was lost from her, just as he had been.

"They have him, Steve." 

Steve's eyebrows creased, and he lent in closer. "Who has him?"

But she was gone before she ever had the chance to answer. 

What seemed to knock the air out of Steve Rogers's chest the most, was the fact that the person standing before him, was no man at all. He was hardened and chiseled as though he was one. But the person who stared deeply back at Steve, was nothing more than a boy. A young teen, draped in strong armor and strength, and one Steve knew. He knew this boy better than most, even if he had missed out on all those years of his life. 

The boy that looked back at Steve Rogers with those hauntingly familiar blue eyes, was his long lost son. 

He studied him as his body was numb to any sensation that ran through his veins, he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe, he could barely think as his eyes ran over a boy that had barely grown more than the time he went under the ice. How? How was it possible that he looked only a few years older than the time Steve left?

His spinning questions fell to the concrete alongside him as the boy charged at him, knocking him to his feet as he was clouded by confusion and unbelievability. That's why the boy took off his mask, to not only distract Steve but to cause him to drop all of his defenses. He was weakened by the sight of his son, and the boy preyed on that fact. 

Steve's head pounded from the collision against the hard asphalt road, but it compared in no way to the suffocating feeling of the boy's hand wrapped tightly around his throat. He was young, and yet he was just as strong as Steve seemed to be. His hands scratched and pried at his son's grip, but as he stared upward into the unnerving gaze that hovered above him, he saw only determination in his eyes. Shadowing like blackness that threatened to suck up all of the color they once held. He was keen on killing Steve, and he wasn't going to stop until it was done. 

Steve knew now, he understood it all in an instant, as he stared up weakly at the boy's face. His son's mission was to kill his own father. And Hydra must've done something to him, to insure that he wouldn't even realize who it was he was really here to kill.

"They're in your head," It burned to speak against the crushing pressure around his throat, but Steve still managed to croak out the words. "this isn't you. It's never been you."

The hand around his throat tightened, and Steve's vision began to blur with black spots in the corners. 

"You have no idea who I am." The boy snarled, his word dripped with venom and yet there was something robotic about his tone. The words were his own, but Steve knew his mind wasn't. They had taken him apart and put him back together in ways he couldn't even imagine. In ways he didn't want to imagine. This was a boy trapped inside the body of a living machine, and Steve would do all he could to free him.

"I do." Steve choked as he felt the burning pain in his chest from lack of oxygen. 

His eyes fluttered shut and it was almost a relief. For as his heavy eyelids shut, he saw her. He saw the way she used to run around after him when he was little, bouncing from room to room in a fit of laughter. He could hear them, their giggles echoing in the small house they had made their own. That little boy was still in here. Steve knew it.

"You have your mother's smile," He couldn't open his eyes, he could barely even tell if the words had entered the air at all. But he felt the smidgest of movements along his bruised throat, a shift in his hold. "and you have her laugh."

And suddenly, a rush of air entered Steve's screaming lungs, as the boy removed his hand from his throat. But he felt it cluch his shirt just below the collarbone, and as he began to open his eyes, he felt his body slam back against the ground. The boy did it once more, lifting his father up by the neck of his bloodied shirt, and slammed him mercilessly down against the concrete. 

"You," Steve wheezed at the shoot pain running down his spine from the impact. "you have her selflessness."

He had expected him to ram him to the floor again, but he instead slammed his fist to the side of Steve's jaw. Causing pain to flare through his body, making his mind scream out in agony. 

"Every bit of goodness inside of her," Steve breathed weakly through the blood collecting in his mouth. "is in you too."

Another blow found his face, and Steve was waiting for his lights to go out. Any minute now, he was sure. But they hadn't, and until they did, he wasn't going to give up on his son. 

"They've made you into a weapon. They've taken your mind captive and twisted it so far around, that you can't tell which way is right. But you're not what Hydra's created you to be."

It felt as though he was floating. Going higher and higher as everything around him seemed to get lighter. All of the pain inside of his body went numb, and he couldn't feel a thing anymore. Not the warmth of his blood trickling from too many places to count, and not even the harsh hit from his son's bloodied fist. 

"You don't know me," The boy threatened and his words seemed far away in Steve's ears.

But with the last surge of life still hanging on in Steve Rogers's body, he said the one thing he had been waiting to say all these years. 

"You're my son. That's who you are."

"And if you want to kill me, go ahead. I'm not going to fight you." Steve conceded, as his breath became fainter. "You're my son, and I love you." 

The boy's ears pounded as he gazed down at the man bloodied and bruised, clearly fading beneath his rough grasp. His brain twitched back and forth in pain as though it was a computer glitching. For as his brow furrowed at the dying man, there was something inside of himself that was tugged by the words he had spoken. His head told him one more punch, and the mission would be complete. And yet, the muscle thrashing inside of his painfully tight chest, told him something else. 

Perhaps, a father's love, was something Hydra hadn't planned on, when they were programming the boy to kill. Something they didn't see happening in a moment like this. Something they didn't believe would make much difference to a boy who had been washed of his old memories. But it did, for it broke through the walls that protected his mind, and released the child trapped beneath the crushing armor.   

"Dad?"

A/N: When TotalGeek__ shared this idea with me, I was stunned. It was an amazing idea, and one I had never even begun to think about. But as soon as I read the idea, I knew it was one I had to try. For it started flowing out of me as soon as the idea reached my brain. Thank you TotalGeek__ for commenting this idea and allowing me to use it. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope that you all did! I'm very happy with his one. It's got more action than I have ever really included before, but I was still able to include the emotional side of writing that I love to use. I'm very proud of what I've created here!💙

I also just want to take a quick moment to thank every single one of you who have continued to read and support this book. I value and appreciate every bit of feedback, vote, comment and just the fact that I know someone out there is reading what I've written. I'm so unbelievably proud of this book, as I truly believe this book holds some of my best writing I've ever had the privilege of writing in my life. And I love every single one of you beautiful readers who stick with me and my stories, one shot after one shot. Thank you... and I definitely love you all 3000.❤