Chapter 16: Name
July 24, 2014
It was easy to hide in London. Winter didn't know if it was the lack of land area, the population, or simply the location, but something about it seemed to keep Hydra at bay. He didn't understand why this was; the UK wasn't on the black map, and London was one of the places that he and Summer had lived previously. It should have been one of the first places Hydra checked. And yet there were no signs of people trailing them, no sense of a sniper scope on their backs. There was finally a moment of peace.
Well, as peaceful a life as two ex-super-soldiers could lead.
Sparring with each other came as naturally as breathing. They knew each other's strengths, each other's weaknesses. Winter could estimate how she was going to move before the thought even crossed her mind, and she could read his feints like an open book. He was bigger and stronger, but she was agile and used to going into fights where she did not have the advantage. And, more than anything, she knew how to avoid the metal arm.
Even if it was cold outside, it was quickly becoming warm in their little flat as they attacked and dodged and parried. It was not the same kind of fighting that Winter often did when training the soldiers; that was usually brutal and forceful, using strength to overwhelm the opponent. Nor was it the kind of fighting they used for the ballerinas in the Red Room; that was efficient and practiced, each movement patterned in response to a stimulus. This was as much a fight as it was a game of chess, though with less marble pieces and more fists.
Winter shot his hand out, aiming for Summer's throat; she barely dodged it, turning her body just right and using his momentum to throw him to the ground. It was easy to continue the motion, rolling so that he was back on his feet, crouched low in anticipation of her attack. She moved like she was going to knee him in the face, and he put his metal arm up to block the blow. But the hit never came. Instead, Summer leapt into the air, executing barely half a turn above him. His eyes followed her and he stood quickly, realizing too late that he was playing into her strategy. She landed on his back, the weight of her making him shift his stance to stay upright. Her legs were around him, locking down the metal arm that provided him with such an advantage. She had both arms wrapped around his neck, pressing her chest to his back so he could feel every inch of her body against him. Normally, he would simply slam them into a wall, pushing the breath from her lungs and shocking her nervous system. But since they were renting a flat and not in a concrete bunker, he did not have that option. Instead he dropped to the floor, hoping that his weight would be enough to get her to let go without breaking most of her ribs. But Summer was expecting this, moving out of the way just in time so that his back met the wood floor with an echoing thump. She quickly crawled over him, securing his arms under her knees and putting her hand at his throat, holding just tight enough to show that, another day, she could kill him. His chest heaved underneath her, and he could feel the heat from the exercise radiating from her. Their eyes met, and for a second, the world stopped.
They'd fought each other a thousand times, but something about today was different. He slowly pulled his arms, and she allowed them to slip from their prison under her knees. Her hand stayed at his neck, but her grip was soft, her fingers flexing ever so slightly as he sat up and brought their faces close. She didn't move, but her eyes widened and tracked his every minuscule motion.
"What are you doing?" she asked quietly, not moving her hand from his throat. He was suddenly very aware of their closeness, memories of the other day mixing with those of another life.
"I don't know." he replied honestly. He couldn't quite identify what he was feeling in his stomach, but he knew that he'd felt it before, and that it was coming back stronger than it had since before they walked away. The best he could tell, he just wanted to be close to her. Other people made him nervous, but Summer he could trust. She let go of his throat, her hand coming to rest on his chest. He could feel his heart beating against her palm, as if it were trying to tell her something in Morse code. She swallowed as if her mouth had gone dry, her breath short and mingling with his. He hesitantly rested his hand on her leg, feeling how the muscle tensed ever so slightly as he slid it up to her waist, and then to her back. He could easily pull her closer, press her chest flush against his, feel her heart beat against his own. Her fingers curled slightly, grasping his shirt, and he didn't know if she was nervous or thinking about tugging him closer as well.
"I don't know either." she said. She didn't know what he was doing, or what she was doing, or what was happening between them. They'd always been close, fitting together like gears in a well oiled machine, but now their wheels were spinning with all the emotions their bodies were remembering. Someone else had always told them any information they needed to know, and while they were able to improvise and adapt to a situation, it had been too long since they'd been on their own. They were now in uncharted waters.
He leaned forward slightly, unsure if his goal was to rest his forehead against hers or press his lips to hers. Her breath caught, and the moment before he was going to have to commit to a decision she moved, getting off him in a flash and walking towards the door.
"Summer-" he didn't know what he was going to say, he just knew he didn't want her to go. There was a sting so sharp behind his sternum he actually checked to make sure he hadn't been shot.
"It's time for breakfast." she said, pulling a jacket on over her t-shirt and twisting her back-to-blonde hair up so she could tuck it into a baseball cap. In the span of a breath she was out the door, leaving Winter sitting alone on the floor wondering where they would go from here. The commanding officers always put him in charge. Summer had her say, of course, but his decisions were the final ones. It wouldn't be that way with this.
He knew the tortures he'd endured. Those came to him every day and night, whether he wanted them to or not. And he knew some of what they'd done to Summer. But it occurred to him at that moment that he did not know every detail of her captivity. In fact, there was no way to quantify how much information he was missing. Some days it seemed like her memories were coming back faster, and other days it seemed like his were. Either way, the power dynamic needed to shift between them if they were going to survive; they had to fill in the blanks for each other. They could no longer be primary and secondary - they had to be equals, share in the decisions. He was used to being in charge, and she was used to being forced into submission. She clearly did not want that anymore.
His emotions made him want to act physically. But he would have to let her take the lead there. He let out an annoyed breath through his nose; it would be tough, to relinquish control. But he could do it, for her. He'd done much worse and much better things for her. With that thought, he got up and started making coffee, knowing that soon Summer would be back with breakfast.
Summer didn't know why she'd chosen flight over fight, but she did know that it felt easier to breathe out in the open air. She hadn't felt threatened by Winter - quite the opposite, in fact - but she had felt smothered by whatever was building in her torso. A nice walk and a good breakfast would help her muddled mind sort itself out. She meant to go somewhere she hadn't gone before to keep anyone from recognizing her, but she ended up at the same bread shop she'd found a few days prior. She paused at the door, wondering if she should risk it or just turn around and leave. Then, she realized she'd been standing at the door longer than social mores would allow, so she made the decision to just go in.
Turns out, it didn't matter how long she stood at the door, because the girl who manned the counter the last time wasn't there. In fact, it seemed like the bakery was empty. Summer's blood went cold, her senses heightening as she pulled a knife from the holster at her belt. She moved carefully down to the end of the counter, leaning against the wall and glancing past the door frame into the kitchen in the back. There was no movement, but there was a trail of blood leading behind some shelves. For a brief moment, she wondered if this was her fault; was the girl who worked here hurt or killed because Hydra knew she came here? Were the operatives still there? She knew she should abort the mission, or at least call on Winter for back up. But the girl may not have time for that. With a flip of her knife, she moved into the kitchen.
Upon closer inspection, the blood trail was not completely blood. And it didn't lead to a woman with a stab or gunshot wound. It led to a woman in labor.
"Oh my God." the woman said from where she was on the floor, leaning against the big industrial dishwasher. "I'm so - I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't-"
"Don't apologize. Are you okay?" Summer asked, putting her knife away and kneeling down next to the woman. She reached for Summer's hand, squeezing tightly as a contraction went through her. The woman had a surprisingly strong grip, probably due to baking bread every day. The blue fabric of her dress was already stained dark from her water breaking, and she squeezed her legs together as if she were physically trying to hold the baby in.
"I've been better." she said with a gasp once the contraction let go. The small hairs around her face were sticking to her skin; thanks to the ovens and the labor, she was already starting to sweat. "You're a nurse, right? That's what you told me the other day?"
"Yes." Summer answered, figuring that was an easier response than the truth, and better than reminding her that she said she used to be a nurse.
"Can you just...I mean, can you tell me if I'm okay? I haven't - I tried to call an ambulance, but every time I try to move-" she reached towards a corded phone on the wall, but when her weight shifted she cried out in pain, another contraction grabbing her and making her squeeze Summer's hand with the same ferocity as before.
"You'll want to be in a good position. This is going to feel uncomfortable." Summer told her, getting up and going to wash her hands at the big sink full of dirty mixing bowls, leaving the tap on to get the water as hot as it could go. The woman groaned, shifting in an attempt to get herself more comfortable. Summer used the back of her hands to lift her skirt, and her pinkie fingers to remove the woman's underwear. "I'm going to check your cervix."
"You should buy a girl dinner first." she joked, making Summer tilt her head to the side in confusion. It was early in the morning, and eating was inadvisable at the current moment. At her expression, the girl sighed. "Sorry, nevermind. What's your name?"
Lucille. My name is Lucille. Lu. Doc. "Summer." she said, not knowing what else to say.
"Summer? Ah-" she flinched as Summer gently used her fingers to check her, relaxing a moment later once she realized what was happening. "I'm Miranda. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise." Summer said, removing her hand. "Miranda, do you have a bunch of clean towels somewhere?"
"Um, back - back over on that cart. They're supposed to be for the bread - why do we need towels?" she asked, suddenly looking very scared. Summer didn't know what to say to comfort her, so she went to what she did know - how to prepare for a live birth.
"Your contractions are very close together. Your baby is coming very quickly." she said, going to grab the towels. She stopped at the stove, turning the burner on high and pulling her knife from its home again, running the blade through the flames to sterilize it. The faucet was now spitting out steaming water, and she found two big, clean bowls to fill.
"No, no this baby can't come here, it's - there's flour everywhere, and germs-" Miranda was beginning to panic. Now Summer had to address her fears.
"Her immune system will be very strong thanks to her connection to you via the umbilical cord. We will deliver her safely, then we will call for an ambulance to take you to the hospital." Summer explained. That was reassuring, right?
"My wife, she wanted to be here, I have to call her-" once again Miranda was interrupted by a contraction, crying out in pain. Her whole body was shaking. "We had a whole plan, it was going to be a home birth before we went to the hospital-"
"Well now it's going to be here." Summer said, bringing the bowls to the floor and starting to lay out the towels. This baby was coming much faster than her mother realized. "Can you call her?"
"My phone-" she gestured towards the counter. Summer nodded, using her elbows to slide it off the counter and hand it to the woman.
"Make the conversation quick." she said. Miranda nodded, holding her stomach with one hand and dialing with the other. She let Summer position her legs and put towels all around her, a look of relief coming over her face when a woman on the other side picked up the call. "Baby, it's me, I need you to come to the bakery." Summer could hear as the other person asked if Miranda was okay, if there was something wrong with the baby, but Miranda quickly interrupted. "I'm okay, everything's okay, but I need you to come to the bakery. Right now. Also, call an ambulance for me."
"Very efficient." Summer said as she hung up. What Miranda didn't know was that unless the wife could get here in the next ten minutes, she was likely going to miss the birth of the child.
"Thank you." Miranda gasped. Her expression said that she knew things were progressing quickly. "You...you've done this before, yea?"
"Yes." Summer said. She left out the fact that the last time was in 1941. The motions were coming back to her easily anyway, she wasn't worried about doing something dangerous.
"And you, do you...I mean, have you done this before?" she asked, gesturing to her abdomen. Summer paused for a second, remembering flashes of knives and pain.
"No. I can't." she admitted. There was an empty ache low in her belly that she ignored, focusing only on the woman in front of her. Miranda was able to briefly break through her pain to give her a pitying look that Summer didn't appreciate.
"I'm sorry." she said through her labored breathing. Summer shrugged, taking her hips and sitting her just right.
"Probably for the best." she replied, giving the towels one last adjustment. "Are you ready?"
Miranda pressed her knees together. "No, I can't - Claire isn't - I'm not ready -" panic was rising again. She needed to control her blood pressure. Summer hesitated for a second before putting her hand on the other woman's, holding back a flinch when she grabbed it tightly.
"You are ready. And so is this baby." she said. Her voice was gentle and matter-of-fact, giving Miranda no room for argument. Prolonging the labor would only lead to complications. "The next time a contraction comes, you need to push."
"What, like - push push?" she asked, alarmed. Summer nodded, using just a touch of super strength to pry the woman's knees apart. "I - okay. Okay. Yea."
"You can do this." she said. Miranda took a deep breath, then another. Summer could tell when the contraction came, could see the brief hesitation on her face before she gave in to her biological urges. Her face scrunched up and she cried out in pain, gripping her skirt so tight her knuckles were white. "Breathe, Miranda." she reminded her. The baby's head appeared, crowning her way into the world. Summer encouraged her further, for just a little more. Then, the baby's head was out. Miranda took a few gasps of air, already exhausted by what was happening.
"That...was terrible." she said with a whine. One corner of Summer's mouth lifted in a smile as she cradled the baby's head in her hands.
"You're doing great." she said, gently wiping away all the amniotic fluid still clinging to the baby's face. "Next one comes, and you'll be done."
"Really? That quick?" she asked, disbelieving.
"That quick." she replied. Miranda nodded, steeling herself for the next contraction. When it hit, she resumed her pushing, and Summer gently guided the baby as she made her way into the world. When the cold air hit her she started moving, pulling her limbs close into herself and grimacing uncomfortably.
"Why isn't she crying? Isn't she supposed to be crying?" Miranda asked. Summer didn't answer, instead focusing on cutting the umbilical cord and using the towels wetted with warm water to clean her. "Summer?"
"She's fine." she said. "I'm going to clean her and wrap her. You need to prepare for the afterbirth."
"The...the what?" Miranda asked, and Summer sighed. She thought, seventy years later, that education would have prepared women more for this moment.
"You have to deliver the placenta as well." she replied. The baby started cooing, flexing her fingers and moving her lips in search of food.
"Oh, cool. Cool cool cool." she said, clearly not cool with the situation.
"It won't be as bad as before." Summer explained. Miranda nodded, taking a few deep breaths and waiting for the contractions to resume. When they did, she easily pushed the placenta out, and thankfully it was all in one piece. When that was finished, Summer put the swaddled baby in her arms, and artfully removed the soiled towels. She didn't even have to think about it; it's like her hands remembered what her mind could not. Someone slammed through the front door, the sound of heels loudly clacking on the concrete as someone ran towards them. Summer moved away with the linens, going to rinse what she could and give the women their moment.
"Miri? Oh my God, what - who - is that…?" a woman with beautifully dark skin sank to her knees next to Miranda, reverently touching the towel. Miranda smiled, adjusting the baby so that her wife could see her clearer.
"Little Sophie is here, thanks to Summer." she said. Summer's hand's slowed, but she didn't look over her shoulder. A lot was going on in her mind, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take.
"Thank you. For being there for her." Claire said to her. Summer garnered herself and turned, giving what she hoped was a pleasant smile.
"Just the right place at the right time." she said. It had happened to her a thousand times before, on missions; the whole art of being an assassin was making sure she was at the right place at the right time. But this time, she didn't kill anyone.
"Sophie Summer...it has a nice ring to it." Miranda said. Summer could tell that she wasn't completely convinced of it, but was too deep in her gratitude to think clearly. She stiffened at the idea.
"No. Don't name her Summer. It's not a good name." she said, shaking her head. That's what the scientists had named her. And even then, it wasn't for anything she did - they'd just named Winter first, and were too lazy to come up with something else for her. Summer was a killer. This baby was not.
"Well, what do you suggest, then?" Miranda asked. Claire started to say something, but a look from her wife silenced her. Summer felt overwhelmed by this gratitude, and swallowed thickly as her mind whirred.
"I'm sure you two already have a name picked out." she said, giving her knife one last rinse before holstering it again. The sounds of ambulance sirens reached her ears, and she immediately felt the sniper sight between her shoulder blades again. She needed to go. "The paramedics will be here soon. You'll be safe in their care."
"No, wait, Summer-" Miranda called after her as she walked away. Against her better judgement, she stopped. "If you had a baby girl, what would you name her?"
"I can't have children." she reminded her, the response easier than the fact that a name did come to her mind instantaneously, as if she'd never forgotten it. Again, the dull, deep ache.
"And that stopped you from thinking about it?" she asked. The sirens were a couple blocks away; Summer had to leave now if she was going to maintain her cover.
"Grace. I would have named her Grace." she said softly. With that, she left, crossing the street just as the ambulance turned onto it. The clouds present that morning had burned off, leaving a cool, bright morning. The world smelled a little nicer, a little newer.
Winter was up and pacing whenever she returned, his eyes sharpening as she came through the door. "You were gone a long time." he said, something akin to concern in his tone. He spotted the stains on the knees of her jeans and all over her t-shirt, and moved to put his hands on her shoulders so he could check for other injuries. "What happened?" meaning, of course, did you kill someone? Or did someone try to kill you?
"I delivered a baby." she said, not minding now that he was close to her. She felt like a piece of concrete around her heart had broken off, making it easier to breathe and to think. "I saved a life today. Instead of taking one."
He took in a sharp breath. When was the last time either one of them could say that? "How does it feel?" he asked lowly, desperate to be a part of this epiphany even though there was no way for him to be. What was it like, to help instead of hurt?
"Liberating." she said truthfully. She could still feel the weight of the baby in her hands, see the looks of thankfulness on Miranda and Claire's faces. He gripped her shoulders, looking into her eyes, trying to see what she saw and feel what she felt.
"I want that." he whispered. He could tell that this had changed her, even if it was in the slightest of ways. They were free physically, but the emotional stronghold from Hydra still had its claws deep in their heads. She was one step closer to being free from their pasts, one step further along than him.
"Then maybe that's what we do." she said, referring to their overall mission. It wouldn't just be about survival anymore. Maybe, after all the bad they did, they could do something good. Just like…
"Just like we used to." he replied. Back before the train. Back when they were with Captain America. Back, during the first time they'd been in London.
She nodded, her hands going to his waist. They stayed there for a breath, then she slid them around to his back, pulling herself close to him and burying her head in his chest. He didn't know what to do with his arms for a second, but the response came easily. He wrapped his arms around her and, minding the strength of the metal one, embraced her back.
They'd always been close, interlocking gears that were just part of the big machine. But now it was just them, and it turned out the machine still worked just fine.
Aw yay! Summer doing something good! And they hugged! Ah!
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Hope you liked this chapter! Please let me know your thoughts!
-XM
