Letters

Rejected

Steve waited anxiously in the waiting room full of fit, rough and tough men feeling weak and scrawny and small, but he carried his head high and stood as straight and as tall as he could. While he was nervous about the alias he had used, he was willing to risk the law after him if it meant he got to fight in the war alongside Bucky and do his part to protect this country.

Steve heard names being called and patiently waited for his as he flipped through the newspaper. The man sitting next to him looked him up and down like he was some sort of alien. Like he didn't belong. How many times had Steve gotten this look before? A hundred? Maybe more.

"Rogers, Steven." The bored monotone voice of the Doctor called out. Steve stood up and waited his turn in line. When he stepped forward to the podium the Doctor gave him the same look the man on the bench did. "Rogers." He says slowly as if the name didn't fit him. Steve gives a short curt nod. The Doctor glances at Steve's file again. "What did your father die of?"

"Mustard gas." Steve replied immediately. He had his story straightened out by now. He'd told it so many times, he wouldn't miss a beat when questions were asked. "He was in the 107 Infantry. I was hoping I could be assigned.." The Doctor didn't let him finish.

"Your mother?" The Doctor continues.

"She was a nurse. In a TB ward. Got hit. Couldn't shake it." The Doctor looked down at all of Steve's medical hardships.

Asthma

Scarlett Fever

Rheumatic Fever

Sinusitis

Chronic or frequent colds

High Blood Pressure

Palpitation or pounding in heart

Easy fatigabillity

Heart trouble

Nervous trouble of any sort

Has had household contact with tuberculosis

Parent/sibling with diabetes

Steve didn't see any of this as a problem. If he was willing and ready to fight and die for his country then he should be allowed to do so. He shouldn't sit on the sidelines and collect scrape metal. He wanted to be out in the field. In the line of duty. He wanted to matter. Willow didn't share his view.

----

"Steve you've got to stop doing this!" Willow pleaded with her big wide eyes after meeting him for lunch after, yet again, being rejected from the army, a month previously. "They're going to catch you for fraud and send you to prison!" She said lowly grabbing Steve's hand on the table. Steve looked down at their hands. It still made him a little bit giddy whenever she touched him but he'd gotten better at not showing it. She had her dark brown hair neatly pulled back into a tight braid. While women nowadays were cutting off their locks and keeping their hair tucked up in hats, Willow had kept her long, straight hair and always pulled it back out of her face and down her back.

"Then I'll get sent to prison." Steve replied evenly. Willow gave him a pained expression and sighed, shaking her head and bringing her hand back to the cup on the table. Why couldn't he see reason? Why did he want to go off and fight in the war? There were plenty of other men going. Why did Steve have to go too?

"Please Steve. Bucky is already headed out. I have enough to worry about with him going overseas. I won't be able to cope with both of you gone." Willow says earnestly trying to catch his eye, but Steve is sulking, staring at the table.

"You wouldn't say that if the roles were reversed." Steve muttered. He had noticed over the years that Bucky and Willow were a little closer than he would like them to be. Bucky knew, of course, how he felt about Willow and assured Steve over and over that they were nothing but friends but he couldn't help but think and wonder.

Willow and Bucky were alike in many ways. Both of them were the center of attention whether they wanted to be or not. Steve knew Willow and Bucky were both attractive and often people would ask if the two of them were together. To which they would both look at each other and burst out laughing and start joking about how they would never date each other, ever, under any circumstances. Nobody ever did that with Willow and him. They always assumed he was a younger or older brother or perhaps a cousin.

"I would tell this to Bucky if the roles were reversed Steve. I worry about the both of you. I love both of you." Willow insists. "What makes you think I wouldn't tell Bucky the same thing?" Willow demands lightly eyes narrowing at Steve's minor accusation. Steve shrugs.

"Everyone thinks I'm weak because of my size. They're not any better than me. I hate being looked down upon." Steve tells her. Willow rolls her eyes.

"I don't look down on you and it doesn't matter what everyone thinks of you. What matters is what you think of yourself. Is that what this is? Your trying to prove something to someone?" Willow questions softly.

"I'm not... I just..." Steve pauses. "I don't know what I'm trying to do. I just want to help. If I want to fight they should allow me to fight." Steve tells her, rubbing his temple tiredly. Willow gives him a small smile.

"I wish you didn't want that." She murmurs. Steve wants to know what she means but the look on her face Steve knows well. She doesn't want him to ask about it.

Willow meanwhile is thinking about Steve lying dead on the battlefield somewhere in Europe alongside Bucky. The thought is too much to bare. Her heart literally aches thinking about it. The three of them are all they have left.

Steve's parents died when he was young, Bucky only had his mother who passed not too long ago and Willow's mother abandoned her after her father died when she was a teenager. Willow has no idea where she went. She's been living with an aunt ever since.

Willow has never said it out loud but theres another reason she doesn't want Steve to leave. Willow thinks she might just be in love with him. She always has been.

----

"Sorry son." The Doctor at the podium says brining Steve from his thoughts.

"Well can you just give me a chance..." Steve was interrupted.

"You'd be ineligible on your asthma alone." The Doctor clarifies. Steve sighs and lowly asks

"Isn't there anything you could do?" The Doctor smirks.

"I'm doing it. I'm saving your life." With that air of finality he stamps a giant F on Steve's papers. How many times had Steve seen this? "Next!"