Chapter 1
1:
1941, Brooklyn, New York
He should have never picked up that hammer. He should have known it was trouble waiting to be courted. It was not as if Steve was a stranger in courting trouble. In fact, they were best friends long before he tried to court her. However, a relationship that began from best friends to lovers does not always equate a good relationship.
The day he picked up the hammer was a normal day, to say at least. It was the last days of autumn and the leaves were already golden and falling to the earth, with chilling hints of the nearing winter coming by. Steve shivered, pulling the cream jacket against his frail body as he traipsed through the streets of Brooklyn. Just a couple more blocks, and he was already going to be there. But before he could even be at one block before the cinema, he was caught by a group of other boys in the neighborhood, hitting an old man. He was already on the ground, his clothing in tatters and his body in a far worse situation. There were other people passing by, but they were too busy to care.
Seeing this injustice, he could not stop himself from shouting, "Hey! Stop it!"
It caught their attention, alright. But because of the distraction, the old man had the chance to run. Steve also did, but he rooted himself in place as the boys went nearer to him. He did not know why; maybe because of fear that now he is frozen in place or he is just a fool to think that he could face them all.
Insults were hurled at first, calling him names that were already familiar to him: weakling, fag, lim-wristed and all the others attributed to his slight figure. Saying how dare he to call them when he can not even protect himself from them.
So he fought back, or tried to, but always fights back. Even if he is outnumbered and outgunned. There is no question in his soul. Even if he was already on the ground, bleeding, kicked, bruised and heavily injured, he can't run. He wouldn't run. Not because he believes running is a weakness, but not giving them the satisfaction that he ran due to lack of courage. Steve refuses to be humiliated that way. He may have been injured on the outside, but inside he knew he could survive this. This was nothing. Steve was just thankful the old man got away in time.
Too bad he can't get away this time.
"Too bad for you, sissy boy!" the boys jeered and walked away proudly, as if what they have done was an accomplishment.
It was always like this. As the boys finished beating him up, Steve could not even move his legs. He knew his face was a lost cause, his extremities felt swollen and blood was waterfall from his nose. As he tried to stand up, using the brick wall as a leverage, he knew that he could not let Bucky see him like this. Going to the cinema was not an option now. At least, he saved himself from the humiliation of entering it looking fresh from a fight he clearly lost.
*.*.*
Steve knew it was a futile attempt to hide what happened to him. But of all the things that could happen, it was Bucky himself who was waiting inside of their apartment. When the older man saw his situation he immediately put himself to work. Hauling Steve over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, he set him down on the couch. Cursing the whole time while looking for their first aid kit, Steve noticed he was wearing his nice clothes. He was just about to ask why when Bucky started to talk.
"Steven Grant Rogers," Bucky began, clearly dipleased at the situation, dabbing disinfectant at Steve's wounds. "What the hell were you doing out there? You-"
Steve flinched. When Bucky uses his full name, he knew he was in deep trouble. "I wanted to go to the cinema."
"Cinema?" Bucky snapped. "Why?"
Before Steve could open his mouth to answer, Bucky already knew. "To see the war picture. Again."
The younger man evaded his eyes. "I'm already twenty-one years of age Bucky. I wanted to see our fellowmen's efforts in war. I want-"
"To join the military," Bucky completed his sentence. "Even after forty-five rejections, few punches pulled and a ton of insults thrown at you, you still want to join the one organization all the others want to escape. Why Steven? Do you really want to die?"
"I want to serve this country, Buck," was Steve's simple answer. "Just like what Father did."
Bucky stared at him for a while, then shook his head. "And you want to follow him to the grave."
"No, I don't Bucky," Steve gritted his teeth. Why is it he always tries to dissuade him from joining? Steven mught be physically weak, but he knew in his heart he can do it. He's willing to try.
Steve stood up from the threadbare couch.
"Steve, where are you going? I'm not done-" Bucky protested, but Steve interrupted him again.
"James Buchanan Barnes, I just want to rest." Bucky was not the only one who can use a full name. "Thanks."
*.*.*
Bucky never understood Steve's fascination with the military. Until now.
When they were still children, Steve always goes out of his way to help others. Being late for class by feeding stray animals, giving coin to beggars on the street, even trying to break out fights and scufflles. When his parents died and he was adopted by the Barneses, he never ceased being a great kid. Even though he always goes home with black eye or some hellacious bruise almost everyday after school, Bucky knew deep down he was a good person. He had a physical disadvantage, yes, along with all the other illnesses that made him shorter and thinner than a man of his age, but he had a fire in him. A fire no one was able to put out.
The war came, and his Father had to serve the country. Bucky promised him he would take care of both his mother and Steve while he was gone. Not a year after that, they received a black outlined letter with their father's dog tag. After a few days, their mother died of a heart failure.
Bucky never felt so lost. At the age of 18, he lost both of his parents like Steve did. The inheritance both of their parents left were only enough to last them a few years so both of them had to work, no matter how odd the jobs were. He got the chance to be a waiter at a nearby diner in their neighborhood, but Steve didn't have much luck. His asthma alone was already a hindrance in finding a decent occupation, add up his scarlet fever and another array of diseases, he was not even fit to deliver newspapers.
Two years later, they were still struggling, with the world so it seems. The war between the nations was still waging on, and America needs more troops. Steven gave him an idea after proclaiming he wants to join the war. Of course, Bucky was against the idea of Steven joining the war. But he didn't say anything about himself.
He promised himself that he would take care of the younger man. He would keep Steve safe, no matter what happens. Even if he knew Steve would hate him if he knew Bucky got conscripted yesterday. Bucky may not be able to protect him from the Brooklyn bullies anymore, but he can shield him from the horrors of the war.
He knew he had to tell Steve. Soon.
*.*.*
"Steve, I need to talk to you."
Steve's hands trembled on his cup of coffee as he heard the ominous words. Those words do not bring a positive air. "Buck, if this is about what happened yesterday, I-" Steve started to ramble, but Bucky laid a hand on his shoulder.
"No, no it isn't," Bucky said, his tone calming, soothing. "I need to tell you something."
Steve let out a little sigh as took a bite of a stale muffin. "What is it about?"
"I got conscripted last Tuesday."
The younger man choked on the muffin. "What?!"
"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell-"
Steve shook his head as he interrupted the other man's apologies and smiled widely . "No, no need to apologize. In fact, I must congratulate you big brother. Now someone can help me with my applications!"
The blond man was so busy being happy he didn't notice Bucky's face growing more serious and somber. "Steve, I would not help you."
With those words, Steve's smile withered. He looked pointedly at his brother. "What? Why?"
The older man fell silent, despondent, avoiding Steve's eyes. The reason dawned on him. "You think I'm not strong enough. That I cannot survive the military life because of my sicknesses."
"Look Steve I..." Bucky was trying to placate the situation. "I just want to protect you."
But I don't need protection, Steve wanted to scream. I can protect myself! However, he stayed silent. A show of respect to the man who took care of him for so long. The man he loved. As a brother of course. What else could it be?
"I need some air," Steve whispered, hastily got out of his chair and ran. Before Bucky could even protest, he was already outside of their apartment.
Walking down the stairs was already taxing to Steve's weak body, let alone running while still having injuries. He limped to the outside, but Bucky's admission hurts more than any injury he ever faced. The only person he thought could lift him up, to support him and help him to achieve his dreams, did not want to.
But no, he was not going to cry. Not in the middle of the street. He might look like a child, but was already twenty-one years of age. He was already past the age of maturity, and he will not let his respect for himself diminish. All he wanted now was a little bit of comfort. Maybe a nice cup of hot chocolate. Which he can get from a nice cafe just across the street. Maybe it can lift him up a little.
Steve was already in the middle of the street when when he felt a shift in his surroundings. The smell of car exhaust and city bustle was replaced with the scent akin to the rain after it was finished crying itself to the earth. Like pure natural air, with the hint of humidity and moisture. When he looked up to the sky, the normal blue skyline of Brooklyn was filled with clouds converging into a hurricane of black and green.
All the other people were screaming, running as fast as possible away from the threat. Cars abandoned, businesses forgotten, commotion ensues. But Steven stood transfixed. Like the storm was beckoning him, tempting him, pulling him. And he cannot resist.
"Steven! We need to go now!"
It was Bucky, but he could barely hear him because of the screeching winds. Closer and closer it comes. Steve was surprised he was not swept away yet, because all the other objects were already responding to the call of the winds, lifting them slowly to its center above.
Steve was mesmerised. His blue eyes were filled with wonder as the sky changed again, bit by bit, until it was all back to normal again. Cars, leaves and all other collection of things were plummeting from the sky, back to the earth. He thought the phenomenon was already finished, when another thing came crashing down fast. Like a meteor from the heavens, pulled down by the earth.
It was steadily approaching his position, but Steve was unfazed. No matter how threatening it might be, Steve waited.
The object landed on his feet with a loud crash, and a wall of dust exploded around the man.
"STEVEN!"
As the smoke cleared, a hole was formed around the pavement. It destroyed everything within a diameter as big as the base of the Statue of Liberty. Only one spot was left untouched, elevated from the bottom part of the crater with a flimsy tower of ground. It held Steven, and what looked like a hammer, trapped on the ground head first.
Steve never saw something so beautiful in his life. Not even the Aston-Martin he was eyeing days ago could not compare to the majesty of the object right in front him. He knelt down and observed the hammer. There were strange and unfamiliar markings on the silver head. The handle was ridged like a screw, and there was a leather strap attached to the end. It was bigger than the ordinary hammer, and looked mighty heavy. Steve was not even sure if Bucky can lift it, let alone his puny self.
But he could not afford not to touch.
"Steven! Don't-"
Steve gripped the handle. He felt electrified, like a thousand volts of energy was pulsing in his veins. It was exhilirating and frightening at the same time. He knew he may fail in lifting the hammer, but he needed to try. His gut was telling him he needed to try, just to prove to Bucky that he was strong. That he can do this.
Alarms were blaring at the distance, but Steve paid them no heed. He focused on the hammer, and lifted it up with both hands.
He thought it might be an outrageous feat, but the hammer was released from its confines, without almost any effort. Steve gasped in delight, that yes for the first time in his life, he can actually lift something...
Until the hammer lifted him to sky.
"BUCKY!!!"
His cries of elation was hastily replaced with screams of fear, as he ascended up and up and up...