Steve watched from his perch on the stoop as Bucky went up to bat, holding the stick sure in his little hands as the older boy smirked and pitched the ball at him harder than necessary. But it didn’t deter Bucky and he swung with everything he had, the ball hitting the stick with a crack and soaring over the taller boys in the infield.

Steve smiled as his friend made it to the trashcan lid that stood for first base and the older boys on the opposing team grumbled. The bases were officially loaded and there was no one left to bat.

“Who’s up ta bat next? ‘Ey Bucky what about your little friend?”

Steve flushed as the players turned their gazes on him, he could practically see the gleam in their eyes at the though of how easy it would be to strike him out. It was a miracle that his mother had let him out in this heat, normally his asthma kept him indoors and away from the street smog, but she would have a heart attack if she knew he even attempted playing stickball on a day like this.

“Nah, Steve don’t play stickball Billy, you know that.”

“Well you don’t have anyone to bat for ya’. Guess you’ll have to forfeit.”

“I wanna play.”

Steve looked on as a little girl that was barely his size walked confidently up to bat. She was dressed in patched up trousers and a ratty old shirt, her hair done into two messy blonde pigtails as she cocked a hip and stared at the boy pitching.

“You’re a girl, girls don’t play stickball. Go play with your babydolls.”

Nine year old Steve Rogers was thoroughly impressed as she glared at the boy with the ball and bent over to pick up the stick, casually throwing it over her shoulder and looking at him with distain.

“What’s wrong, scared you’ll be beat by a girl? Scaredy cat!”

Steve’s gaze flicked back to Billy’s, the older boy scowled at the little girl but nodded, not backing away from a challenge.

“What’d think Barnes, wanna lose to us with a girl on your team?”

Bucky shrugged and nodded his head.

“I don’t care Billy, still gonna smoke ya.”

“Fine, but I aint goin’ easy on ya just cause you’re a girl.”

She gave him a smile and took a couple practice swings.

“Just don’t be mad when I hit a homer.”

The boys in the outfield laughed and called her a shrimp, egging Billy on to strike her out and be done with it. She didn’t swing at the first pitch, which was wildly outside of the strike zone, and she stuck her tongue out at them when they called it a strike.

She swung at the second pitch and Steve’s mouth dropped open in awe as the ball went soaring over all of the outfielders, rolling down the street as a player took chase after it. He watched as Bucky took off, easily rounding second and third before crossing home plate after the other two runners with a shout. By now the girl had rounded third just as the ball was getting thrown to the catcher and Steve smiled as she slid into home just seconds before the catcher caught the ball, scoring a run and putting Bucky’s team ahead by one with her grand slam.

Bucky pulled her up off of the concrete, whooping in victory as he high fived her, the rest of his team giving their congrats just as the yard whistle blew, signaling the end of a work shift and everyone’s time to start heading home. Steve laughed as Bucky chirped at the older boys, rubbing it in their faces that they got beat by a girl as Bucky threw his small arm around her shoulders and led her over to where Steve was still sitting.

“Man Stevie did you see that! Grand slam like that will shut Billy up for a week! Where’d you learn to play like that?”

“My pa used to take me to Dodgers games, paid attention a lot I guess.”

“I’m Bucky Barnes and this is Steve Rogers, we’re best friends. What’s your name?”

“I’m Margaret O’Sullivan, but everyone calls me Maggie.”

Steve was taking in her unusual pants and shirt combination when he saw the rip in the leg, blood soaking through the fabric from where she slid into home on the pavement.

“That looks like it hurts?”

She looked down and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Aw shoot, I didn’t even realize that was there. Man, pa’s gonna kill me when he sees these pants.”

The last part of the sentence was muttered under her breath but Steve picked it up, and for being nine years old he was unbelievably perceptive. He watched as fear flickered across her face at the mention of her pa and he panicked, his mouth opening before he could help it.

“You know, my ma’s a nurse, she could probably bandage you up if ya want. Pretty good with her sewing too, might be able to patch those pants up too.”

Maggie looked at him like his offer was her saving grace but she was hesitant to accept. Bucky made the decision for her when he threw an arm around her shoulder, nodding and dragging her along with them.

“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard from ya Steve. It’s settled then, Maggie O’Sullivan you’re comin’ home with us.”

~~~


After Maggie had left it seemed to Steve that his life was slowly unraveling. Another 4F stamp and another bigmouth talking during the war segment had Bucky pulling his sorry ass out of the gutter for the umpteenth time, only this time he was dressed in his pressed uniform. He felt entirely guilty at the anger he felt towards his friend, that he’d be leaving Steve alone to rot in Brooklyn, helpless to the war effort.

And then after yet another failed double date Steve had met Erskine and he had worked a miracle.
It had taken Steve a long time to get used to his new body, and even after months of parading around in tights and holding up chorus girls by the half dozen with nothing but a hand, he still pictured himself as sickly little Steve Rogers. He had thought he would get used to it, but he just ended up trying to avoid mirrors, which proved to be difficult backstage of a show that had upwards of thirty USO girls primping at any given time.

They had just finished doing a show in Buffalo when he had finally gotten the telegram. It wasn’t uncommon for his mail to get to him weeks after it was supposed to and even then some of it got tossed with the fan mail and he never saw it. He hadn’t thought anything of the Western Union stamp on it, telegrams to him were as common as anything, especially with the way he traveled, and so he was only partially scanning the small piece of paper when it hit him, his heart lodging itself firmly in his throat as he begged his eyes to change the words that were on the paper in front of him.

The Secretary of War desires me to express his deep regret that Miss Margaret Katherine O’Sullivan Private First Class SSR has been missing in action since sixteen August over Germany. If further details or other information are received you will be promptly notified.

Witsell Acting the Adjutant General.

Steve reread the letter again, and again, he closed his eyes and begged himself to wake up, but the words kept taunting him, mocking him from the flimsy paper they were hastily typed on to. His hand shook as it clutched the small piece of parchment, the other coming up to cover his mouth while he tried to breathe deeply though his nose, his eyes clenching shut as he shook his head, his mind still refusing to believe what he was seeing.

She couldn’t be…

Steve let out a roar and let the fist that held the telegram fly, sending it through the wall to his right and paying no mind to the slight pain that shot through his hand, it was nothing compared to the shattering of his heart.

Notes

It's a short one but a necessary one, next one will be longer! Reviews/ratings are always, always welcome! Big shout out to those of you who reviewed and/or rated this story it means so much and keeps me writing!