#dumdum

The first memory you have is the cage. It’s tall enough to stand in without hitting your head. Around you are a few other kids, all the same age, roughly two, maybe three. Scars from constant needle pricks litter everyone’s inner arms, especially around the inner elbow. It’s cold, and you’re all wearing identical beige shirts and shorts. You have a faint feeling that there’s someone missing. Like there used to be more of you. 

Through the thin twisting wires, you can see a small handful of people in long white coats working at desks, storing documents in massive metal cabinets lining the walls. Soon, they leave.  

The dim overhead lights turn off quickly after that, tossing all of you into darkness. You curl up together. Dirt and grime from the floor gets everywhere. Your hair, skin, nails, and clothes are all layered with it. Your eyes drift closed, and you dream of a woman whose face you can’t quite remember holding you.

You wake up when the boy curled next to you starts shaking violently. The other kids wake up, too. All you can do is watch. Most times this happens, the kids wake up fairly quickly, cry a little, and are fine.

One of the dreaded men comes in to monitor the fit. He wears a white coat which goes to his knees. When the shaking stops, he waits a moment. The boy doesn’t move. He pulls a stethoscope from around his neck, presses it to his chest, listens for a moment, then lifts the boy up and takes him away. 

You remaining kids cuddle up in an even smaller pile than before and try your best to sleep.

Another memory is from a long time later. It’s just you and a girl in the cage now. You’re maybe four years old, and have just woken up. 

Two white-clad men walk in, and as one reaches to unlock the cage, you and the girl scamper to the opposite side and press yourselves against the metal. Clinging to the bars is futile, as he simply reaches in, grabs your ankle, and drags you out. He passes you to his companion, and reaches back in for the second child. 

She bites his hand and he curses quietly, but keeps his grip and pulls until he has a screaming, thrashing child in his arms.

“This one,” He says, shaking his head, “Always biting.”

“Calm that thing down,” The man holding you said. “These are the last two, we can’t risk losing another one.”

Their harsh voices echoed off the walls as they walked. Through the doors, straight, left, up a flight of stairs, and through swinging double doors. You’d made this trip more times than you could count, which wasn’t saying much since you were four.

The man put you down on a cold, metal table, and helped his coworker strap the other kid into a chair. It was so tiny. Specially made for her. She fought against the straps, like she always did. She was strong, for a child. She helped you feel safe. 

They pulled a curtain around her, and that was the last time you saw her. Things get worse after that. Since there was no one else left for them to poke and prod, all of that fell to you. The cage felt colder at night. 

One day, just as the overhead lights rattled on, very loud noises and shouts echoed through the halls. Raised voices weren’t super uncommon, the guards weren’t the most peaceful of people, but this was louder. 

You scrambled as far from the cage’s door as you could, hands clamped over your ears. Something rammed against the door once, twice and it burst open. Men carrying large guns swept the room. One saw you. 

He had a dark blue jacket, brown pants covered in pockets, and short dark hair. 

“Hey, Dumdum,” He called quietly to one of his friends, “Look at this.”

A short man with a large mustache walked over, brow furrowed.

“A… child?” He asked. “I knew they were twisted but…”

The blue-clad man took a step closer, and you shrunk even further into the shadows. 

“You’re okay,” He said, putting his hands up, palms facing you. He crouched slightly to be at eye-level with you. Your eyes fell on the gun that was now slung across his shoulder. He followed your gaze, and made a big show of putting it on the ground.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said.

You didn’t move at first, but your grip on the metal cage loosened. Slowly, you put one hand on the ground, and started crawling towards him. He held out his hand, and you took it after another moment of hesitation.

He picked you up out of the cage and held you with one arm. 

You were scared, yes, but you could tell he wasn’t with the scientists, so maybe wherever he was taking you was better. You looped your arms around his neck and propped your chin on his shoulder. You watched the cage get smaller as the man walked towards the door.

The mustachioed man stayed behind, looking through papers from the many filing cabinets. 

You’re carried through the halls, at first familiar, then they grew stranger. Eventually you reach the final door. He walked though it and you were bombarded by vibrant greens and blues. There’s people walking everywhere, all with such purpose, from trucks to the door, or back out again. Mud caked the ground where they walked, their many feet had quickly worn a path through the grass. Most people had guns strapped in holsters. The trucks had extras, too. The light was so bright, unlike anything you’d ever seen. 

It was all too much. You tucked your face into the crook of the man’s neck, blocking out most of the light. 

“It’s bright,” You said quietly. 

“Jesus,” He whispered, “Did they not take you outside?” He didn’t really need an answer. He already knew. 

“Is this better?” He asked after a moment. You looked up, and saw you were inside one of the trucks. It was darker, and quieter. You nodded.

“Alright,” the man said. “We can stay here.” 

You looked around some more, still not daring to let go of the man’s jacket. Something shiny caught your eye, and you pointed. The man followed your finger, and picked up the metallic thing.

“This?” He asked. You nodded.

“It’s a canteen,” he unscrewed the cap and took a sip. “Want some?”

The two of you stayed there for a while. You’d point to something, and the man would explain it. After everything in the truck had been thoroughly investigated, you pointed to him.

“Me?” He asked. “I’m Bucky. Who are you?” 

“I don’t know,” you said. 

“Well, what did they call you?”

“Number Sixteen. But I don’t like that. I think–” 

You were interrupted by the canvas cover of the truck being pushed aside, and about a half-dozen people clambering in. They were loud; you shrunk into the space between Bucky and his arm, tiny fingers digging into his jacket sleeve. 

He shifted to make room for someone to sit next to him, and moved you so you were sitting on his leg. The truck’s engine rumbled to life and it lurched forward. You leaned against him and closed your eyes.  

“I found their file,” the man next to Bucky said, passing a folder to him. His eyes skimmed over the pages. There were photos of experiment setups, logs of their results, growth milestones you reached, every little thing about you from the past four years. Stapled to the back page was the information from when they caught you.

“It says their parents named them Y/n Y/l/n.” 

Somewhere deep down that name resonated with you. You curled up in Bucky’s arm, and fell asleep. 

You half-woke up when the truck stopped. You felt Bucky stand up, still cradling you against his chest. He started to pass you to someone standing on the ground, and your eyes instantly snapped open. You shrieked, and clawed out of his hold. You scrambled across the dusty ground, and snuck under the truck. 

The rest of the world continued on, people unloading trucks, and moving boxes. All you could see was their boots stomping by. The truck shook slightly, like someone had just hopped off it, and soon Bucky’s face peeked under the truck.

“What’re you doin’ down here?” He asked. 

“I don’t know him,” you said, referring to the person Bucky had passed you to. 

“Well, we can fix that,” Bucky smiled. “His name’s Steve. He’s my best friend, and I promise he’s nice.”

Having successfully coaxed you out from under the truck, and introducing you to Steve, Bucky brought you to the mess hall. You had to stand on the bench just to see over the tabletop. Bucky sat to your right, and Steve was to your left. 

While eating, Bucky introduced you to a few other people. He called them the Howling Commandos. It was a little overwhelming to be suddenly bombarded by so many new faces, but you were alright so long as Bucky was close by.

“I’m gonna take them to the medical tent,” Bucky said to Steve, as you were wrapping up your meals. “So they can get a once over.”

“I’m going the same direction,” Steve said, “Might as well walk with you.”

The dirt paths through the camp were lined with long, dry grass. You walked with one hand in Bucky’s and the other trailing through the thin strands. A grasshopper sprang out in front of you. You stopped suddenly, and crouched down to get a better look. Its little shiny eyes stared up at you.

“Come on,” Bucky gently pulled your wrist, and you continued onwards. 

“What was that?” You asked, twisting around to try and see it. 

“Just some bug,” Bucky said. “We can look at more after the doctors make sure you’re not hurt.”

“Okay,” you said, glancing over your shoulder one last time. Steve parted ways with you at a tent with a large red cross on it. You and Bucky went inside, where there were rows of beds. He set you down on one, and talked to a woman wearing a blue blouse with a white apron and a long white skirt. Again, on her chest and hat, was the red cross.

She stood in front of you and introduced herself as Nurse Boyd.

“I’m just going to make sure you’re alright,” she said. She washed your face, listened to your heart, and did a general check up. 

“You seem to be all good,” she said, writing down measurements and such on a clipboard. She turned to Bucky and said, “I am a little concerned about their lack of medical records. Is there any chance they could be passed along to us?”

“No,” Bucky shook his head, “Everything we found in that base has to be screened before we can send it to you – if we can release it at all.”

“That’s a shame,” Nurse Boyd said, shaking her head. “To be on the safe side, we should administer the vaccines for typhoid, yellow fever, and tetanus.”

Bucky nodded in agreement.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Nurse Boyd said. “Do you have any clue what they were trying to do there?”

“Last I heard, it was called Project Prophecy, but that’s about all we know.” 

“You’d better get those files to me the moment they are cleared,” Nurse Boyd’s voice was ice cold, and Bucky quickly agreed.

Despite a World War actively raging, you were having the best time of your life in the Howling Commano’s Camp. You’d given many people nicknames, mainly Dada for Bucky and Papa for Steve.

They’d heavily altered some uniforms to fit you. It looked like you were just a very, very small soldier. Even just having you around boosted morale.  Once you got comfortable with the sheer amount of people, you were confident strutting around camp on your own.

Your constant amazement and pure joy at the most basic of things was infectious, like when you’d first seen a grasshopper. Since then, you could always be found in the small grassy patches, looking very closely at small things. 

There was always someone watching you, or at least there was supposed to be.  More than once, you had slipped out from Nurse Boyd’s watchful gaze, or snuck past a distracted Stark to scale a tree. You never quite thought about how to get back down. It always turned out alright in the end, since Bucky or Steve would climb up after you. 

Since you knew they’d come get you, it wasn’t scary. The first three times. The fourth time you shimmied up a tree, something bad happened. Your eyes grew unfocused. They couldn’t tell up from down, which can be rather dangerous when high in a tree. 

Your fingers clawed the tree bark. You knew what came next, but normally you’d get a bit more warning. Your limbs started to shake violently.

Strange images flashed before your eyes. A woman with red hair getting shot. Papa and a masked man fighting. The man shooting then lunging at Papa with a knife. His arm shined, like it was made of metal. A red star painted on the shoulder. Papa kicked him into a car, but he just got right back up and kept fighting, then chucked him across the pavement. He brought his metal fist down, slamming it into the concrete just as Papa moved his head.

They moved too quickly to keep track of. It was overwhelming. Eventually, Papa managed to flip the man and toss him. His mask fell off. 

Dada?

Then, blank nothingness for a split second. Peaceful, blank, nothing. All too soon, your eyes opened, to see Bucky and Nurse Boyd standing over you. The canvas walls and rows of beds told you you were in the medical tent. 

You felt dizzy, your head hurt so much, and your arm, too. But most of all, you were scared. Dada and Papa weren’t supposed to fight each other, and they weren’t supposed to let you fall.

You sat up, despite the dizziness, and reached a hand out towards Bucky. 

“Dada?” You asked.

“I’m here,” he said, taking your hand and crouching down next to you. 

“Where’s Papa?” 

“He’s on his way,” Bucky reassured you. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and you crawled over next to him. He hugged you. You could tell he was scared. 

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s over now. It won’t happen again for a little while.”

“This has happened before?” Nurse Boyd asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Mhm,” you nodded, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, already over the whole thing and starting to explore the world again.

“Y/n,” Nurse Boyd prompted, “I need you to tell me about the other times this has happened.”

“The world goes fuzzy,” you began, a small frown scrunching your face. “Then I see things and shake a lot. But it's fine after a little bit. I'm okay now!”

As if to prove this, you stood up on the bed and did a little jump. Bouncing on the mattress, even though it was fairly soft and springy, made your arm hut. 

“Ooh,” you said, looking at it. “That hurt a little.”

“Let me see,” Nurse Boyd held her hand out, and examined your little arm. It bent a little too far the wrong way.

“You'll be alright,” she said, “just need a cast.” 

As she said that, you spotted your Papa enter the tent, eyes wide and face serious. Nurse Boyd noticed him, and after flagging down another nurse to cast your arm, she went over to talk to him.

Bucky stayed on the bed next to you, and held your other hand while this new, unfamiliar – and therefore untrustworthy – nurse tended to your arm. 

He kept you distracted, which helped, although you were still scared.

“I don't give a damn about procedure!” Nurse Boyd yelled from her and Steve’s secretive huddle in the corner. The whole tent went quiet as she continued. “This child just had a seizure for God's sake, I need their medical records.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Steve replied, notably quieter, but not calmer. “I think this incident will be enough to convince them.”

“This “incident” might have been avoided if I had been given the necessary information any basic physician requires.”

“I know,” Steve's voice was stern. “If I had it my way you'd have gotten them the day we brought Y/n back.”

“Good to know we're on the same page.”

A few days went by before Nurse Boyd finally got her hands on your records, and had time to study them. In those days, she kept a very close eye on you. She eased her watchfulness once she started listening to your heart and giving you medicine. With help from Stark, she was able to find the right balance of medications to help with the seizures. These meds made it so you'd only fall asleep and twitch a little, instead of violent shaking. 

The one thing they couldn’t fix, which just seemed to steadily keep getting worse, was your heart. It went from a minor source of worry, which Nurse Boyd was passively keeping an eye on, to a clear danger that heavily interfered with day-to-day life. 

Stress grew, soon and all the Commandos were on edge. One surprise, one scare, one tantrum, and your heart could give out. Being five years old was all the more dangerous, since anything could upset you. 

After yet another close call, Nurse Boyd suggested an… unorthodox idea to your Dada and Papa. They seemed reluctant, but agreed it was the best course of action. They didn’t tell you what the plan was.

The night it was put into motion, y'all were eating dinner and everyone seemed sad, despite a recent victory. They tried to hide it. You knew there was something more going on, but they were very good at distracting you.

“Ooh, I'm full,” Bucky said, pushing his plate away.

“Me too,” Steve replied. “I don't think I could eat another bite.”

“But we have all this dessert left! Whatever shall we do?”

You smiled and raised your hand high in the air. They pretended not to see you.

“I guess we'll just have to throw it out,” Dumdum sighed.

“I don't see any other option…” Bucky shook his head with mock sadness.

“I have an idea!” You declared. “Give it to me!”

The adults looked at each other in amazement.

“Why didn't I think of that?” Bucky said as Dumdum comedically slapped his own forehead. They slid over the little bits of deliciousness, and you gobbled away. They still looked sad… but how could you be expected to fix that with all these sweets to eat?

Then, after an hour or so where everyone seemed solemn and were way kinder than normal, Bucky and Steve took you on a trip. They had a truck, like the one you’d been in the day Bucky had found you. 

The rest of the Howling Commandos, plus Nurse Boyd, Agent Carter, and Mr. Stark gathered to send you three off. They all had similar smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. There were lots of hugs, and goodbyes. Why they were doing all this, you didn’t know.

As Steve drove away, you looked out the back. The little group seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging, once you were in the truck. They didn’t see your little eye peeking out through the curtains as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

You drove all night, wherever you were going was far from the frontlines. Most of the trip, you just slept. Finally, the sun pulled up over the horizon, just as you came to a stop outside an already bustling building. It looked too small for all the people and crates going in and out. 

“This is a Strategic Scientific Reserve base,” Bucky explained. “It’s where a lot of big ideas come from.”

“These are the people who tell us what to do,” Steve added. 

“Woah,” you said. “So they’ve gotta be really strong!” 

“Um, they’re more smart than strong,” Bucky said. “They’re some of the smartest people around.”

The two men sat there, looking at the building.

“Why are we here?” You finally asked.

“You know how your heart isn’t so strong anymore?” Steve started.

“Yeah.”

“The people here think they can help,” Bucky said. “Nurse Boyd and Mr. Stark have been working with them to come up with a solution.” 

“Then let’s go!” You jumped up, beaming.

They had no choice but to oblige. 

It was very exciting to get to see so many new faces and interesting things – still a little scary though, so you kept Bucky close.

He didn't resist, or try to get you to hold Steve's hand instead. Even before you got into the building, you got distracted by a line of ants marching in perfect order. An SSR agent nearly stepped on them, which caused quite a hubbub. 

Bucky didn’t hurry you along to go up the steps and in the door. He didn't pull you down along the hall when you inevitably got distracted again. He just let you walk at your own pace through the hallways, accepting whatever little distractions or treasures you found joy in. 

Neither Steve nor Bucky were talking much. They’d respond when you said something, most times, and they’d nod along while you talked. They kept exchanging little glances. You didn't understand why, but you'd find out soon enough.

The three of you reached a large set of double doors, marked with some warning labels. This part of the base was deep underground, so no sun or outside sounds got in, which was already enough to upset you. 

Bucky had picked you up. Upon opening the door, it became clear why. The room was filled with machinery, a large blue cylinder teeming with wires and metal, and a dozen doctors. 

Their white coats filled your vision. Every one of them had the same distorted evil smile and the same empty eyes. Their pockets were teeming with chemical-tasting mixtures and sharp metal things, knives and needles, ready to poke and prod and experiment and zap and hurt and hurt and hurt. 

You realized you'd been scratching and thrashing only when Bucky handed you to Steve. Now you were back in the hallway outside. Steve was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around you partly to calm you down, and partly to keep your hands away from his face.

You whipped your head around to see where Bucky was, and calmed down once you saw he was nearby, wiping off a scratch on his cheek. He hadn’t been as quick as Steve.

“We've gotta remember to cut your nails,” he said, glancing over to you.

“I hurt you?” You asked, shocked. “I’m sorry…” Your lower lip wobbled, eyes filling with tears.

“It’s okay,” Steve reassured you, loosening his arms. 

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “I’m fine. It’s just a little scratch.”

“Lemme see?” 

He scooted over next to you, and you reached out a little hand to touch his cheek. 

“I think he’ll pull through,” Steve said, eyes lingering on his old friend’s cheek.

“I think so, too,” Bucky agreed.

The three of you stayed there, on the floor, leaning on the wall for a moment before the door swung open again. 

A young, frazzled doctor looked down the hallway, and only saw you three as he was turning to go back inside.

“Oh, hello! Is everything alright?” He asked, noting y’all were on the floor.

His white lab coat set you off screaming again. Bucky swatted him away, motioning for him to go back into the other room. He looked confused, but complied.

“You got Y/n?” He asked Steve.

“Mhm, go take care of it.”

Bucky stood up, promised to be back in one second, and went into the room full of horrible labcoat-wearing people.

“Noo!” You reached out after him. Steve didn’t let you follow. You wriggled around and forced Steve to look you dead in the eyes by holding his face still. “They’ll hurt him.” 

“Bucky and I beat the evil scientists that used to hurt you,” he reminded you as he pushed your hand off his face. “He’ll be fine.”

You listened for the sounds of your dad beating them up. Instead, you heard him talking to – no, scolding – the doctors.

“... in an underground bunker surrounded by nothing but metal and Nazis in labcoats, so of course they're fucking terrified of them! And…”

This went on for a few more minutes, you and Steve still sitting on the floor outside the doors. He looked so sad, just listening to his friend through the metal, and looking forlornly at your little frown.

“Dada’s not supposed to use that word.” 

“Hmm?” Steve said, as though he hadn’t been listening.

“The eff one. He’s not supposed to.”

“Oh, well, adults say things when they’re really sad or angry, even if they're not supposed to.”

“Why is he sad?”

“It’s… it’s because we might not get to see you for a little while, that’s all, and we’re gonna miss you.”

“Where am I going?”

“Somewhere really, really cool.”

“Where they’ll fix my heart?”

“Yeah…” he trailed off.

The doors swung open once more.  

“C’mere,” Bucky said as he reached down to scoop you up from Steve’s lap. He held you up by his face, and looked you in the eyes. “You’re gonna have to be brave for me, okay? Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, determined.

“Good,” he nodded back, casting a glance at Steve to make sure he’d follow. 

With more effort than normal, Steve stood up. It was like he was carrying a heavy weight, like his bones had been turned to lead, or at the very least his heart. 

Bucky, who’d been doing a fairly good job at pretending to be happy today, also moved differently. He walked slower, as though he was dreading his destination. He paused before the double doors, and once more looked to Steve.

“It’s for the best,” Steve placed an arm on his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, as though he was trying to convince himself. “The best.”

They finally pushed the door open, and you hugged tightly to your dad’s neck, burying your face to avoid seeing any of the scary machines. You felt Bucky walking a few paces. 

“Y/n,” he said softly. “It’s time for me to show you something.”

You slowly looked up. You glanced around the room, and found not a single labcoat in sight. Before you towered the blue chamber. Now that you were closer, you could see it had a little seat-like thing, except for standing in. It was perfectly made for you. Unease growing, you remembered the girl’s chair from all those years ago. 

Steve saw your eyes flicking around, and probably heard your heart rate pick up.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You just have to stand there for one minute. I promise we won’t let the doctors hurt you. Imagine this tube is another one of Stark’s new toys.”

“Yes,” you whimpered between small sniffles. “I like machinery. It’s not scary.”

“Brave, remember?” Bucky reminded you, voice wavering just a little bit as he walked even closer to the tube. He slowly lifted you up and into the seat. 

A small team of doctors descended to connect all sorts of little monitoring devices to your arms and head. Despite their labcoatlessness, this still freaked you out, and you jerked your arm away.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said.

Once they finished, a glass plating started to slide down between you and the outside world. 

“Dada!?” You panicked, “Papa?!”

“We’ll see you… soon,” Steve said, his voice breaking and going all husky on that last word.

The door sealed with a hiss. The temperature suddenly dropped, it was like ice rushing through your veins. A small puff of breath fogged the glass before it, too, started to crystalize. Your eyes stayed open just long enough to see Bucky break, start crying quietly into Steve’s shoulder, and Steve to pull him into a hug.

They faded away, and were replaced by images flooding your head. Little visions, thousands stacked on top of one another. Scenes swirling around you. 

It felt like you were only in there for a minute before the door hissed and began sliding upwards. The ice crystals were gone, and the tube wasn’t as cold as it had been a moment ago.

The room had changed. How did the room change? Bucky was gone. Steve was there, but in different clothes. A handful of doctors were hovering around you. One minute ago, there wasn’t a single labcoat in the room. Now, it was full of them.

Instinctually, you lunged away from them. Your body didn’t move right, it was slower than it was supposed to be. The floor tilted, pitching you forward, but you managed to scramble towards Steve. 

He said something – you couldn’t hear, like you were under water – but whatever he’d said didn’t matter. He crouched down to scoop you up, and held you tight. Rubbing your back soothingly, he spoke softly. 

Slowly, slowly the room stopped tilting. Just as slowly, the warmth returned. Finally, your hearing came back. 

“... We’re gonna be fine,” Steve was saying.

“Where’s Dada?” You asked.

“He’s not here right now.”

“Why did he leave?”

“He didn't want to, he'd never leave us if he had a choice…”

“I was only in there for a minute. How could someone make him leave?”

“It’s been a lot longer than a minute.”

You took in that idea as you looked around the room. It had changed quite a bit. The walls were a different color, a calming blue, and they weren't made of metal anymore. It was warmly lit, almost comforting if you could ignore the medical supplies at the ready and the child-sized freezing tube.

The doctors crept closer, as though asking permission to approach.

“So long as you take off the coat,” Steve nodded. In almost unison, the doctors shed their lab coats, and one stepped forward. 

She put a stethoscope against your back, and explained that she was making sure your heart was alright. She put a cuff around your upper arm.

“I'm supposed to tell you that this'll feel like a really tight hug,” she said. “But it doesn't. It just feels like a machine squeezing your arm. It's so that I can see how strong your heart is.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It's definitely not comfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt. Let me know if it does and I'll adjust it.”

She recorded the results, did a few more tests, took a few more measurements, and finally, Steve was allowed to take you home. You assumed you were heading back to camp.

Boy were you wrong.

He carried you outside, through different halls than you remembered, and out into a city. It was much busier than camp, or the main base. Short trucks zipped by, all different colors, and Steve hailed a bright yellow one. He spoke briefly with the driver, and buckled you in. He sat right next to you.

He told you about the city you two were in, Washington DC. He told you about cherry blossoms, museums, and giant statues. He told you about boardwalks and Rock Creek Park. He explained that you were in downtown right now, the place where a lot of people work, which is why the buildings were so tall and everyone was so busy.

He told you about a little two bedroom apartment, and a really good hospital. In a few days, you'd go there and they'd fix your heart. No more worrying about it getting worse, it'd be all fixed.

“After that,” he said. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t go to school. I think you’ll like it.”

“Maybe,” you warily agreed.

Steve wasn’t talking anymore. You kept looking out the window. As the city rushed by out there, only one question came to mind.

“Where’s Dad?”