The Product

Something caught unexpectedly in his throat, a wild emotion he couldn't put a name to. The boy was asleep - unconscious - dosed carefully to keep him from rousing for even a moment in the bag. 

So small in her arms, so quiet, so still.

He was thinking of other children, still children in beds. He had killed them quickly, not wishing to cause them pain. Seven dead children in seven tiny beds, an eighth left alive because those were his orders. 

A message sent. 

He had not remained long enough to hear the wails of the parents, the hysterical crying. He had not remained long enough to see if the message had been received. 

Marina lifted her head as he entered, eyes catching his. 

It was a heavy pause, something storming behind hers, caught in a memory. 

He hoped it wasn't as dark as his own. 

"All of this." She said, voice soft. 

He stepped closer, hand half raised - should he touch her shoulder? Comfort her? Tell her everything would be alright?

His hand landed on the sleeping head on the boy instead, fingers tangling briefly in the messy strands. "They won't stop."

"They never have." 

They won't stop, and he can't either. He can feel the pulse beneath his hand, feel the warmth of a living child. A child. his...child? 

Seven little coffins, seven little bodies.

To the hundreds of deaths, thousands, on his hands. Parents cradling little bodies against their chests. 

He pulls away, pain working its way past whatever else had found its way into him. "I won't let anything happen to them, Marina." 

"You'll do your best, Soldier." She murmured. "I know how good your best is." 

He breathed out. 

He could promise her the hearts of her enemies. 

But he couldn't promise her the lives of her children, and they both knew that. "James." He says, finally. "James is fine, call me James."

She eyes him, curling her lips. "James. We should go."

Yes, they should. Every minute they delay.

He can't promise anyone he can keep them alive.

But he's damn well going to try.