as a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

Steve Rogers never had any delusions that he would live a long life. Born at the end of the Great War and raised during the Depression with poor health, it was a miracle that he ever lived past eighteen. His survival was a great testament to his mother’s tenacity and her struggles as a single mother. And once she was gone, Bucky took on the mantle of keeping him alive, bailing him out of every single well-intention losing fight, giving Steve a portion of his paycheck when Steve needed some medicine, and kept his melancholy at bay after Ma’s death. Bucky and his Ma was responsible with keeping him alive  all through his childhood and part of his adolescence. And Steve loved them for it, they were the only family he had ever known and probably the only ones he would ever have. There would always be a part of his heart reserved in affection and reverence for them, for his family.

But there was a larger part of his heart reserved only for one person. The person who gave him a purpose in life, the person who gave him a reason to live. A reason that eclipsed his need to serve his country, to be a good citizen and to be useful to society. This person who filled all the blank spaces Steve didn’t know he had just by existing and being by Steve’s side. A person, who, for a lack of a better word, was the other half of Steve’s being.

In Symposium, Plato wrote how humans used to be a being with two heads, four arms and four legs. Fearful of what humans wrought, the Gods split them apart, leaving humans with only one head, two arms, two legs and an emptiness born from being separated from the other half of their being, the other half of their souls. Ever since that day, humans were doomed to wander through life incomplete, continuously seeking that missing piece of themselves, not knowing whether they would ever truly be complete.

Steve met the other half of his soul on a cold night in March under the bright fluorescent lights of the World Expo, lost her under the dim lights of the SSR’s wrecked headquarters two years later.

He met her again on a warm May night, in Stuttgart, seventy years later.

This was the story of how Steve loved, lost, and loved again.

--------

New York City, April 1942

Another day, another rejection from the Army. Steve heaved a sigh as he walked out dejectedly from the latest recruiting station he tried his luck in. Another 4F for the tally, this would make it his fifth rejection from the Army. When they said that the Army would take just about anyone for the war, they forgot to mention a big caveat that one must be in sound physical health to even be considered eligible to join.

Steve and his long list of illnesses would not be on the top of the list of eligible men to serve. They would probably point him in the other direction of the recruiting station, if they could. The latest recruitment sergeant even went so far as telling him he was saving his life. Why was it so hard just to enlist? All Steve ever wanted was to serve, there were men laying down their lives right at this very moment, in Europe and in the Pacific theaters, and here Steve was, somewhat able bodied and more than willing to answer the call of duty to serve his country. Yet for all his willingness to serve, what good would it be if nobody wanted to take him up on it?

Deciding to go watch a film to cheer himself up, Steve entered the theater with the express intention of forgetting today’s disappointment and kill some time until he had to meet up with Bucky later. Bucky had said earlier that he had some big news he wanted to share with Steve. Deep down, Steve knew what Bucky was about to share with him. His best friend had successfully enlisted in the Army, much to Steve’s consternation. He was equal parts proud and jealous of Bucky’s achievements. Proud because Bucky was following in his father’s legacy, and jealous because Steve wouldn’t be able to do the same, to carry on his own father’s legacy to serve and to fight alongside his brother.

Steve thought that what Bucky would tell him tonight would be that he had received his orders and that he would be leaving soon. Which would make everything even more perfect in the worst of ways. Steve would be left alone now after Bucky’s departure, truly and completely alone for the first time in his short life. Left alone to work on his posters for the WPA or collect scrap metal for the war effort like some pre-pubescent teen with nothing else to offer.  

His thoughts were interrupted by a jerk who was heckling the picture much to the discomfort of everybody else in attendance. And of course Steve, with his big mouth, couldn’t stop himself from reprimanding said jerk, especially after the lady that sat near him seemed to be surreptitiously wiping her tears away, clearly affected by what they were showing.

“Hey, you wanna shut up?”

When the guy stood up and stared him down, Steve knew he was in for another back alley beating. Ain’t no better way to end a day other than a back alley beating after all.

The man’s initial punch knocked Steve off his face and into the trash can located in the alley behind the movie theater. Steve scrambled for something to hold on to, something that would give him an edge in the fight, and decided to grab the lid and held it aloft like a shield.

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” the man sneered.

“I can do this all day.”

The man grabbed the trash can lid from him and tossed it to the side before punching Steve square in the face. Steve fell down again. In the periphery he saw the man prepare to kick him while he was down, and before Steve could attempt to shield his rib cage from the kick, another harsh sound emanated from above him.

Bucky, resplendent in his brown uniform, was standing over Steve’s opponent who was slumped down on the ground. The man stood up again, his fist swinging at Bucky’s direction now, but Bucky caught it then twisted the man’s arm around so much so that he now faced the opposite direction from where his arm was pointing at. He groaned in pain until Bucky let go of him, giving him a kick for good measure.

“Why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?”

As the man hobbled out of the alley, Bucky turned back to Steve, panting and still splayed out on the ground. “Sometimes I think you liked getting punched.”

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve said petulantly, wiping the faint blood smear on the side of his lips.

“Sure looks like you did.” Bucky relented. On the ground he spotted the most recent enlistment rejection from the Army. Steve’s bullheadedness was legendary. It was probably for the right reasons, but Steve never seemed to develop any sense of self-preservation even as he matured and became an adult.

“How many times is this?” Bucky bent down to pick up the paper. “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

“You got your orders?” Steve chose to ignore Bucky’s comments and looked at Bucky from head to toe. His friend was wearing the neatly pressed brown uniform of the Army complete with the beret tilted at a jaunty angle on his head. Bucky looked every inch the soldier that the Army wanted and needed.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow..”

Steve nodded. The 107th. Bucky’s dad was also in the 107th during the Great War. Seeing him like this reinforced just how much Steve would never be able to realize his own goals and dreams. “I should be going.”

“Come on, man. My last night! Gotta get you cleaned up.” Bucky put his arms around Steve’s shoulder, walking him out of the alley.

“What? Why? Where are we going?” Steve asked.

“The future.” Bucky said cryptically, handing him an ad he tore off from a newspaper about the World Expo at Coney Island.

--------

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Bucky said to him as they walked from the train station to the Expo ground, “you’re about to be the last eligible man in New York. You know, there’s three and a half million women here.”

“Well, I’d settle for just one.” Steve said dejectedly. His luck with the ladies, or the gents for that matter, was none to say the least. So much for luck o’ the Irish.

“Good thing I took care of that.” Bucky grinned at him, then he raised his hand in a wave. Up in the distance, two women were standing by the balustrade leading to the crowded Expo area and one of them waved back at Bucky.

“Hey, Bucky!” she yelled. Steve’s eyes widened in alarm and dread. Inwardly he groaned at the prospect of another “double date” that would end with both women ignoring him and vying for Bucky’s attention all night long.

“What did you tell her about me?”

“Only the good stuff.”

Great, Steve sighed deeply. Here goes nothing.

There was music and an abundance of lights. The whole atmosphere was designed to showcase the inventions that surrounded the fair goers. For awhile it was easy to forget that there was a war raging on the other side of the Atlantic. Bucky and his dates started to weave their way among the throngs of people standing at the Stark Industries booth, eagerly awaiting the show that was advertised to start in ten minutes.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!”

Howard Stark, debonair industrialist, appeared on the stage and shamelessly kissed one of the stage girls before launching into a spiel about how automobiles would one day cease to touch the ground. He turned on the car, which to his credit, levitated above the ground for several seconds before the engine short circuited and the car fell back on the ground.

“Holy cow.” Steve heard Bucky’s whispered amazement. Steve himself was in awe. He was always fascinated by science and math and how it would always find a way to improve the world around him. Steve has always owed his life to science since the medicine that kept him alive wouldn’t have existed without the advent of scientific enlightenment. It’s also probably why he was always attracted to smart people. He didn’t spend his art school days loitering around Columbia just because they had better coffee.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Stark addressed the audience, laughing deprecatingly.

“I keep telling him that if only he reduces the reverberations on the flight stabilizer, he’d be able to maintain the car in flight longer.” A beautiful, lilting voice chimed in from the space next to Steve. And when he turned around to look at the person whose voice it belonged to, he came face to face with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. She was standing next to him, clothed in a brown leather jacket and black pants, hair tied up in a high ponytail. She wore a necklace made of brown leather, an amber pendant rested low between the valley of her breasts. Her eyes were bright and brown, her cheekbones were sharp and high and soft lips completed the her whole figure.

Steve’s fingers had never itched so badly for a paper and charcoal than they did right at this moment.

“Pardon?” was the only thing that came out of his mouth after probably making the beautiful dame uncomfortable with his staring. But she just smiled indulgently and directed his attention back to the car on the stage.

“The flight stabilizer on the car. He didn’t take into account the additional weight of the car and how much more energy the stabilizer would need to expend to held the car aloft. And since there’s only a finite source of energy in the first place, all of that energy that could be used to fly are now redirected to make sure the car would be stable when floating. The end result was what you and everybody here just saw.”

“Oh, wow. That’s amazing. You know a lot about machines!” Smart and beautiful. Steve never had a chance.

“Not bad for a woman, huh?” she shrugged, her smile mischievous.

“Not bad for anyone at all. How is it that you know so much then?” Steve asked again, eager to keep conversing with this woman.

“I like to read.” she chuckled, “it’s a good way to spend the time.” Her lips pursed in a smile as if her words held a different hidden meaning.

“I know what you mean. I was sick a lot as a kid, spent a lot of my time laid up in bed. Books were the only way I could keep myself from being stir crazy about being bedridden.”

She laughed again, “It seems you’ve successfully conquered your illness. And what great fortune for me because that means I have a chance of making your acquaintance.”

Steve stopped short at that. Was she flirting with him? Nobody, in his short 24 years of his life, ever made the first move. Most women never even looked in his direction, nobody seemed to be eager to line up for a dance with a man they could step on.

“Yeah, I-- I’m healthier now. Well, not healthy per se , I still have asthma and allergies, sometimes if it gets really cold emphysema kicks in, but-- you know what, you don’t want to hear about this. I’m Steve Rogers. And you are?” Steve hastily finished shoving his hand in front of him for the woman to shake, mortified at himself for making such a fool of himself in front of this goddess of a woman.

She didn’t seem to mind his ramblings, though. Her bell-like laughter ringing in his ear, “Natasha Stark. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Steve Rogers.”

Her hands felt calloused in Steve’s own hand, and as he took her hand in his it felt surprisingly warm, not at all like how he imagined a woman’s hand would feel like. But Natasha’s knowledge of machinery and her boyish attire most likely meant that she spent her days tinkering with machines, instead of in lavish society parties.

“Stark? Any relation to --” Steve gestured towards the empty stage at the Stark booth.

“He’s my cousin.” Natasha clarified, “to be precise, he’s my fifth cousin, once removed.”  

“Oh, that’s...far…”

“Yes, very much so.” Natasha, God such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman, said again. “What brings you to the Expo, Steve?”

“My good friend, Bucky.” Steve looked around for Bucky and his dates only to found that they were gone from his vicinity. In his fascination of Natasha, he completely disregarded Bucky and his plan for a double date. “It’s his last night in town. He’s shipping out to England tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Natasha nodded in understanding, “I’m sorry. It seems I’ve unknowingly separated you from him.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. I can always find him again later.” Steve brushed off Natasha’s concern, determined to keep them talking for as long as possible, “what about you? Are you here for your cousin?”

“Yes. To tell him “I told you so” repeatedly and annoyingly after the inevitable event of his flying car demonstration crashing and burning to the ground.”

“You’re not vindictive at all, Ms. Stark,” Steve told her.

“I know not what you speak of, Mr. Rogers.” Natasha retorted back, a petulant, cheeky smile on her lips.

They walked as they talked and when Steve realized again, they were standing in front of an Army recruiting station. Steve looked up despondently at the sign. Five rejections he had so far. Maybe sixth time would be the charm. The rumpled up rejection letter still reside in his jacket pocket reminding him of his failures. Looking at the beautiful woman in front of him, who somehow gave him a second glance, gave him a time of the day to talk to her, to make her laugh, Steve felt compelled to try once again.

Natasha seemed to take his silence as contemplation, “Thinking of enlisting?”

“Yeah. I--” Steve debated, would disclosing his enlistment rejections make Natasha think less of him? “I’ve tried. Five times. All 4Fs.”

Natasha winced in sympathy, “Perhaps sixth time would be the charm for you, Steve. It’s a fair after all. Why not try your luck?”

Was she somehow a mind reader? She had pluck the thought right out of his head.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Steve responded to her. She was a couple inches taller than he was, which seemed to be the case with everyone he encountered. Steve always felt a sense of self-consciousness every time he had to look up to talk to someone. Yet somehow, it didn’t feel that way with Natasha. It felt right.

Natasha smiled again, “I f everyone fought for their own convictions there would be no war . Good luck, Steve. Perhaps I’ll see you around?” she offered her hand out for Steve to shake. Steve readily took it, that warm sensation from before suffusing him again.

“Did you just quote War and Peace at me?”

Natasha winked, “It’s appropriate for the occasion, don’t you think? It was nice meeting you, Steve. Good luck with your sixth try.”

“Good bye, Natasha. I hope we’ll see each other again.”

Natasha nodded at him as she turned to leave. Steve stayed rooted to his spot, watching her leave. With any luck, he would finally be able to join up, serve and come back home in one piece. And if he hasn’t tempted fate enough, maybe seek out Natasha and ask her permission to court her.

“Steve! There you are! Come on!  You’re kind of missing the point of a double date. We’re taking the girls dancing.” it seems like Bucky and the girls finally found him, standing by himself in front of the recruitment center, contemplating a life that he wasn’t sure would happen.

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” Steve answered listlessly.

“You’re really gonna do this again?”

Steve shrugged, and using Natasha’s words replied to Bucky, “Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.”

“As who? Steve from Ohio?” Bucky scowled, “They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.”

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this.” Steve said solemnly, willing Bucky to understand his point of view. Why was it so hard to convince Bucky, when Natasha understood so easily?

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war!”

“I know it’s a war. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.” Bucky tried to convince him again.

“What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?”

“Yes! Why not!”

“Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

Bucky gave him a look that he secretly dubbed the “calling you out on your bullshit” look, “Right. Cause you got nothing to prove.”

Steve looked away from him, because what else could he say. He did have something to prove, but that’s only a small part of it. A larger part was his need to serve, his desire to be useful for his country, his fellow men. He has no energy to debate Bucky again.

Bucky finally relented when the girls started bugging him about going dancing. He left with one last hug to Steve. Steve hugged back with as much fervor, hoping against all hope that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw his brother again.

“Don’t win the war till I get there!” he said in parting, Bucky already corralling the girls and muttering something about their song playing.

As he turned back around to enter the recruitment station, resolute and steadfast, he belatedly noticed that his aching and scuffed up knuckles from the alley fight was no longer hurting.

Odd.