Black Heron unzipped the bag and fished out a white blanket and laid it flat on the grass. She then placed on the blanket a clean and previously sterilized baby bottle, a pre-prepared small packet of formula, and a thermos filled with previously boiled but now cooled down water.
April's fussy cries filled the usually quiet forest area. She was curled in Bradford's dark, tightly suited arms as he gently rocked her with his armored body. His forearms were bare of the large cuffs, in fear of his spikes injuring April in any way.
The two adults sat across from each other on some old logs, the water boat not far from them, with Pepper eagerly guarding the small ship. The small crew had been cruising on the river smoothly for about an hour in silence, going from the desert landscape into a more forestry setting before April started crying. Bradford knew he wouldn't be able to care for April's needs on a moving, loud vehicle, with no lower level or quiet spot to settle into. With everything that had happened, he didn't have the chance yet to dress April into something warmer and more comfortable, or to change her diaper. As well, he needed a place to recollect and calm down his thoughts.
Bradford had ordered Pepper to slow down and to hide the boat under the cover of some greenery, then he and an unusually silent Heron set up temporary camp within the woods. Better that than being hapless, sitting ducks on a boat.
Heron passed along to the tall vulture a fresh blanket, clean baby pajamas, and a new pair of diapers. Bradford set aside the soot covered FOWL blanket and laid the sobbing baby down on the newly flattened blanket. He retracted his claws, and tried his best to change an uncooperative April as carefully as possible.
Bradford wanted to keep the Sword on him and stay in his armored state in case 22 or other SHUSH agents wanted to show their faces, or the unlikely chance they were attacked by a wild beast. Still, it didn't make changing a diaper easier. Eventually though, he caught onto his usual rhythm, and a now clean but increasingly loud April was curled in his arms and chest, her shaking body bound in a fresh, larger blanket as Bradford patiently patted the hungry infant's back.
As he waited, Bradford purposely kept his steely gaze on April, his focus on her only and trying not to think too hard about what had occurred not too long ago. Usually, even with occasional orders Heron would have some sort of quip to bite back with. But now, she had barely even said a word, and Bradford scornfully enjoyed it. But it was an empty enjoyment after so much loss. He couldn't even stand to look at her now. Not after what she did. Meanwhile, Heron could only keep her head to the ground, mindlessly twiddling with the bottle and formula, her face knotted into a concerned yet sad look that held back words she couldn't say.
His anger at her had somewhat died down after the exhaustion of rescuing April. All he could feel towards her now was numbness and disbelief. He'll deal with her later, when he regained the emotional strength to do so. For now, he'll have to deal with working with her until they get home and out of this mess.
"Heron," Bradford said, his tone cold. "The milk."
Heron blinked again out of her thoughts. "Oh, right right…" she muttered. She quickly mixed the formula with the water, shook the bottle, then squirted some drops on her bare, non-metal wrist. She passed the bottle to him. "It's good."
Bradford took the bottle without a word, shifted April in his left arm to an upright position, and brought the bottle closer to her bill. She immediately quieted as she nursed, her eyes on him as Bradford brought her higher up his chest, lightly kissed her on the head, and sighed contently. The curved edge of his long beak softly nuzzled her small cheeks, as he liked to do during her feeding time. Even against his terrifying visage, he took up a gentle and loving look as he carefully watched his own movements around her so as to not hurt her in any capacity by accident. The calmness and repetitive motion of April's suckling soothed him.
The light of the sun cast deep shadows on the large forest trees, the large leaves covering the sun from shining into the clearing, and instead overcasting darkness over them both. Hazy, orange beams flickered through and reflected off Bradford's dark metal, and the mid-afternoon songs of the non-sentient birds started to whine down whilst the sounds of rustling, crunchy leaves echoed off the trees.
Peaceful…the word came to him. Finally, some peace and quiet away from the world…
But as he stared into April's eyes, the image of her crying and scared form came back to him all too easily. She had clung to him, longed for him, yearned for safety. She had even known it was truly him even through his monstrous appearance. She had never once feared him, but only looked to him to save her. The very thought of it made his heart swell. And yet…all he could do was stand there like the lost boy he was, stranded and unmoving in his futile memories, reminded of his fading control over everything around him.
He had almost failed in his promise. He'd almost allowed the both of them to die, and for what? His useless fears? His weak will to control them? His pain? His uselessness?
His eyes narrowed in frustration. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he get over these ancient feelings? Why couldn't he be rid of them? He had never expected these old nightmares, nightmares that would visit him like old and heavy blankets at night, ones he had learned to expect to come like old friends, to only return so suddenly in the moments he least wanted them. Even when he had tried to block them at those crucial moments, they came back stronger and more intruding than ever.
Perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised at that. The scars were always fresh in his mind. They were never allowed to heal. Should he be surprised the scars that were constantly touched also easily bled? He could only wish he would stop prodding them.
The Sword had left him with more power than he had ever felt in his life. And yet when he needed it most, it could do nothing to affect his mind- to sharpen it, to focus it, to will it to his need and act on what he truly needed to do.
True, it had enhanced his overall fighting prowess. But did it also enhance his feelings? Did the suit not only strengthen him physically, but emotionally to a higher degree? Did the armor drive these feelings…or did it feed off them? Did The Sword enhance the feelings that solely drove him, or did it enhance his feelings associated with his true inner strength?
What was it? What was his hidden strength? What did The Sword see in him that he couldn't?
The strength of the armor could not help him when he needed it most. It was only when he willed it, when he felt those feelings of protection and care wash over him for April, felt his need to overcome the situation, was when The Sword fed him the strength he craved.
But it only came after he saw in himself the strength he needed to overcome the situation. The strength had not come from within the Sword, but from within him.
But what was that strength? How could he tap into it again at will without being forced to do so in a stressful situation? How could he avoid this from happening again, from having to sit in his own fear as death surrounded the child he loved more than anything?
The child…the child he had created for one purpose, the child of a man he hated more than anything…the child he had loved more than any manner his grandmother had once "loved" him. She had once been his "family", but she had felt far from that for him. April wasn't his biologically, and yet he felt closer to her than any true family he had before he lost his parents. Once, he had thought family could only be through blood, even ones you could never love. Now…he wasn't sure what to think.
His grandmother had shown him once how the world truly worked, but the fear and terror he felt was something he would never wish upon anyone. How could he avoid the events that happened to him from repeating themselves once again through April? Why were they repeating themselves?
Why couldn't he allow himself to escape from this searing pain once and for all?
April fidgeted in his arm, leaned her head away from the bottle, and brought her hands out from her warm blanket to touch his wet, shaking beak. She cooed in curiosity.
Bradford blinked his eyes, and he realized he had been crying. His tears were running down his face and long nose, landing on April's feathers. His breath was shallow, heavy and shakey. He felt a shooting and spreading ache inside his chest, a feeling he knew all too well, and he looked upon himself and April in helpless horror, for allowing himself to show weakness like this.
But April could only coo and look at him blankly, her touch gentle, and her eyes so nonjudgmental. So young, so innocent, so precious…he almost lost her today.
He dropped the bottle on the ground, brought April as close to him as possible, buried his face into her blanket, and allowed the tears to run freely now, heavy sobs coursing throughout his large body. All caution and control gone from him.
Black Heron watched him silently from across the way.