oblivion. ▷ captain america. [1] •••DISCONTINUED•••

iv ▷ the man called sergeant barnes.

F O U R

04. | the man called sergeant barnes.
starting his own journey

genevieve.

•

I HAVEN'T been able to sleep since Abraham died. He's one of the only people that has kept me going for all these years, and not even Peggy has given me the same hope as he did. He gave me the pride in being a woman in my career, and that career being a scientist despite my rank in the army. Even now, women are still seen as just housewives, which makes no sense since we are running towns while the men are out on the battlefront. But Abraham told me that I could grow up to be more than that.

After I met him two years ago, it has felt like I've know him my whole life. He's been my father-figure, considering the fact that I barely remember my father. He was one of the best people I've ever known, and he's gone.

Steve has told me over and over again that it wasn't either of our faults. In fact, it was no one's fault except the Hydra man, even though Colonel keeps shouting that someone caused this by letting him in. Steve has been coming over to my bunker while Peggy is off doing something or other and we just talk. It's so interesting to hear things from his perspective. My mind is either all over the place or on one fixated thing, and usually I'm a scattered and disorganized mess, a perfect representation of my brain. So hearing him and his thoughts on the matter really make me feel better, as well as his clumsiness in his newly genetically altered body.

Colonel said that we're taking the fight to Hydra, but Steve must stay back as he was giving blood to be tested (they want to try and redevelop the serum). After he spit to Steve that he was just an experiment, he ordered me to watch after him. I just clenched my jaw and went along with it. If I can't go to fight, I definitely don't mind staying with Steve.

Steve was telling me that the senator told him that he was "promoted" to do something for the war effort, but the poor guy doesn't know what that means.

We now stand backstage somewhere, where Steve is being dolled up in a red, white, and blue costume.

"I don't know if I can do this," Steve sighs.

"Nothing to it. Just sell a few bonds, bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazis. Bing, bang, boom," the man next to him says quietly. "You're an American hero."

"It's just not how I pictured getting there," Steve replies. He's really pissed, but he knows that this is the only way he was going to help the war.

"The senator's got a lotta pull up on the hill," the man says. "You play ball with us, you'll be leading your own platoon in no time.

Music comes from behind the other side of the curtain, signaling Steve to go out. I quickly hand him the shield that was designed for all of this, giving him a curt nod before he leaves.

"You'll do great," I whisper to him. "The lines are on the inside of the shield."

He nods, disappearing on to the opposite side of the red curtains. Once he comes back, he's a shaking and nervous mess.

This goes on for weeks. A new city each night, the girls singing their little song as Steve promotes war bonds without having to glance down at his script anymore as he can now cite it from memory, him punching a man dressed as Hitler over and over again, and Steve taking photos with people after the show ends. There are short films made about him, the "Star Spangled Man with a Plan" or "Captain America," but he's still Steve to me. There are even comic books, but he's still good old Steven Rogers. The shows gain more and more publicity, forcing us to travel to big cities and for everyone to perform on intricate sets. This causes more stress for Steve to the point where he just wants to face plant into his pillow when we return to our tent.