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Becca Barnes lived in a modest home on the outskirts of New York City, she had been there since she had moved in with her late husband Jim Proctor. But now she lived with her first son James and his wife or twelve years, Sabrina. She was old and frail now, her bones creaked as she walked and her family would not let her live alone for fear of her now deteriorating health. She was not the last Barnes sibling left though, George liked to call every now and then to check on his elder sister and every year they would see each other at the Barnes family reunion held just outside of Indiana. Becca Barnes had lived a good life, she was at peace with her death should it come in seconds or years.
She liked to keep a journal with a picture of her brothers taped into it beside her bed. One blonde and the other brunette, she loved them dearly and still placed flowers over their empty graves every year as she did for Sarah Rogers who had been a second mother to both her and her blood brother. Her hands shook when she wrote but she could imagine the two of them grinning and laughing when they read her journal in heaven so she wrote without fail every day.
When the television showed a man in a star spangled uniform fighting aliens in New York she shook her head and lead her grandkids into a separate room to explain that the man on screen was not Captain America, the man that made Captain America who he was died for his country decades before. They were only eight and ten, they did not understand. By the time she returned to the room James had shut the television off and Sabrina had set up hot chocolate for everyone.
She refused to buy a newspaper. She did not want to see that imposter on the front page pretending to be her brother. Becca Barnes was adamant that Steve Rogers died in the Arctic and none of her family members questioned it.
Two weeks after the Battle for New York the doorbell rang. Steven raced to answer the door from where he had been watching cartoons, the Proctors didn’t get visitors that often as they lived on a winding dirt road an hour out of the city. Both his parents were at work and he was being watched by Grandma Becca but she was sleeping. He didn’t want to wake her up.
The man standing at the door was in a green suit, clean and cut with a few medals displayed on his chest. In his hand was a folded American flag and in the other was a single rose. His blue eyes and blonde hair shone in the morning sun. He crouched down to Steven’s eye level.
“Hello, I’m Steve, what’s your name?” He asked cheerfully.
“I’m Steven, why are you dressed so weird?” Steven replied. Steve’s eyes widened and tears picked the corners as he chuckled.
“Well Steven, I just came home from war and I wanted to look my best for a very special lady. Does Becca Barnes live here by chance?” He inquired, noting with grief how much the little boy resembled Bucky when they were young.
“One second I gotta go wake her up.” Steve smiled as the little boy raced off into the house. Only to reappear seconds later with an old woman, bent and frail behind him grumbling “Who the hell would I know still in the service?!” she focused on her feet as she shuffled her walker into the hall with a yawn. Only to raise her eyes after being directly in front of Steve just across the room. Her eyes went wide and tearful. One hand shakily rose to cover her mouth which barely contained a sob. She practically threw her walker to the side, finding the strength she no longer possessed to practically run to the man whom she had thought long dead, he met her with long strides halfway across the room. She fell into his arms as they stretched out to hold her. Her whole body heaved with sobs as his shoulders shook and he buried his head in the crook of her shoulder in her wispy grey hair.
When they had calmed he was the first to break the silence, he handed her the flag and the rose. “I’m sorry Becca, I’m so sorry, he would have come home had I not asked him to stay. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring him home to you all and I’m sorry it’s me here when it should be him.”
Becca looked up at him with still teary eyes. “It’s not your fault Bucky died Steve, it never was. I’m just happy one of my brothers came home from the war. I thought you were both dead, do you know how many times I prayed for just a body to bury? How many times I cursed god and asked why it had to be my brothers who didn’t come home?” Tears still spilled down her cheeks slowly as she ran her hand in soothing circle against Steve’s back. “It is an unbelievable blessing to have you here in front of me. Even though I wish Bucky was here I would never wish for one or the other between you both. You should know better Steven Grant.”
Little Steven looked up at them and asked “What do I need to know Grandma Becca?” At that Steve and Becca began to laugh.
“And who is he Grandma?” The eight year old boy asked.
Becca grabbed Steve’s shoulder. “This, my dear Steven, is your great uncle Steven Grant Rogers, your namesake, He fought in the Second World War with your great uncle Bucky. He is a very special person to me.”
The little boy’s eyes widened and his jaw fell open. He then promptly glommed onto Steve’s leg.
“I don’t think you’ll be getting rid of him from your leg anytime soon.” Becca chuckled.
“I wouldn’t want to anyways, when I woke up I was afraid everyone was gone, it’s nice to have a family again.” Steve replied and he promptly had two Proctors giving him hugs with vise-like grip.