Inseparable

A new reason to fight

On the way home Bucky couldn't stop thinking about Steve. A small boy who could have been seriously injured, but still stepped up to help another.
Yet he had seen this occur for weeks and did nothing. Was he a coward? He never liked fighting. He usually avoided it because it brought out a side of him he didn't like. A dark side that came to be because of his pain. A vulnerability that he hid behind anger and his fists when he'd rather break down and cry. But he couldn't. He had to be strong. He hadn't fought in years, he didn't have to after surrendering to his bullies and ignoring the taunts. It started when his mom died a few days after his birthday. He was only 8.

March 1925:
The whole day was a blur of weeping faces and comforting hands. It was a murmur of voices telling him everything would be alright even though he knew it wouldn't be the same without his mama. Winnifred Barnes was loved by almost all of Brooklyn and the tears he shed that day were many. However, he didn't shed more than one at a time, afraid that once he started he couldn't stop. People muttered to themselves what a shame it was that she left behind four children, him being the eldest. Becca was 5 years younger than him, Frances was two, and little Mary was just a year old. They were watched by Mrs. Samson, the wife of his father's best friend, leaving only him and his father to grieve at her grave. When they got home, Bucky tucked his siblings into bed, standing guard at Becca's door. He waited for his father to say his goodbyes. Picking up a family photo, he gazed at his mother, a smile on her face. He felt numb inside.

"James?" He hurriedly put the photo down and shushed his father as he approached."Shhh... She just fell asleep." Putting a hand on his son's shoulder George sighed, "You should try to rest, too, son. It's been a long day." Bucky looked up into his father's face, emotions swelling in his chest as tears welled in his eyes. He said, "Dad...I..." His father cut him off, bowing his head. "I know James. I miss your mom too, but you have to stay strong. For your sister." They peer at her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful. So clueless. "Becca needs you more now than ever."

So that's what he did. He put on a brave face, a mask for what hid behind it, a fearful lonely little boy. But that burden wasn't easy for him to carry and so the fights started.

"Kick 'em!" "Hit 'em!"

The cheers came as the bully on the school grounds and Bucky fought for the innumerable time that week. Bucky was tired of pretending to be strong and happy, because underneath he was angry at the whole damn world. And when Frankie insulted him and beat him up for being a goody to shoes he couldn't help but fight back. "Alright, break it up, you kids!" the teacher exclaimed. "Bucky started it!" Frankie shouted. "Did not tattle tale!" He shouted back. When he got home later, his father shook his head when he opened the door.

Bucky felt ashamed as his father unspokenly led him to the bathroom. He let him down, he knew that. Every time he got into trouble he disgraced Barnes's good name. After patching him up, his father looked at him with concern as Bucky looked the other way in embarrassment, his arms crossed in defense.

"Bucky...You have to stop it with the fighting."

Bucky sighed, "Yeah...I know. But Frankie said..."

"I don't care what he said. You're better than this." He reached out and brushed some dirt from his cheek. "Now I want you to promise me there'll be no more of this." Bucky bit his lip to avoid crying, "Okay...I promise."

Back to 1930:
Bucky kept this promise, until today. For some reason, he didn't feel that darkness when helping Steve. He felt good. Maybe that was it. Before he fought for selfish reasons, to hurt others. But this time it was to help another. Bucky hadn't felt happy about himself in years but somehow this strange kid made him feel like a better person. And because of this, he couldn't wait to see Steve again.