I've started working on my original fiction again (I neglected it since starting this up again) but as of right now, this story still seems to be taking priority.

"Harry needs to see a doctor." Stark announces without preamble. As soon as he mentions the word 'doctor', James's mind is bombarded with memories.

Strapped down on a table, fire coursing through his veins. A saw approaching him, needle after needle being plunged into his flesh. Screaming until his voice is gone, the conditioning to ensure silence. Sitting still and compliant while the prosthesis sparks-

When he refocuses on the present, Moody and Stark are scrutinizing him, Moody keeping Harry away with one hand.

Harry is swinging his fists at the wizard, shouting, before he glances over at James. "Ma-mario-"

OBEY

"Harry." James grits out as the Soldier comes to the forefront of his brain. Harry snaps his mouth shut before the codeword is finished.

James breathes harshly, fists clenched as he slowly regains himself. His body is trembling slightly, it should not be.

HARRY IS, the voice pauses, NOT THE HANDLER

He's our son. Bucky says.

"H-he was takin' your brain." Harry's voice is a choked whisper, aiming an accusing finger at Moody. "You said'ta use-"

"I did nothing. Your muggle guard lost his wits." Moody growls, both eyes boring into James. "You think you can protect him like that? You need constant vigilance."

"That was one of the-" Stark has a look of horrified realization dawning on his face. "Harry, your dad was remembering something bad. Nobody was taking his brain, but you almost..."

Stark cuts himself off again, and Harry looks toward James for confirmation. James gives a sharp nod.

Protecting Harry was almost easier as the Soldier, without the distraction of the Bucky voice or the memories impairing his concentration.

Thanks a lot, pal, grumbles Bucky. Thought we were in this together.

He knows the memories interfere with his functionality, but Harry had been aghast at the idea of them being wiped. Harry had relinquished his authority as handler, but James will respect Harry's wishes.

Stark has his hands up, his brown eyes boring into James. "I'm not a fan of doctors either. I meant Jarvis, just doing an eye exam for Harry."

Harry looks dubiously at Moody's prosthetic eye. "I don't want that."

"It has its uses." Moody says as the eye rolls back into his head.

"I meant glasses." Stark assures Harry, who is relieved. "Jarvis, pull up an eye chart. Do you even know letters, Oliver?"

"More'n Dudley." says Harry. "Dudley knows D."

"Just D?" Stark asks.

Jarvis tests Harry's vision using a chart with letters arranged into a triangle, decreasing in size as the rows descend. Afterward a similar chart, this time with various pictograms, is presented. Harry squints, only deciphering the largest items at the top of the triangles.

"One of the many perks of living with a genius inventor like me," Stark boasts, "is that you don't have to wait... however long people wait for new glasses. I can make 'em right here."

"I had circles." Harry tells him.

Stark scoffs at the concept of circular glasses as he descends the stairs to his lab.

Harry's small form scampers from the closet to crouch by the nightstand, then slinks under the bed. Harry is more adept at hiding than most children his age would be, but he is still easily detected by James's trained eye.

Moody's prosthetic eye rolls towards the boy's position. It is, evidently, capable of seeing through solid objects and is even more observant than Jarvis with its cameras hidden throughout every room.

James has been carefully watching Moody since his arrival 27.4 hours ago, analyzing possible weaknesses and waiting for an attack. Remaining undetected by that prosthetic eye would be a challenge, and Stark had remarked earlier, as Moody sniffed at his lunch with the remaining part of his nose, that the wizard is "even more paranoid" than James.

Harry creeps from under the bed, still under the impression that he has not been seen, and aims a punch at the back of James's knee. Before his tiny fist can make contact, James whirls around, grabbing his arm. He nods with approval as Harry uses the strategies James had taught to twist free.

"Okay, this needs to stop." Stark says, leaning in the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest.

"Laddie needs to defend himself." Moody growls. "Too many people after him."

That's one thing we agree on, says Bucky in James's mind. Moody had seemed grudgingly impressed witnessing their training, but had also suggested training magical defenses.

"I thought that was your job." Stark cuts in. Moody gives an affirmative grunt.

"So why all this training?" Tony goes on. "Sure, kids can take martial arts classes and play hide-and-seek, but you're starting to take this to extreme levels and that's not okay."

Moody opens his mouth, but Stark continues speaking. "Seriously, he's got three guards. If they get through all of us, he's toast no matter how much you train him."

UNACCEPTABLE

Before James can speak, Stark continues.

"Let him be a kid!" Stark exclaims, throwing his hands up. "He's four, and he's already had a crappy childhood. He should be playing, watching TV, breaking his toys. Not being pushed to be some sort of child soldier."

"Superhero." Harry corrects. It is good that he is applying the term to himself.

Stark pinches his nose. "Okay, I know you're wearing a Robin suit- which is starting to smell by the way, seriously, you two should change- but you're not really Robin. Not even Batman recruits four-year-olds to fight for him."

Harry smiles victoriously. "You didn't say Batman's not real!"

"Just because I didn't say it this time, Oliver, doesn't mean he's suddenly real." Stark sighs. "Look, he was skittish enough when you arrived, and now you're encouraging it more? Most four-year-olds are screaming for candy in the store."

"Dudley scweamed for sweets." Harry says.

"You should not." James says. How can Stark suggest that? James is glad Harry had not screamed during either of their Tesco thefts. They have to keep a low profile.

Harry's tone becomes wistful as he says "He kicked Aun' Tuna."

James struggles with forcing down the memories of murdering the Dursleys. As recalcitrant as Dudley had been, he did not deserve the death he'd been given by James's hands.

"Try again," Moody tells Harry. "You should've been trained from the start, not with those damn muggles."

"Did you hear anything I just said?" Stark demands before focusing on James. "You know, Pepper won't be thrilled to know you're teaching Harry to hit people, or be some sort of spy kid. That's right, Terminator, I can tattle right back. And believe me, you won't like her wrath."

Potts is not his handler, but she has an authority that demands respect. Her displeasure is to be avoided, even if she likely will not inflict pain as punishment.

Moody appears unimpressed by Stark's threat. "Training is important."

"Not spy training. Seriously, do you want him to be like Romanoff?" Stark demands. Romanoff is competent, and can easily defend herself against any assailant except James.

While training Harry, James has had flashes of training Steve- small, skinny Steve- how to defend himself from bullies in allies, coupled with flashes of the Red Room.

That ain't the way for a kid to grow up, Bucky had when James had a flash of the Red Room. This training is different. Hadn't Bucky shown Steve how to defend himself from bullies?

The punk never wanted the help.

"Anyway, I came up to tell you your glasses are finished." Stark says. "Seriously, change your clothes. You can have a whole new, awesome, Harry look."

Once they arrive at Stark's lab- no longer dressed as Batman and Robin, though James is still wearing black- Stark holds out a small pair of rectangular glasses. Despite his mockery of circular frames, James notices a pair of them resting on the workbench near Stark.

Harry slips the glasses onto his face and surveys the room with his mouth hanging open.

"Everything clearer?" Stark asks with a satisfied grin.

"I see circle ones!" Harry jabs his finger at the circular frames sitting on the workbench 2.9 meters away from him.

Stark rolls his eyes, which Harry says is 'looking at da ceiling' and hands him the circular frames.

"Dum-E, get the ball."

One of the robots approaches with its claw gripping a ball, and Stark explains to James "You're his dad. Play catch. It's one of those things dads always do on TV."

James complies. Harry obviously loves tossing the ball around, and is surprisingly skilled at snatching it out of midair.

Sign him up for the Dodgers, Bucky sounds fond in James's head, and James has the inexplicable urge to ruffle Harry's hair. He does so with his flesh hand. Harry's hair had never been neat anyway.

"James said you'd make a seeker one day." Moody tells Harry. Harry turns to James, face splitting into a prideful grin, and Moody amends "Your dad."

"He is my dad." Harry speaks slowly, as if Moody is dense.

James cannot recall watching a baseball game, but Bucky does (with Steve, of course, sneaking in when they couldn't afford the tickets). James shows Harry how to pitch the ball, which Dum-E clumsily attempts to bat with its arm.

Stark, meanwhile, is working on about four different project simultaneously. He flicks through holographic SHIELD documents, tinkers with a holographic projection of his Iron Man armor, and converses with Jarvis about the location of Captain America.

James's head is practically filled with Bucky's chant of Steve. Bucky sounds simultaneously hopeful of Steve's survival, and horrified at the thought of HYDRA getting ahold of him. James honestly cannot recall Steve being one of the other Winter Soldiers, but his memory is full of voids. If HYDRA had claimed Steve, they could have kept him and James in separate bases and James would never have known.

"I got him out!" Harry cheers, and it takes James a moment to realize Harry is not talking about Steve, but rather that Dum-E had swung and missed three times.

"Good job." James ruffles Harry's hair again, feeling the weight of Moody's judgement on him at his lack of concentration.

After 17 missed swings by Dum-E (Five outs, two strikes, supplies the Bucky voice), Jarvis announces a message from an unknown number, and Romanoff's voice filters through the speakers.

"Hey Tony. I had a blast bowling the other night," Romanoff sounds almost unrecognizable with a cheerful tone and California accent. It is an effective cover for anyone who might be listening in. "I can't believe I missed that strike! I've been practicing, and I got one last night."

Moody's prosthetic eye darts in every direction. Stark, despite his documented genius intellect, only now seems to be piecing together the caller's identity. Had he thought she was a lady he'd been sweet on?

Has Romanoff incapacitated or eliminated a STRIKE member. She does not say if it was Rumlow or Rollins, but it is likely other STRIKE agents still remain. The destruction of the entire STRIKE team would be one fewer threat on a long list of threats, but it would be a start.

"The secretary had nasty old pairs of bowling shoes, I wanted to chuck them, but I couldn't yet."

No other new intel is revealed as Romanoff wraps up the call, as far as James can decipher. He has to give Romanoff credit- the call sounded entirely innocent, unlikely to be suspected by an outsider.

She had been trained by the best.

Watching Harry pretend to drive one of Stark's many cars floods James's brain with images of shooting the tires of Howard Stark's car, sending Romanoff's car off the cliff near Odessa.

The next image is not a memory, it is quite possibly worse. James sees his prosthesis aiming a sniper rifle at Harry's forehead, where the lightning bolt scar is hidden behind his bangs, as the boy makes engine sounds with his mouth. His flesh finger rests over the trigger, a voice is screaming in his head not to pull it, and-

Harry is on the floor by the car, stunned, a hand coming up to cup the bloody knee he had acquired from his fall. James checks his hands. The flesh hand is shaking slightly, but the prosthesis does not waver. No sniper rifle is in them, or anywhere in the vicinity. Still, he is rooted to the spot at the image, at what could have happened.

Bucky is urging James to go forward, to comfort Harry and tend to his injuries. Instead, James's fists are clench tight enough that they'd shatter Harry's wrists if he took hold of them.

Moody approaches the boy, aiming his weaponized stick at the gash in Harry's knee.

Pick on someone your own size, Bucky snarls in Jame's head.

STOP HIM.

James lurches forward. He should have known Moody was an enemy, should have eliminated him on his arrival.

James feels as if he's moving at only 50% his usual speed. Moody aims the weaponized stick at him, and suddenly his velocity has been reduced to 25%. He cannot stop Moody from aiming the weaponized stick at Harry.

FASTER

Harry starts to reach for the weaponized stick, attempting to use the disarming method that James taught him. James wonders why he is not magically disarming the wizard as he had Romanoff.

Moody brushes the boy's hand aside, waves the weaponized stick.

The cut disappears almost instantaneously. Harry gives a shocked gasp, hand poking the spot where the gash had been and his voice laced with wonderment. "It's gone..."

Moody does not turn away from Harry, but James suspects the prosthetic eye is staring through the back of the wizard's head at James. "You still going to attack me?"

He hadn't attacked Harry, he had healed him, far faster than even James's own body heals from injuries. He'd taken away the pained expression on Harry's face that had sent a blade piercing through James's heart.

James very slowly shakes his head, and suddenly the spell is released. James rushes to Harry, examining him for other injuries.

"He fixed me." Harry looks awed. "He fixed me even better'n you."

The words pierce James, emphasizing how useless he was. He hadn't stopped Harry from falling, hadn't tended to his injuries, too consumed by his own mind to give his son the attention he needed. James can almost feel Moody's judgement, as if James had chosen to neglect his duty as Harry's father.

"Was that magic?" Tony breaks the silence excitedly. Moody confirms with a nod.

"Good magic." Harry murmurs, continuing to examine his knee with a thoughtful expression. He speaks louder and more decisively. "Thank you, Mr. Moody. You're a good wizard."

James backs off, the vision of almost murdering Harry still fresh in his mind. Harry had revealed most of the codeword to Stark and Moody, they could likely piece together the rest and-

"Daddy?" Harry scrambles to his feet, approaching James. "Are you okay?" He sounds simultaneously younger and older than his four years.

James gives a jerky nod. After 3.6 seconds of observing him, Harry asks "Can we play catch?"

James relaxes slightly at the joy on his son's face, even from the simple act of tossing the ball around. The ball starts to defy the laws of physics, floating in midair and darting away when Harry tries to catch it.

After laughingly chasing the ball, Harry looks at Moody in amazement, only for the wizard reveals that it is Harry who is causing the levitation.

Harry manages to smack the ball toward James, who accidentally flattens it when he smacks it back. The destroyed rubber falls to the floor, and Harry's face falls with disappointment.

Moody fixes the ball as easily as he'd fixed Harry's knee.

"So," Stark asks Moody over dinner. "Do wizards have any nifty ways of tracking down, say, someone possibly trapped in suspended animation in the middle of the arctic?"

Steve. Bucky's voice is almost louder than the mission has ever been.

"Owls are excellent trackers." Moody growls. "No way to track them unless you fly behind them, and they try to shake you."

"I've got flying covered." Stark gives a cocky grin before asking "Wait, you magic people use owls as carrier pigeons?"

"We use owls as owls."

James frowns. An owl had appeared immediately before Dumbledore and the enemy asset captured them. James does not want to risk that happening again. "Owls cannot be trusted."

THEY WILL FIND HARRY.

"Most are well-trained. Some nip you."

Harry considers this. "There's good owls and bad owls... like magic. Are owls magic?"

"They are." Moody answers.

Stark looks excited "So if I were to say, stick a GPS on an owl and tell it to find Captain America, it would?"

Stark sighs at Moody's uncomprehending expression, and launches into a technical description. Moody seems to be doubting Stark's sanity. "Muggles let themselves be tracked?"

"You guys don't use email? Or phones?" Stark fires back, then glances at Harry. "Or would you fry them?"

Harry giggles as if he is doubting Stark's sanity as well. He glances at the stove. "I never f'yed a phone!"

"What about that eye of yours?" Stark nods to Moody's prosthetic eye. "Can you see all the way to the arctic from here?"

At Moody's expression, Stark mutters "I'll take that as a no. All right, well, what if we send out an owl, and I follow it?"

James thinks this idea is terrible, not to mention impractical. He does not entirely trust Moody's intel that owls cannot be traced. "Owls do not hunt underwater."

Stark concedes the point. "Or Stalker-Eye here can go and do his creepy looking-through-solid-objects thing."

"I'm here to protect Potter, not search for missing soldiers." Moody eyes James, clearly thinking that leaving Harry alone with James would not constitute adequate protection. He is not wrong.

"I'm Iron Man, I don't need an owl." Stark acts as if the previous conversation had not occurred. "I can't wait to hold this above Coulson and Fury."

We should go, Bucky sounds almost frantic.

THE MISSION IS TO PROTECT HARRY.

He's got a better guard. Bucky sounds bitter in James's mind. Steve has to be alive. We should have searched earlier, we should have-

James frowns. Bucky had been the one who suggested the words til the end of the line.

There is no concrete proof Steve is alive, it is merely a theory Stark had from hearing of James's experiences.

James does not think he has said anything, but Harry reaches toward him. "Daddy, don't go!"

James looks at his hands. They have killed, many times, they have killed children. He doesn't deserve to be Harry's father. Steve would be a better guard, a better dad.

He feels Harry's tiny hand grip his sleeve, and it feels simultaneously right and wrong.

I had a few other scenes written but I wanted to work on them a bit more... but now they might be a bit out of sorts with this last scene.