Romanogers Stories

Present, Past, and Future

persephonelove Here's your request!

Sorry for the delay in updates. As an apology, there will be three others posted after this one today.

Hope you enjoy!

It had been ten years to the day that his mother died. His father never told him how she died, only repeated that it was his fault she'd met her end. How if he'd been faster, she would still be here to take care of him and teach him what she knew.

He didn't understand when he was younger, but with each passing year, he saw how heavily her death weighed on him. How his shoulders curved in inch by inch.

He was a shell of what he used to be, though he did his best to hide it.

But he wasn't fooling anyone.

He'd left the team in the hands of Tony Stark, which, if anyone knew him, was something a bit out of sorts, considering they never really agreed on anything. But the Avengers had been doing well under his leadership, so he was doing something right.

His father rarely picked up his shield. Only if there was no way it could be avoided, but it was never the same.

James was sixteen now, and he barely remembered his mother, but he knew she loved him with every fibre of her being. And he loved her the same. He remembered how brave she was, but even that was failing now.

And he couldn't allow that to happen.

His father had already broken under the weight of her death. He could not do the same. Her name had to mean something to him. To his father. To the world.

He wasn't sure how he would accomplish his task, but he knew it needed to be done.

"James."

He looked up to see Clint heading his direction.

"Hey, Uncle Clint," he smiles, completing their secret handshake they'd come up with years ago.

Silly as it was, it felt normal.

"What do you say to coming down to the training hall? See how much you've improved?"

"I'll come down, only to beat your ass."

"Hey, language, my young one. Can't have your father hearing those words coming out of your mouth, you know," he winks knowingly.

He looks over his uncle, much like he suspected his mother would, knowing full well who she was and the weight she carried around S.H.I.E.L.D. He had been the closest to her until his father entered the picture. While he looked unaffected by her death, he could see the subtle signs he kept hidden except to those closest to him.

He was hurting, just like his father, but kept busy to avoid the pain and loss he felt. So, he'd oblige him, even if it did mean kicking his ass. At least it would give him something to do instead of wonder how his mother died.

"Let me grab something from the room and I'll meet you down there?"

"I'll see you kid. Don't take too long or else someone will take your place."

"Uh huh," he challenges playfully, "who else would want to take an old man down?"

"You're gonna get your ass handed to you, kid," Clint laughs. "Now go on before the day is over."

He loved his Uncle Clint, perhaps more than the others. He knew the most about his mother and anytime his father wouldn't talk about her, all he had to do was ask him, and he would provide any answer he wished. He was practically his second father anyway.