UNKNOWN GUEST

#11 Roles Reversed

James' POV-

Uncle Clint and I stepped into the room where my dad, Captain America, lay asleep. The room was eerily quiet, filled with the hum of the medical equipment that monitored his vitals. Clint nodded to the agent stationed at the entrance, signaling her to give us some privacy. The agent acknowledged with a brief nod and silently exited the room, leaving us alone.

Clint gently closed the door behind us, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the figure lying in the bed. There he was—my dad—wearing a simple white shirt and loose khaki trousers. He looked peaceful, almost as if he didn't have a care in the world. But I knew better. I knew that when he woke up, that peace would be shattered. The weight of the world would be placed back on his shoulders, and he would never truly find rest again.

Standing there, looking at him, a wave of regret washed over me, hitting me harder than I ever expected. Memories of my past actions, things I had buried deep down, resurfaced with a vengeance. Yes, they were always absent on my special occasions—birthdays, holidays, school events. But when they finally returned, exhausted yet with a smile on their faces, bringing me gifts to make up for their absence, what did I do? I avoided them. I refused to talk to them. I would throw tantrums, locking myself in my room, not even bothering to look at them clearly.

Now, as I stand here with him, seeing him in this vulnerable state, all I can feel is regret. They would come home after weeks of grueling missions, and instead of welcoming them with open arms, I pushed them away. They would apologize, saying they were sorry for missing yet another important event in my life, but instead of accepting their apology, I acted out. I refused to forgive them, refused to understand that they were doing what they had to do—not just for the world, but for me too.

I wish, more than anything, that I could go back and change things. I wish I could have cherished the moments I had with them, rather than letting my anger and disappointment cloud everything. I wish I could have said, "It's okay, and thank you," when they apologized. I wish I could have sat down with them for a peaceful dinner, just talking and enjoying each other's company, instead of being a stubborn, resentful kid.

Looking back now, I realize that sometimes I thought they didn't deserve me. I was wrong. The truth is, I didn't deserve them. They gave everything they had—for the world, for others, and for me. And what did I give in return? Nothing but bitterness and cold shoulders.

As I stood there, lost in my thoughts, I felt a soft tap on my back. Startled, I looked to my left and found Uncle Clint standing beside me, a gentle smile on his face. "You okay, kid?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. My throat felt tight suddenly, the weight of everything I had been holding back pressing down on me. All I could manage was a small nod in response. He chuckled lightly, his laughter a warm, familiar sound that cut through the heavy silence of the room.

"You seem like a father longing for his son," Clint said, his eyes twinkling with that easy humor he always carried. His words hit me harder than he probably realized.

 He was right, of course. In a way, I felt exactly like that—like a parent yearning to protect and guide a child who had been lost to them. When Dad wakes up, he'll be that lost child, disoriented and out of place in a world that's moved on without him. The thought struck me deeply. This was my chance—my opportunity to make up for all the lost time.

I could see it now, clear as day. When Dad opens his eyes, he'll be stepping into a world that's completely foreign to him. He'll be like a child again, trying to find his footing, trying to understand everything that's changed. And I'll be there, right beside him. I could help him navigate this strange, modern world. I could teach him everything he needs to know, help him catch up on all the time he's lost. I could raise him, in a sense—give him the support he gave me in another lifetime.

A small smile crept across my face as I looked down at him, lying there peacefully as if he didn't have a care in the world. "He seems younger," I said softly, almost to myself. "In the future, his hair at the back of his ears turns gray. And he never wanted to dye it." There was a touch of fondness in my voice as I remembered those little details, the ones that made him who he was.

Uncle Clint chuckled again beside me, a sound that brought some lightness to the room. I took a small step closer to the bed, closing the distance between us. I reached out and gently placed my hand on my dad's arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. "Wake up soon, Dad," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'll take care of you."

Clint laughed softly, shaking his head as he watched me. "Oh boy," he muttered, his tone a mix of amusement and something else—maybe pride, maybe understanding.

After a few hours, I glanced down at my watch. It was time for Uncle Clint and Mom to leave for their mission in Italy. A sigh escaped me, a mix of anticipation and longing swirling inside. I wished I could meet them again, just once more, before they disappeared off the grid for a few weeks. The thought of them being gone, unreachable, made my chest tighten.

Just then, an alert flashed on my computer screen, drawing my attention. I quickly scanned the message and realized the quinjet that Uncle Clint and Mom were traveling on had run out of first aid supplies. My heart skipped a beat. This was my chance, maybe the last one, to see them before they took off. Without a second thought, I sprang out of my chair and bolted for the storage area on the ground floor.

When I got there, another agent was just stepping out of the elevator, carrying a box. I quickly asked her about it, and she confirmed it was meant for jet136, which was prepping for takeoff. Without wasting a second, I took the box from her, murmured a quick thanks, and sprinted toward the takeoff zone, my feet barely touching the ground as I pushed myself to reach them in time.

I arrived, breathless, just as they were about to board. Uncle Clint narrowed his eyes at me, a mix of curiosity and mild surprise on his face. "Why did you bring it?" he asked, eyeing the box in my hands.

I handed it over to him, trying to catch my breath. "Everyone was occupied, so..." I trailed off, hoping my excuse would be enough.

Mom raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze cutting right through me. "And you're slacking off?" she asked, her tone laced with mild suspicion.

I quickly shook my head. "No, absolutely not. I got the alert and brought it in record time." I was trying to sound casual, but the pride in my voice was unmistakable.

She tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing me. "You sound proud," she remarked, almost as if she was challenging me.

I quickly hid my smile and cleared my throat, trying to remain composed. "Thank you, ma'am," I said, the word "Mom" lingering unspoken on my tongue. It sounded so familiar, yet so distant.

Her eyebrow arched again, a perfect mirror of her curiosity. "Mr. Hawkeye said you approved my appointment in logistics, so...thank you so much for everything, ma'am." I emphasized the "ma'am" again, cuz 'ma'am' was the closet term to 'mom', which came to me naturally. I just wished she wouldn't mind it or ask me to address her as 'Agent Romanoff.'

She just rolled her eyes, that classic Romanoff move. "Cause any trouble, and I will approve to kick your ass," she retorted, the corners of her mouth twitching in a way that almost hinted at a smile.

Uncle Clint chuckled beside her, clearly amused by the exchange, before they turned and walked toward the jet. As they did, I called out, "Be safe out there, you guys." I couldn't help it; the words just slipped out, carrying more emotion than I'd intended.

Mom paused for a split second, turning her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she was trying to figure me out. But then, just as quickly, she looked away and continued walking, her focus shifting back to the mission ahead.

I watched as they climbed aboard, the hatch of the jet closing with a finality that made my heart sink a little. A minute later, the jet was soaring high into the sky, disappearing into the clouds.