It Wasn't Your Fault

Flashback

March 8, 1932

Steve rubbed his dirty sleeve over his face as he walked home from school, trying to hide his tears. He felt...used. Disgusting. Filthy. Nobody would believe him if he told them what happened. Especially an adult. They would say it was no big deal. That he was...lucky.

"Steve!" he heard from behind him, his heart falling into his stomach. He couldn't hide anything from Bucky. He was too observant. He could try, though. He hurried into a side alley, hoping he wouldn't be followed. No such luck. The footsteps of his best friend pounded up behind him and a hand grabbed his elbow, spinning him around.

"Steve, I was calling...what the hell happened to you?" Bucky asked, seeing his shirt buttons missing and his pants in a disarray. He gave the smaller boy a quick once over, seeing him flinch and pull away.

"N-Nothing, I'm fine," Steve stuttered, panic in his eyes. Bucky frowned and placed his hands on his shoulders, feeling him tense up and begin trembling. His face fell, shock taking over.

"Steve," he breathed.

He gently, slowly, pulled him into a hug, a hand on the back of his head while his other arm went around his shoulders. He felt Steve's trembling arms squeeze him tightly around his waist, his nose and mouth pressed into Bucky's shoulder.

"Who?" Steve shook his head, biting back a sob. Bucky sighed and rubbed his back. He looked around, seeing more students and adults passing them outside the alley. He needed to get Steve home. He knew Mrs. Sarah was out looking for work day and night, so they would be alone to talk freely. "Come on, let's go home."

Ten minutes later, they were walking through Steve's front door, Bucky helping him turn the key. Steve paced around the small living room, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck while Bucky got him a glass of water. The older teen came back and led him to the couch, sitting with his arm around his shoulder and handing him the glass. Steve drank it slowly, trying to avoid the conversation as long as possible. Bucky rolled his eyes, seeing him now pretending to drink, and took the half-empty glass from him, setting it on the worn coffee table.

"Steve, talk to me. What's going on?" Bucky pressed. Steve kept his gaze on the floor, shaking his head again. Bucky leaned his head down and looked at the side of the hurt teenager's face. "You can tell me, pal. Nobody here is gonna judge you. Nothing is your fault."

Steve looked up at him with tears in his eyes, desperation bleeding out of the pools of blue. Confusion. Fear. No, terror.

"How would you know?" he asked without any heat. Bucky didn't miss a beat.

"Because it wasn't Dot's fault," he replied confidently, but darkly. Steve gasped. He'd had no clue. But he could feel the weight so ready to slide off his shoulders at that. If he could just say it...

"I...Mrs. Thomas...I think she...raped me." The last words were barely above a whisper as Steve looked at the worn carpet beneath their feet.

Bucky's face contorted in poorly-concealed anger just as Steve looked up at him, curious as to his silence. When he saw Bucky's reaction, he knew it was a mistake to tell anyone. He didn't believe him. He was disgusted. He was mad. Steve began hyperventilating, trying to get away from Bucky's hold. Sympathy and guilt immediately took over Bucky, knowing exactly what Steve was thinking.

"Oh God, Steve, no. It's okay, pal," Bucky said soothingly, pulling Steve to his chest. Steve's chest heaved against his own and he could feel his body temperature rising. "Stevie, you gotta calm down. Breathe with me. In...out...again...that's it. You're okay."

Steve sagged against Bucky, black at the edge of his vision. He continued following his breathing pattern until the hyperventilating stopped, but then burst into tears. The sobs broke violently from his mouth as he buried his face against Bucky's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Steve sobbed. Bucky rubbed his back and shook his head.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Steve. It wasn't your fault," he told him, pulling back and cupping his cheeks. "What happened?"

"Sh-She told me th-that I needed to stay af-after to talk about my...my math grade," Steve choked out, leaning his cheek into Bucky's right hand. Bucky nodded and stroked his cheek with his thumb, bringing his other hand up to card through Steve's hair.

"Okay, calm down. It's all right. Here, drink," he said, bringing the glass up to his lips for him and holding it while he drank the water. Setting it down, he folded his leg underneath himself and turned to face Steve completely, laying his right hand on his back and moving it up and down soothingly. Steve scrubbed his hand across his face and wrapped his arms around himself, leaning sideways into Bucky and relaxing a bit when he was squeezed with one arm.

"She shut the door, and told me to sit in my chair. She brought me my last math test, but it was perfect. When I asked her what the problem was...she had taken her shirt off." Steve sat up, his breathing shaky again as he looked desperately at his friend. "I tried to leave, but she wouldn't let me. I swear, Bucky. I tried."

"I believe you, Steve. I know you're telling the truth," Bucky encouraged, putting his hand on the back of Steve's head. That woman could have easily overpowered Steve. She was just shy of six feet tall and very strong. Steve wouldn't have stood a chance. Steve took a deep breath before settling in against Bucky's chest again.

"I told her that I had to go, but she locked the door and pulled the shade. She...she sat on my lap and held me down while she took my belt off. I tried to push her off, but she was too strong." Steve closed his eyes, sighing at Bucky's hand in his hair. "She said her husband was always gone trying to sell vegetables from their farm and that...she needed a...man's touch. She tied my hands to the chair with my belt and...made me..."

"That's okay. I get it." Bucky held him protectively, pressing his cheek to his forehead.

"She...put me inside of her and...I told her to stop. I begged her. I didn't want it, Bucky!" Steve lost it. He couldn't stop the sobs. He couldn't keep himself upright as his head slid down to Bucky's lap, curling into a fetal position. Bucky's heart broke and he bit back his own tears as he slid his left arm under his neck and his right under Steve's, feeling him reach up to grasp his hands on his chest. He pressed his left cheek to Steve's right and held him, rocking them gently.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry she took that from you. It's gonna be okay, though. I promise, everything's gonna be all right." Steve's sobs tore right through him and he could do nothing to stop himself from weeping against the back of Steve's shoulder. This wasn't about him, though. He looked up and took a sharp breath to gather his composure. "Shh, I've got you, Stevie. I'm here. I'm right here, yeah?"

Steve nodded, letting out a keen and squeezed Bucky's hands as hard as he could to try and control himself, but he just couldn't. He was so ashamed and embarrassed. He just wanted to crawl into a hole. But Bucky wasn't leaving him. He was...touching him. Holding him. Maybe...maybe he would get through this.