Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Winfred "Winnie" Barnes was a tough lady, not a rough and tumble kind but one who by force of will and pure stubbornness raised four kids during the Great Depression but this was out of her wheelhouse. This meaning her son was alive but half dead by the lost look in his eyes when she crept down the stairs and noted his gaze in the dark at half past four a.m. as he guarded the entrance hall of the house, seemly motionless but for his eyes.

For a split second Winnie felt fear at the look in her son's eyes but she didn't show it but fearlessly went on to the kitchen.

So Winnie did what she did best when she was at a loss. She cooked. On autopilot she started the biggest breakfast she could at five a.m. while her mind went to how she helped her husband cope after his war experience.

Winnie was startled awake by a shout and a crash of a book hitting the floor. She heard her husband snuffing his sobs hoping not to wake anyone, especially baby James who was still getting use to having another person around besides his mom.

So knowing only George was out there battling whatever was in his mind, Winnie got up, put on her bathrobe and made strong tea (it would have been coffee but it was still before one am.) George looked up, eyes red and hands shaking wondering what the click of china was by his side.

He gazed at his wife who held out a cup, a similar one by her side as they leaned against the wall were he was hiding behind the couch, a blanket his only comfort.

"If you need to talk, I'm here, but if you just want to be silent, I'm here too. I'm not going anywhere. We are bound by life George Barnes and bound we'll stay." Then she leaned back and drank her tea as George whispered of the darkness he saw and did to keep himself alive to come back to her. Other times they sat in silence, tea or coffee getting cold by the hour. Bit by bit George came back to her, the one she fell in love with, the one she bound herself too. The smile that lit his face when she informed him that she was expecting again was the hard won victory of those dark days and nights.

But for her son, Winnie didn't know what to do. She wished George was here, but he didn't want to go to Nebraska for Thanksgiving. She wish she could tell him that their son was alive but those people were still out there. Winnie would die before those bastards got their hands on her son again.

The Asset smelled the food cooking and his mind was in pain because of it. There was something or someone, he watched the woman cook with the ease of a seasoned chef, her knife work almost as good as his own but it was used differently than what he used his skills for.

'Mom was always a good cook. One of the best.' The thought, not of his own will broke free of the screaming, chained man that in the depths of his mind knew who the woman was and thought accordingly. She was a part of his…his thoughts scattered by the pain of the word he wanted to think to even say. Home. She was a part of his home.

The smell of strong coffee broke though the ache in his head. The asset, no he's called Jimmy blinked at the mug that was becoming cold by his side.

"Drink up son, there's more once you're done." The asset didn't know but he knew it was an order, framed by something he didn't know but somehow trusted. The word he was searching for was love.

But he still didn't touch it or the other cup that was swapped out for a new one once the coffee got cold. It was nearing dawn on November 18th, 1948, a Thursday a few minutes after 7 am when the others stumbled down the stairs.

The Asset, no Jimmy had strict orders not to harm anyone in the house and that's why he let the woman from earlier pass by even if he could tell The Asset, no Jimmy made her nervous.

The woman who told him to call her Winnie, had just left a fresh cup of coffee with pancakes, bacon and eggs by the Asset, no Jimmy when his target spotted the cup. Stark lit up and in a flash before the Asset, no Jimmy could do anything drank it down and was tackling the plate of breakfast food as he moved towards the kitchen.

The man beside him paled at the implications of what the target unconsciously did. When the Asset did get around to getting up from the watch on the floor, he been sitting stiffly for over half the night, it was all over. The plate was almost licked clean and the target wandered off into the kitchen to get more.

If the target died on his watch, the Asset would be atrociously punished. Hoping it was a slow poison, he knew of one that worked months, he'll have to stay and guard the target against any other things that might happen.

Why didn't he move? Why did he let the target unthinkingly kill himself with whatever the woman, Winnie had put in the food, drink or the dishware? The chained man inside screamed the answer, because he trusted his mother but the Asset didn't know that consciously but something inside of him listened to the chained man even if the chained man didn't exist.

Author's Note:

I would love to know your thoughts on this story. Predictions, encouraging words, etc. Comments are like life. LOL