sunshine boy

sunshine boy

SARAH ROGERS

— brooklyn, new york, 1923 —

The timer on the counter was almost as old as Sarah’s grandmother. It was a lovely handmade wooden hourglass, painted white with scratches and chips that interrupted the design of the intricate Forget-Me-Nots that the old woman painted herself. The sand was taken right from the beaches of Sandymount that Grandma Mary would gather on her morning walks to the market. It was one of the only things Sarah couldn’t bring herself to leave behind when she came to America five years ago. She only ever brought it out for special occasions.

Diana was visiting today.

Ever since Sarah gained custody of Steven, Diana has been keeping tabs in the form of annual visits and letters that came every month or so. The Goddess made it quite clear that she didn’t exactly approve of Sarah’s parenting methods - often letting Steven get away with things that the nurse made very clear were not allowed in her household. From rude mannerisms to lavishly dangerous gifts, Diana visiting always meant that there was going to be a mess that Sarah was going to have the spend the days after she left reinstituting the Rogers household rules.

Not only that, but Diana visiting meant that Sarah had to take a few days off from the hospital. Sure, Diana tried to reimburse her the money she lost from not working, but the blonde was a proud woman who didn’t need any help in raising her son. The Amazon, on the other hand, believed that Sarah wasn’t doing a good enough job since Steven’s previously strong lungs have deteriorated into asthma and his small body looked nowhere near as full as a normal five year old’s body was.

But Saints be damned if Sarah didn’t pull out all the stops this time. Having traded one of her paintings for fresh eggs and flour, a pair of old ghillies slippers for sweet chocolate, and spending the night on the arm of Dr. Barnham for extra medication for Steven, she was determined to make this the visit that Diana will finally realize that Sarah was a good mother. Today, she was baking chocolate chip cookies . Dressed in a salvaged blue dress and wearing her mother’s pearls, Sarah made sure that she looked put together, but also that Steven was dressed to the nines with new clothes so nice that the poor lamb has been confined indoors all day.

Well, at least he’s not alone.

A small hand reached up and patted around on the table where Sarah was plating the cookies, only to be light smacked with the spatula. “James,” she sighed, “What did I say? You boys can have cookies after Auntie Diana arrives,”

The little boy at her feet stood a good few inches taller than Steven, just enough so that he can reach the table surface on his tiptoes. Steven also knew that while Sarah had a soft spot for her son, she had no power over Jamie Barnes’ childish charm that came when you mixed a wholesome Midwestern hospitality with heartwarming Jewish manners. The boy looked up at Sarah with bright blue eyes that either turned grey or green depending on the time of day, a wide smile that was all cheeks already plastered on his face. “Just one! Stevie and I needt’a try ‘em,” he begged, “We’re good at judgin’!”

“Really now? Can you two be good at listening too?” Sarah asked, pushing the plate further to the middle of the wooden table and away from the little boy’s sticky fingers. James sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes as he pushed off from the edge of the table.

“But Mrs. Rogers! We’re starving,”

“Goodness, James, you act as if your mother never feeds you,” she said, hand pressed against the young boy’s back to nudge him towards Steven’s bedroom across the apartment, “Away with you, now. You and Steven can have plenty of cookies afterAuntie Diana arrives,”

James made it halfway across the room until he stopped in the middle, pushing dark curls away from his face and turning to Sarah with a pouty lip and big puppy dog eyes that certainly were able to fool Mrs. Dolin down in the bakery, but Sarah just crossed her arms across her chest with a stern look that had the boy rolling his eyes again. “Stebie!” he shouted, then sang the last part as he trotted over to Steven’s room, “It didn’t work!”

Sighing, Sarah returned to the task at hand as she muttered under her breath, “Always have to repeat yourself with that boy,”.

The truth is is that James was actually a Godsent. It was no secret that the other boys didn’t appreciate the fact that Steven couldn’t breathe well, making it hard to play a sport for hours with the rest of them. Mixing that with the sharp smart mouth the kid had on him, there wasn’t exactly a line of kids wanting to be his friend. The only friend Steven truly had was James — the small Jewish boy from upstairs. His mother, Winifred Barnes, was the center of attention of the building for being a sweet woman with movie star quality looks to boot. She spoke quick, always had an abundance of food she loved to pass out to the neighbors, and the most gorgeous horde of children in the building. The woman was a lot of help to Sarah, often offering to take Steven in when Sarah had to work, but her biggest contribution was her love of gossip.

Lord, did Winnie absolutely love to gossip. Every now and again on Sarah’s days off, the doorbell would ring to announce that Winnie was at the door with a jug of sweet tea in one hand and a vibrating James in the other. She’d send him off to play with Steven with a strict glare that said a thousand words, sit at the old uneven table in the middle of the kitchen, and remind Sarah that she was also a human being that was allowed to relax. Winnie would go on about Mrs. Someone and Mr. Who, never pausing or slowing down as she gave her two cents while both mothers kept an eye on the boys’ antics in the living room.

God, Sarah would give almost anything to have Winifred in the room during the visit.

For now, she had to make due with herself and her sunshine boy. “Steven!” she called, checking the time on the clock that stood proud on the window cell. Almost ten minutes before Diana would arrive — she had to start fixing Steven up. Sarah rushed over to the sink to dab a few drops on her rag, the sounds of shoes clobbering on the hardwood floors. She turned.

Steven wore an angry pout on his small face, blonde locks flat and short on top his head with the exception of the stubborn cowlick that disobeyed both their efforts. The tie around his neck was coming undone, the shoes on his feet about two sizes too big. “Momma,” he started, “My shoes are too big,”

Sarah pressed her lips into a thin line. Perhaps she’d been too presumptuous thinking that he would be able to grow into the shoes - not now, of course, but she hoped his foot would’ve at least grown a bit in the last three weeks since she bought them. Tomorrow, she'll pick up some newspapers to stuff in them, hopefully it'll make the shoe more snug on his small feet. “Hold still, darlin’” she ordered, wiping away the charcoal from his cheek with the rag despite the boy trying to pull away. She managed to get the biggest stain off, but somehow the boy managed to get charcoal on the back of his neck . “How do you manage to get pencil on the back of your neck?”

“Wasn’t me, Mrs. Rogers!” Jamie quipped from the bedroom’s doorway. Oh, it absolutely was James’ doing . 

She rolled her eyes and turned the child around, frowning a bit at how his crooked spine was visible from his dress shirt. Nothing she can do about it now. She got to work on wiping the mark from his neck when Steven spoke in a soft tone, “Momma?”

“Steven?”

“How come Auntie Diana comes every year? Bucky says that his Auntie Ida only comes on Hanukkah and Passover,” his voice was a little tight, one of the early signs that the chill of autumn air was getting the best of him, “It’s not Hanukkah or Passover. I asked ,”

The stain was almost as stubborn as Steven, but Sarah knew how to deal with stubborn things. “Well, some Aunties come for holidays, others like to visit willy-nilly,” she smiled, turning the boy around to start fixing his tie, “Now, remember what I said when Auntie Diana visited last year?”

“Yes, momma!” Steven smiled back, shifting on his feet, “‘You’re my momma, so I hafta listen to you’,”

“Very good!” The tie finally tightened enough to look presentable on Steven’s small stature. The boy still beamed up at her, and the warmth in her chest returned in a flurry of love that she felt the moment she took the boy in her arms for the first time. She cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “My sunshine boy,”

Steven leaned into her touch even as she tried to pull away, his eyes fluttered closed and a small smile on his youthful face. Sarah knew this was the time of a child’s life that all mothers would look back to reminisce on - a moment in time when their sons still showed love and affection openly without shame, the only thought in their head to justify it being that they loved their mother. In fact, Jamie didn’t even try to poke fun at Steven, knowing full well that the boy was the exact same with his mother whenever he thought that no other adults were around.

Her sunshine boy slotted his head on the crook of her neck and shoulder, sleepy smile widening when she only laughed and scratched his head. His small voice piped up, “I want a cookie, momma,” then nuzzled into her neck further like a borrowing honey badger. She rolled her eyes, patting his behind before standing up.

“Go play with James, sunshine,”

The two boys took off in groans and laughter, shoving each other playfully while running over to James’ set of Lincoln Logs. Their plan, as told by Steven at bedtime, was to build a tower higher than the Woolworth Building. She told him he needed a lot more Lincoln Logs to build it, then the boy replied by saying James offered to chop down a tree for more wood. It was a back and forth arguement of “yes, momma” and “no, Steven” before the two finally agreed that Lincoln Logs were going to be gifted for his sixth birthday in the summer.

There was a crash from the bedroom followed by groaning - a quick glance revealed all the logs on the floor with both boys laying face down in disappointment. “Steven! Get up off the floor before you dirty up your shirt,”

The doorbell rang as the two boys were getting up and dusting themselves up. Sarah’s heart dropped down to her stomach as she heard the polite knock on their door. She pulled both boys into the living room, quickly ordering them to stand side by side in the middle of the living room, and licked her thumb to fix any stray hairs. “Smile,” she whispered, demonstrating with her own smile as the boys beamed back at her. She nodded in approval and went to open the door.

Diana Prince stood in the doorway with a poised stance that spoke to her royal background. Her piercing eyes were shrouded by the brim of a hat that was tipped low, roaming around the apartment before nodding towards Sarah. “It’s nice to see you, Sarah,” she said, handing the nurse a tray of … cookies, “Etta sends her regards. She made them herself using French chocolate,”

Sarah tried to let the coincidence slide, though she really can’t help it if her smile became tight. “How charming. I’ll just set these on the table,” she said to no one in particular, since Diana had already moved away from the doorway and started to approach Steven. It was only then that Sarah saw the large object wrapped in newspaper behind the Goddess’ back.

“Hello, Steven,” she smiled, something genuine that Sarah rarely saw in the past five years that they had been having these regular visits, “Are you happy to see me?”

Steven looked at Sarah for approval, the woman waving her hand at him and using her fingers to lift up her own smile. The boy then smiled wider, lunging to hug Diana in a short but sweet embrace. “Yes, Auntie Diana,”

Diana chuckled at that, her gloved hand coming up to rub the boney back of the boy. Steven shied away and wiggled out of the embrace with the energy that only a five year old child can possess. Though, the energy was then put into bouncing over to where James still stood in the living room. Grabbing him by the hand, Steven pulled the taller boy towards Diana. “This is James. He’s my bestest friend!” the blonde boy started, “We’re gonna build houses together when we grow up,”

“How do you do?” Jamie shouted, filling the apartment with his high-pitched voice. Sarah winced as it echoed. She hoped that Mr. DeNuncia didn’t mind the noise - being in the same building as James and all. “I’m James Bucky Barnes!”

Sarah wrinkled her nose at the mispronunciation, and she held back a laugh when she saw Steven’s face wrinkling up in the same fashion. Bless his heart, Winifred did go a little overboard when naming her first born. The woman’s exact words being, “It sounded nice on paper! You throw a rock in Indiana and you hit two men named James, but you won’t hit someone named James Buchanan,”. In all fairness, Steven wasn’t exactly the most unique name, but her little boy was unique enough on his own. It was much better than naming a child a name so needlessly complicated and wrong in the mouth of a child that can barely hold a fork.

Diana smiled over at James, extending a hand to him and almost completely folding to reach his level. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking his small hand when it is offered. In the years that follow, Sarah made sure to bring up how James’ cheeks actually flushed when Diana spoke to him - full cheeks turning red as a silly smile spread over his lips. It would lead to many shoving matches between the two boys that would lead to playful roughhousing, all because James thought that Diana Prince was pretty. 

Pretty . Of course she was gorgeous. It was the first thing Sarah noticed when she stepped into that apartment five years ago following Etta - heart in her throat as she imagined what kind of horror awaited her since the plump woman was in such a rush to get her in the room as quick as possible. The years that passed didn’t so much as leave a freckle out of place on her beautiful face. Time stood still for Diana in a way in which a century meant merely an hour had passed.

And, Lord, Sarah hated to admit it. Hating admitting to anything that burst her perfect little fantasy bubble, but Steven started to resemble his real parents as he grew older. At first, Sarah could easily just pretend that Steven took after Joseph’s side of the family with a straight nose and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. Then he started to display the lines between his eyebrows when he concentrated hard enough, his lips filling out like his mother’s, and his hair going from a light blonde to a dusty blonde like his father (as Diana had pointed out last year).

The older her little boy got, the less hers he became.

“I got you a gift,” the woman’s voice snapped Sarah back to reality as her maternal instincts kicked in - rushing from the kitchen counter the living room faster than her breaking mary jane heels allowed her to. The gift was poorly wrapped in newspaper that could barely conceal the long blade of a sword . The boys eyes widened as they saw the familiar shape from the storybooks, both vibrating with anticipation. “It’s called the God Killer-”

“No, no!” Sarah grabbed the sword from Diana and almost dislocated her shoulder to do so. The boys’ faces fell in disappointment, Diana’s eyes murderous, but Sarah set it down on the floor where it could do no damage. “No swords, Auntie Diana! We spoke about this,”

“If I recall,” Diana rose up from the floor, cheekbones suddenly looking like knives, “I believe it was less of speaking and more of you lecturing me,”

“Lecturing you? I did no such thing,”

“No? What do you call it when someone belittles you for half an hour?”

“Well considering that you brought a big sharp knife into my home, I believe that I have the right to—”

Steven stomped his foot on the ground, hugging his small body in a fashion that Sarah assumed meant he was crossing them disapprovingly. His lips were puckered inward, and the lines between his eyebrows were prominent. James didn’t seem to be in the same room as everyone else, his little eyes staring intensely at the cookies on the counter. He seemed unaware of the distressed child next to him. “Momma!” Steven said, “No yelling!”

Sarah and Diana were silent for a long time, looking between Steven and the other with stilled anger. The nurse cleared her throat, fidgeting with her dress to a more presentable look before bending down slightly to look at Steven. Her tapped his nose with her finger. “You’re right, darling. No more yelling,” She stood back up straight, moving her bangs out of her eyes, “I’ll be in the kitchen finishing up supper. Diana, do you mind keeping an eye on James too?”

Diana’s lips twitched like she wanted to say something else, to finish the conversation, but she merely nodded toward Sarah. Steven had lost his pout, exchanging it for a more serious set face that she swore he must’ve gotten from one of the neighbors in the building. He reached up and took Diana’s hand in his own, pulling her towards his bedroom. The look on the brunette's face had all the previous resentment draining from Sarah’s body — she knew how precious it was when a child grabbed hold of you and refused to let go with their immense strength. Diana looked back at Sarah over her shoulder, eyes wide, before going back to following wherever Steve was leading her to. James followed behind with a jealous tinge to his brow that Sarah also felt on her own face.

With the bread out of the oven to cool and the stew marinating, Sarah tapped her finger against the counter of the kitchen as she puckered her lips in annoyance. Supper was ready, yet the squeals and giggles coming from Steven’s room only served as warning to not interrupt the bonding. Still, she felt restless standing around doing nothing - so she grabbed the plate of inferior cookies made with American chocolate, the watered down wine she got as a gift, and stormed out of the apartment.

She gave a half-hearted explanation behind her. If her heels sounded angry as she stomped upstairs, she didn’t spare it a second thought. She arrived to the Barnes’ door in a flurry of knocking until the Jewish woman swung open the door with a frown.

“What is with the noise, Sarah? I’m trying to put Rebecca down for a na—” she was interrupted as Sarah shoved the cookies into her hands, moving past her without a word to the polished kitchen to rummage for two glasses, “Wh-what is this? Are these cookies?”

“Yup!” Sarah grumbled, struggling to pop open the cork on the bottle, “Made them this morning. They’re not as good as French fancy chocolate chip cookies, but didn’t want them to go to waste,”

Winnie gave her a puzzled look, but eventually caved into the mad woman’s ramblings and set the cookies down in the middle of her big dining room table - adorned with a honey yellow and white table cloth that spoke to the woman’s refined pallet. “Alright, alright,” she said, sitting down on a chair and looked over at Sarah from over a smooth shoulder. Sarah finally managed to get the cork off the bottle, bringing it over to the dining room table with two glasses in her other hand. Usually, Sarah Rogers tried to keep herself composed at all times in case her son needed her. Steven’s health conditions were longer than her arm, so she has to make sure to always be alert in case he ever needed her - so that meant that it was rare that Sarah would go out, drink, or even be inside the Barnes’ home.

Consider today her cheat day.

“Care to share what’s eating at you?” Winnie asked, watching Sarah as she poured herself a generous amount of wine into the glass — dazzling eyes widening while the alcohol reached halfway to the rim. Sarah couldn’t care less, but she did stop pouring to attend to Winnie’s glass.

There was a pause, the nurse reached for the bottle again, and the brunette slid the wine away so it was out of Sarah’s grasp with a muttered “No, no, no”.

Sarah huffed. “You know, children are delicate creatures. Their brains are like mush and their bodies can barely hold up a toy train, much less a sword -” Winnie parted her lips to speak, but the blonde interrupted her with a finger, “I’ll get to that in a minute —” then she continued, “She thinks she can just come into my house and act like she’s been with Steven since he was a babe. I’m the one that moved to a completely new country, worked my arse off to support the both of us, cared for my son when he was il—”

Winnie laid a hand on the other woman’s, her warm touch reminded Sarah to breathe deeply through her nose. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she moved her hands to her lap. She watched as her finger worried red lines into the meat between her pointer finger and thumb. “Sarah, you’re going to have to start from the beginning. Who are you talking about?”

“Diana,”

“Diana Keating? From the bakery?”

Blue eyes met with blue eyes for the longest time, both women staring at the other to see who dared to break the tension between them. Winnie had questions and Sarah had reluctant answers - eventually one of them were going to have to cave. In the meantime, both mothers took swings from their glasses as George Barnes’ clock ticked loudly to fill the whole home. Tick, tick, tick . The children on the street were playing and screaming, a mix of languages intermingling to become the native tongue of Brooklyn. Tick, tick, tick . Rebecca’s small body made the loudest noise as she shifted in her sleep from the crib in her parent’s room. Tick, tick -

Sarah caved.

Finishing the wine, she started telling Winnie a secret she had hoped to take with her to her grave. She started off with how she met Joseph at a bar her coworkers took her to after working in the hospital. He was shy, inching over slowly to speak to her. When she finally did start to talk to the young man, his face split into a wide smile and he took her hand. They stayed out for the rest of the night, toeing off their shoes to run in the cold water like children in the summer. Sarah smiled fondly at the memory, but the warmth in her chest didn’t last long when she told Winnie about her miscarriage. The blood that stained her sheet in the middle of the night, the echoing screams she unleashed into the starry night as she lost everything in a span of a few months. She didn’t notice her voice choking up until Winnie reached over to cup Sarah’s trembling hand in her own, a smile to encourage her to keep talking.

From there, she went into the details of Steven’s birth and Diana’s involvement into her life. She hesitated at first with who Diana was exactly, so she forewent telling Winnie that tidbit of information — just left it to the ultimate punchline of this sick joke the universe played on her; Steven wasn’t her flesh and blood and his real mother came t—

“That’s not true,” Winnie laughed, reaching for a cookie from the plate, “Oh, there goes my diet,” she whispered before taking a bite, ruby lips leaving a small smudge on the other half of the cookie, “Anyway, it’s not true. You are every bit Steven’s mother as Diana is — Hell! Even more!”

“Win-”

“No, no, I listened to you blab for a good while, now you have to listen to me,” she smiled, a healthy shine in her eye, “You’re Steven’s mother. Flesh and blood are just Devilish details. I’ve seen how you look at him with all the love in the world … Diana may have birthed him, but you are his mother. It’s been five years, you need to stop worrying about this ‘false life’. This is your life, Sarah. Steven is your son. It’s … tough accepting something like that. The guilt. But it gets easier,”

“How do you know?”

“Hm?” Winnie’s face looked like porcelain, a fancy doll in the storefront with no emotion other than the dusted pink on the cheeks, “Know what?”

“... Winnie, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Now it was Winnie’s turn to chew her lip, drinking from the glass with the cookie forgot on the smooth plane of the table. She swallowed the drink, smacking her lips with a soft “Damnit,” before she leaned back in the chair. Winnie took a deep breath. “It seems that I may also have a secret,”

Sarah stayed silent, Winnie continued, “I— … George and I were meant to be married since we were teenagers. His father and my father were childhood friends and pushed for us to be married - something about how we could double our fortune. I felt like … like a thing. I was my own person. I didn’t need Daddy to pick out my future. Well, I guess I wanted to defy him in someway, rebel against him,” She picked at the pearly buttons of her dress, imaginary lent plucked off, “All it took was a whole bottle of rum and a sailor on leave, and suddenly … there was James,”

The nurse swallowed her gasp. James wasn’t George’s son. She mentally kicked herself for not noticing sooner. How could she have not known? George had the features of a rugged farmer, the body of a man who was no stranger to hauling hay and swinging a scythe. He was the epitome of an American-made son — heir of a successful farming company and the hardworking spirit passed down to him from generations of American men. Pale blue eyes that betrayed all emotions, his face always looked set with steel, yet he never hesitated to crack a smile when his son would run into his arms after a long day. He treated Winniefred like a Queen in her own right, holding her by the waist whenever he planted a chaste kiss to her cheek.

Yet James had soft features that did not come from his child-like plumpness. His eyes were piercing — bright enough to illuminate a room, sharp enough to be used as a weapon. Soft and sweet, he looked nothing like the Goliath that was his supposed father. He had gotten his Yiddish curls from his mother, but his teasing and charming smile came from none of the couple.

“Did you … does the father …?”

Winnie let out an awfully dark laugh, narrowed eyes that had an intent to kill given the chance. “Yes, he’s aware of James. Saw him once down at the market when James was only two and we’d just moved to New York. I told him that he was his son. Named him James Buchanan because it sounded nice on paper,” her face soured, “You know what he said to me? ‘Get that bastard away from me. I want nothin’ to do with it.’”

Sarah had never seen a snarl on Winnie’s beautiful face, the way her lips curled to resemble that of a beast in the wild. “Can you believe that? The asshole met his son for the first time and he doesn’t even try to be apart of his life,”

“Does George know?” Sarah asked, voice soft to avoid Winnie to draw back. The brunette sniffed.

“Yes. I told him as soon as I found out and the loon proposed to me right on the spot. Said he couldn’t wait to raise a family with me,” Winnie smiled, “Whatta load of shit. Here we were, thinking we could of had the perfect family,” her leg bounced restlessly, “You know that diseases can be passed down from parents? I didn’t,”

Flying to her lips, Sarah finally let out a gasp. Winnie wiped her tears and reached for a cigarette from her breast pocket. Her perfect lips wrapped around the butt of the cigarette, lighting it with a match she activated on the bottom of her shoe, and lit it with a spark. Her cheeks hollowed as she took a breath, breathing it out in a puff of smoke. “James has a rare condition. It works fast. Doc says that it’s passed down by the father, the ass. Somethin’ about how his spine formed. By the time my baby is twenty-six, it’ll be a Godsend if he can walk,”

It suddenly made sense, in a way. James was so full of energy, but he almost never wanted to play outside with the other children. Once in a while, she’d send them down to the market to grab a few things and the boys would go happily, but she’d never seen the boy run around like someone with his energy level would. A small mean voice in her head was happy though, that her son had a best friend who understood what it was like to live with a lifelong illness.

“I’m so sorry,” Sarah whispered, dropping hers hands to touch the warm skin on Winnie’s arm. Her thumb rubbed the appendage encouragingly. “I know how hard it is to not be able to stop your son’s suffering,”

Winnie’s lips became a thin line, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray. The smoke from the tray twisted like how Sarah always imagined the faes in her grandmother’s stories did. The woman looked at Sarah with red-rimmed eyes that made the color of her blue eyes, speaking to the anguish of a mother incapable of stopping her child’s pain. Sarah smiled, and then Winnie smiled.

The two continued to make small talk. Winnie perked up when Sarah asked about Rosemary O’Neil from across the street, immediately launching into a long tangent about the gossip she heard from the others in the building. It was nice. A small reprieve that allowed the nurse to feel young — still not ripped with wisdom and allowed to make mistakes.

The moment was gone with a sharp scream that Sarah recognized to be her son’s.

Jumping out of the chair, Sarah ran out the door, and rushed down the stairs to the floor below her. The others in the building were halfway out of their doors out of curiosity rather than concern. Her heart was loud in her ears, only hearing her son screaming as all the possibilities ran through her head. She pushed the bedroom door open with a mighty shove, ignoring the plaster that rained when the doorknob slammed into the wall.

Red. That’s all she saw. At the center of the room, Steven was laying on the floor with a large gash down his arm and onto his chest. Her son’s eyes were screwed shut as he screamed and screamed, little hand trying to keep the blood from weeping out of his limb. James sat on the floor with both hands over his ears, face screwed up as if he was about to start wailing also. The epicenter of the chaos was crouched near Steve, hair loose around her shoulder and the goddamned swordnext to her with a scarlet tip.

Sarah could only scream in fear, falling to her knees next to her son. He looked up at her with watery eyes, face a deep flushed red as he leaned towards her chest with a slurred chant of, “Momma,”. He tried to suck in breath, but his poor lungs couldn’t take in air at a normal capacity — much less under distress. The blonde found herself caught between wanting to lay Diana out like laundry, or comforting the child in her arms; and she didn’t shock herself in the slightest when she chose Steven.

“Let Momma see,” she whispered, smoothing out the cowlick on his toadhead, “Hush, now, you’ll be alright,”. With a deep gulp, Steven moved his hand away from the wound with a whine to show Sarah. The gash was deep, but not deep enough to have hit bone or anything important for that matter — much less warrant stitches that she was thankful wouldn’t be necessary. Though it would leave an impressive scar on his fragile skin. His first, in fact. “You’re fine. Nothing my big boy couldn’t handle,”

Steven sniffed loudly, hiccuping as he tried to suck in more air. She looked around for something to cover the injury with. She ultimately decided that there are many salvaged dresses but only one Steven; tearing off a strip of the bottom hem of her dress to fashion it around the cut on his arm. It did the trick nicely, just temporarily as she lifted the child to his feet. Sarah pressed a kiss to the cloth, wiping her son’s tears with her thumbs. “James, do me a favor? Take Steven up to your house, I’ll be by shorty to get him,” she narrowed her eyes towards the other adult in the room, pushing Steven out of the room gently with James trotting along behind him, “I need to have a word with Auntie Diana,” 

She waited. The children's’ footsteps grew more faint as did James’ gentle reassurances and Steven’s hiccups. Diana opened her mouth, though she was shot down by a single finger held up. It’s truly amazing how the scorn of an angry mother was enough to silence a Goddess. She strained her ears to hear the door upstairs slam shut, then Sarah stood up.

“Help me understand,” Sarah said, and she shocked herself with how her voice remained steady, “What happened, Diana?”

The Goddess stood uncertainly, shoulders squared but wringing  her hands in a fashion that looked so much like a human. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He wanted to know. He … he asked to see it in action, I didn’t realize how close he was standing to me,”

“You didn’t-” Sarah’s hands shook, forcing her to compose herself before speaking again, “You use a dangerous weapon around children and you didn’t consider how close they were? You could’ve cut one of their heads clean off!”

“I didn’t think—”

“You’re fucking right, Diana. You don’t think! God! I’ve told you hundreds of times; Steven is mortal! Stop trying to force him to be something he’s not! He’s perfectly fine the way he is!” There was a hot ball of anger and resentment building in her chest. It was the kind that forced good men into doing bad things, the kind of anger only ever witnessed in Biblical stories that usually involved a rain of fire to hail down on an unsuspecting city. It was twisted and ugly, filling her head with temptations to say the nastiest things to a woman who was trying, but not giving it her all. This, Sarah finally understood, was love. When you were ready to fight a dragon with nothing but the sharpness of your tongue.

Diana’s face screwed up in disbelief, offense painted on her face in the form of a gaped mouth and a furrowed brow. “You don’t know that. He’s strong, stronger than a child should be. Perhaps, if given the proper training—”

“Stop, stop , just stop it, Diana. God, are you even listening to me? I know Steven better than I know my own mind. It scares me how much I love him. I’d do anything for him and it terrifies me because I don’t know the limits I could go to for him,” she knew she was yelling, loud and angry. She didn’t care. “I love Steven more than anything in my life. He is the best thing in both of our lives, Diana,”

“You don’t think I know that?” Diana roared, taking strides so that she was a mere foot away from Sarah. “It kills me to hear him call you his mother. He’s everything to me. Not being around him is like living without a heart. I stay up at night worried sick, wondering if he’s safe. There are terrible men in this world. They are bringing down empires and killing good people, and Steven is the only one that can be strong enough to stop them. He is good, Sarah, so full of it. He can make the world a better place for everyone,”

Sarah didn’t realize that her eyes filled with angry tears, letting out a bitter short laugh. “You’re not listening!” it came out shrill and sharp, high and irate, “Steven is a person. He is an actual human being with feelings and hobbies. He’s never going to be what you want him to be,” A few strands of blonde locks fell onto her eyes, “You have no idea what it means to be a mother, Diana Prince,”

“Oh? I don’t? Let me remind you, Sarah Rogers, that you are not his mother. It’s not your blood that runs through his veins, it’s mine. I made him. He’s a product of a rare union that has never been recorded in history. Steven is the only one of his kind,” Diana spat out the entire statement like venom, pinpricks of anger and hatred stabbing into Sarah’s heart. She was but a woman with insecurities that Diana could play like a violin.

‘You’re Steven’s mother. Flesh and blood are just Devilish details. I’ve seen how you look at him with all the love in the world … Diana may have birthed him, but you are his mother.’

Balling her fists, Sarah puffed out her chest and jabbed a sharp finger into Diana’s chest. Her face was now but two inches from the brunette's face. “He calls me ‘Momma’ because I’m the only one of his mothers that gives a rat’s ass about him. You come once a year and think that makes you a co-parent? Your actions have consequences, even the ones in which you do nothing. You want to be his mother?” she didn’t wait for a reply, “Congratulations, Diana, you’re a mother. You do best by Steven. Not what you think is best. You’re going to have to grow the fuck up right now. He is my son. The only way I’ll ever let you near him again will be when I am good and gone — and even then if you ever dare hurt him again, I will raise from my grave and you will find me far more horrifying than anything you claim exists in the heart of a man. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but that don’t have anything compared to me,”

Diana stared down at her, both women’s faces hard as rock. Sarah began to wonder if they would turn to statues from staying quiet and still for so long, just left to chip away in her apartment. An eternity of staring into Diana’s eyes with a threat hanging over them both. The Amazon took a deep breath. “Alright. You win. Tell me how I can be a better mother to Steven,”

“Get the fuck out of my apartment, and never return. I will tell him the truth on his eighteenth birthday, but until then, I never want you to contact either of us again,” Sarah gritted through closed teeth. She backed away from Diana to turn her heel towards the door.

“He won’t forgive you!” Diana spat, fists clenched, “He’ll never forgive you for lying to him,”

Sarah paused momentarily to glance at the woman behind her when she reached the archway, “No, he won’t. He’ll hate me,” she laughed bitterly, “That’s my sacrifice. I’ll lose his love and trust, but at least I kept him safe,” and with one last look to the irate mother, she said, “Goodbye, Diana,”

The night had fallen around the city of Brooklyn in the early hours of the afternoon. The record player from the apartment below the Rogers’ played a song as quiet and grainy as the old Victorian photographs Sarah’s mother use to show her when growing up. The apartment around her was dark save for the lone lamp on her bedside table, keeping the room illuminated as Sarah’s mind raced with thoughts from where she laid on the bed still in her torn dress. Diana had left hours ago, doing Steven the first good deed in his life by being gone by the time the nurse brought the boy back home.

Her boy held his arm to his chest the entire time, apologizing for being his age and captivated by curiosity. He sniffed and pouted for the entire time that she bandaged his arm — avoiding making eye contact with James who stood guarded at the doorway. Sarah had figured the boy was crying partly from the fear and partly due to the embarrassment of crying in front of his best friend. Both Rogers’ didn’t look any of the Barnes’ in the eye that night.

Besides, Winnie was too occupied with fixing her family dinner and discussing her day with George.

Sarah groaned into her hands, the ceiling panels suddenly too overwhelming to stare at. God, she had no idea what she was doing. One minute she’s being the perfect mother, the next she’s leaving her son alone with a near stranger, and then all the sudden she’s threatening a Goddess with bodily harm. She could just hear Joseph laughing at her from Heaven, flashing her that crooked tooth that was visible when he smiled.

“Laugh it up,” she said to no one in particular alive, “You married this mess,”

“Momma?” Sarah sat up from the pillows, spotting Steven standing at the doorway with his wrapped arm stiff against his body. He was rubbing his eye with his uninjured hand. “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Although Sarah had been firm on making sure that Steven wasn’t growing too attached to her for fear of how society perceived a gentle man, the day’s events had left her worn down to the point where only holding someone in that moment could recharge her. She smiled. “Of course, my sunshine boy,”

The words hadn’t even left her mouth before she suddenly had a bony body pressed against her side, legs spread out on the comforter as he leaned his back against Sarah’s chest. The way they fell into a comfortable position spoke to their bond. Sarah wrapped an arm around him, the other cupping the side of his head as her fingers scratched his head. Steven felt a tad warm, but it could’ve been from coming down from his earlier hysteria. Nothing to worry about.

“Momma?”

“Steven?”

“Um, can you tell me a story?,” he muttered, blue eyes wide and innocent staring up at Sarah. Ah, how could she forget his bedtime story. The fairytale book was in Steven’s room, though, and she’d be damned if she got up from the one place Sarah knew she could keep her son safe. They were halfway through Alice in Wonderland - a story that the child in her arms was completely in love with, with drawings dedicated to the different characters Alice came across. He told her once that Alice herself was his favorite. ‘She’s small like me, but then she gets big! I want to be big too!’

She held him a little closer, hoping he’d never get bigger. Boys are beautiful humans who love freely and cherish the small things in life, but men are terrible creatures that have been twisted by the world to becoming cruel enough to start wars where wars were not needed. Her fingers paused in his hair, drifting down to press her hand against his forehead in a protective instinct that she never knew she had.

The thoughts of a story for Steven jumped around in her head. There were so many that told such important messages, yet they didn't seem to stand out against the one her mother told her on a night like that one; a night shrouded by the darkness of the sky and the soul. It was one of her favorites, right next to the story of the beast and the beauty. She chewed on her words for a moment, then spoke:

“Once upon a time, there lived a young prince,” she started, and Steven became lax in her arms, “He grew up alone, for his father was too busy running the kingdom to play with the prince. The only companion the prince possessed was swans and his stories. Stories of mighty kings that traveled the world in swan drawn carriages, arriving to far off lands to share his wealth and rescue those in need. The prince dreamed of one day becoming a great king to his subjects, governing the land from a throne inside a castle that looked straight out of one of his stories. The years went by, and the prince grew up, but the land deteriorated as his kingdom was taken from him by evil sorcerers. The prince was now a puppet king. He was nothing like the kings in his stories. One day, while walking on the bank of a lake, he came across a beautiful swan. It’s feathers were tipped with gold, and it wore a crown made of the freshest blossoms. ‘Oh, beautiful swan,’ he said, ‘I wish to be a real king, just like in the books I read as a child. But I am weak, I cannot fight the sorcerers myself’. The swan replied, ‘Golden boy, I shall gift you the strength of ten men, but in return I ask that you dedicate your life to helping those in need and never bring a plague upon your subjects,’.

The boy agreed, and the swan said, ‘Ethereal boy, drink from the water of the lake and you shall have the strength to be a mighty king.’ And he did. He grew strong and tal—”

“Like Alice?” Steven asked from her side, “Is the water like the cakes that made her big?”

“In a way. The cakes made Alice grow to be very, very tall, but the water from the lake only made him powerful enough to defeat the sorcerer’s. He ran, and ran, until the soles of his feet were worn down and he arrived to the castle that he remembered from his youth. He fought off the sorcerer's that met him at the gates of the castle, thanks to the strength that the swan granted him. Though he didn’t kill them,”

“Why, Momma?”

“Because it would make him just as bad as the sorcerers. They, too, were once his subjects. And he had promised the swan that he would not bring a plague upon his subjects. He told them from the tallest step from the tallest tower, ‘I am your king. May you never cower to the ground in my presence, for you are not beneath me. May you never be fearful by the sight of me, for the sight of you brings me great joy. May you never see me as just a king, but as a good man.’ He lived in the castle from then on, naming it Neuschwanstein, meaning ‘New Swanstone Castle’. And he lived happily ever after,”

“Momma?”

“Steven?”

“I want to be strong just like the prince,” he coughed, nuzzling impossibly closer to his mother, “Like you said. Strong like ten men,”

Sarah chuckled, “Do you want to know a secret, my sunshine boy?” she continued, “Strength comes from within you. The king needed the strength to stand up to those— those bullies. But you, Steven, already have the strength of a million men,”

She pressed her fingers into the little boy’s stomach, tickling him briefly to get a nice laugh out of her baby. She squeezed him close, earning a squeal of joy that erased the echoes of Steven’s screaming only hours prior. “Momma! Momma!” he giggled, “Stop! I have to tell you something important!”

“Oh no, you sound serious,” Sarah smiled, nodding for him to continue. Steven scratched behind his neck, cheeks turning pink.

“Don’t tell Auntie Diana, but, I like your cookies more,” his face was screwed up in disgust, “The other ones were yucky,”

The blonde boy yawned loudly after his declaration, eyes dropping every once in a while. His skin gave a slight glow that Sarah knew wasn’t from the lamplight. She thanked every God and Saint she could think of for blessing her with this child, her miracle boy. Her golden crowned prince. “I love you,” she whispered into his ear, soft like a lullaby yet strong like a prayer. She kissed his head, “I love you more than anything in the entire world,”

Steven shifted until he was curled up against her front, legs tucked in and uninjured hand loosely holding onto her hand. His eyes finally came to a close in a flutter of ridiculously long eyelashes. Mouth fell open to allow more air, but he managed to speak through the haze of sleep.

“I love you too, Momma,” and the night was barren — just her and her sunshine boy against the world.