Captain America Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Steve Rogers Fan Fic - The Constant

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Steven Rogers AKA Captain America

We have said Steve was a happy child and most of the time that was true. That is how others saw him. Steve cannot lie but he can pretend. His mother had no idea of how worried he was about her. He would look at her as if through adult eyes and see that she looked tired, careworn. He knew she was hiding from him how much she worried about him, about finding the money for the next week's meals, about living. Although she worked as many hours as she could she always tried to find time to spend with him, time to read with him, help him with homework and try and fill in some blanks of his education. As a nurse she knew how important healthy food was and she included as many vegetables, fruit and fish as she could in his diet. Even when it meant missing out on things for herself.

When he was ten he was old enough to be able to stay home on his own; although, truth be known, there were times from the age of seven that Sarah had no choice but to leave him for short periods. He wanted to try and help so he went out and approached a local newspaper vendor and asked about a newspaper round. The proprietor looked at him and laughed. "You couldn't lift one newspaper, yet alone twenty!"

Steve had picked up a pile of newspapers and held them up as high as he could: "I could do this all day," he tried to boast, but his body let him down and the man had to be quick to save him from breaking both of his wrists.

He had gone home and wept. No one knew. Steven Rogers suffered from an illness that he had let no one see including his mother, for it was a condition some doctors didn't even acknowledge back then: depression. Steve Rogers knew his mother loved him, but he felt alone. He had no one but her, and the loneliness would eat at him day and night. There were times when he felt there was nothing to live for and he would curse himself, tell himself to stop being so stupid, so self-centred, so selfish. But the feeling did not go away.

"I have to accept this," he would tell himself, "I'm not the type to have friends. Who needs them anyway?"

School was a particularly daunting place for him. He was bright, but tired easily. The other children could be cruel and he found he was often getting into fights. He would try and hide the cuts and bruises from his mother but she still saw them.

"Steven Grant Rogers, what am I going to do with you?!" she would exclaim. But it was something she understood; when life knocks you down you get back up and hit it right back.

And then something happened in Steven's life when he was thirteen that his mother always thanked god for. It had been a school day, one that he had been able to attend. She was busy getting ready for her shift when he came home and she had seen the blood on his shirt and the cut lip. She'd fussed, made him change, asked what the fight was about. She got few answers, but then Steve asked her something he never had before:

"Can I bring a friend home for dinner tomorrow?"

Her smile was so genuine, so pleased for him, that he felt himself actually blush.

"And does this friend have a name?" she asked.

Steve had cleared his throat. "Ah, um, Bucky....Bucky Barnes." It wasn't a name she recognised. Misreading his mother's reaction he thought she was going to refuse and hurried to fill in the silence. "He goes to my school, his name's actually James but they call him Bucky...I'm not sure why though...we can share a plate of food. I'm sure he won't mind."

And there was such hope in Steve's eyes that she found herself tearing up and ducked her head, picked up a jumper and started folding it. "Yes, of course you can bring him home. It won't be anything exciting to eat but..."and then she looked at him and smiled. She wanted to ask so much more but she knew over time she would find out; she did not want him to see how unusual it was for him to have a friend. She didn't realise that he already knew.