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

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Steven Rogers AKA Captain America

Authors Note: There are so many canon and non canon stories of Steve Rogers childhood and his parents out there. This is the one in my universe. I know it is old history but I just wanted to include a bit more about Steve and then I promise we will be back to Bucky. 

Steven Rogers AKA Captain America

1918 Onwards

Joseph and Sarah Rogers loved children but had never planned to have any of their own. Joseph had been seriously injured in a mustard gas attack during the First World War and had been warned that he would probably not live to see old age. As a couple, they felt the circumstances would not be fair on any child.

However, not everything went to plan and Sarah fell pregnant. They were both overjoyed because although the child was unplanned, it would not be unwanted. It would be loved and cherished.

The baby was delivered on Independence Day – the fourth of July, 1918; a boy and they decided to name him Steven Grant Rogers. It was both a joyous and a sad day because it was obvious from the start that the child was sickly. Doctors warned them to have him baptised as soon as possible as they felt he would not last the week. In a quiet ceremony within the hospital the baptism took place.

A week later, Sarah and the child were sent home. The baby was struggling to live, but it became clear that this child would be a fighter. Sarah was a nurse, which was a godsend in the early days. The doctors marvelled when Steve reached his first birthday.

But then there was devastating news for the Rogers family. Joseph's health had taken a serious downward turn, and before Steven Rogers had turned two, Joseph had died. What fate gives with one hand it takes away with the other.

Sarah was distraught. She had become the main breadwinner and mother to a child whose health had to be so carefully monitored, and she had no relatives who could help. However, help was at hand. In the tenement where they lived the neighbours were kind. They pulled together because both Sarah and Joseph had been one of those couples who were always there when you needed a friend; the neighbours would tell Sarah they were just repaying that kindness.

Whilst Steve was a sickly child he was also a quiet, contented child and had the most wonderful shy smile. Blond, blue eyed like both his parents, he was also inquisitive. Even at an early age he held a view of the world that few people see. He saw beauty in it. He rarely complained, even when he was in pain. By the age of ten the list of illnesses he had suffered was well into double figures.

Whilst he was enrolled and attended school there were many times he would miss classes because of these illnesses. So many of his conditions could be triggered by so much or even so little: the seasons, foods, excitement, distress, being around smokers (which thankfully Sarah was not), stress, pollution, exercise and for him one of the worst possible – pets because Steven Rogers would have loved to have had a dog and Sarah would have loved for him to have one as a companion, but it was just too dangerous. A simple walk in the park at the wrong time of the year could put him in bed for weeks. Cleaning the house, beating the carpets, pet hair. Getting wet on a rain day. A day at school when a cold was being spread around. A busy street. Even playing with other children. So much he could not do, so much he railed against and tried to do anyway. How many times had she had to tell him off for trying to be a normal child? Too many. She had lost count.

One place he was relatively safe in was the local library. He loved to go into the old building and look at all the books. If he wasn't looking for something fictional to read, then he could be found in the arts section because he had a love for drawing and painting. He was always scribbling on bits of paper because he could not afford a sketch pad. His drawings were beautiful; he has an eye for perspective and could capture something, anything, on the paper. Sketching he finds, calms him; he can disappear to another world and sometimes his mind is desperate to escape the confines of his own frail body.