A/N: I own nothing. I just really love Captain America. I Was inspired by the 2007 remake of the movie Sybil And the show United States Of Tara. The "Realization" Part was modeled after Sybil. It was too fun to write. I hope you guys like it!
Steve Rogers considered himself to be pretty normal. He was part of the team known as the Avengers, but still did normal activities. He liked to sketch and draw. He fed the homeless when he saw them on the street. He worked in soup kitchens on sundays. Simply put, he lived a meek existence.
He also lived with a dark secret.
He'd been called the "Man Out Of Time", but no one knew how relevant and accurate that was. For his entire life he'd been losing seconds, minutes, hours, and even months of time. He'd never told anyone about it. Now, it was beginning again.
He'd been seeing the SHIELD psychologist for a few weeks. He hadn't told the man about his blackouts yet, considering nothing had occurred yet. Now, he had to tell. He felt nerves creep up his neck and radiate into his shoulders and stomach. Never in his life had he felt so bare. He tried so desperately to cover it up, but now it was going to be revealed. He took a shaking breath and opened the door. Doctor Holden smiled at him, with dark hair and a smile that would have made any Miss America feel threatened.
"Steve, how are you?"
Steve shook his hand and put on a smile. "I'm alright."
Doctor Holden could tell something was on his mind.
Steve sat in the chair as usual and played with the cuff on his sleeve.
"Is something bothering you, Steve?"
Steve nodded. "For a long time now."
"What is it?"
"I lose time." He said.
"What do you mean."
"Seconds, minutes, hours, weeks, months... All gone in an instant."
"How long has this been going on?" He asked, jotting short sentences on his notepad.
"Ever since I can remember."
"Even before the serum?"
Steve nodded. "Long time before." He was rapidly turning the cuff of his sleeve inside and out repeatedly.
"What happens when you lose time?" The doctor questioned.
"I don't know. I never know. All these blank spots in my memory... I don't even remember the transformation. It's all a hole." Without warning he stood up and went over to the window.
"I hate them." The voice was not that of Steve Rogers, the quiet, meek man behind the mask of Captain America. This voice was higher pitched, like it belonged to a little boy. His body seemed to have shrunken in on itself, making him seem small.
"Who do you hate, Steve?" Asked the Doctor, confused.
"The people." He said simply, not turning away from the view of the New York skyline.
"What people?"
"All the people. The ones who never do things or say things when they should." The voice was rising in pitch. "They never go to help. Nobody helps. Nobody cares. They never did, never! I'm gonna get out of here- I have to get out! There has to be a way out!" By the end he was nearly screaming as he punched a hole through the window. Doctor Holden quickly got up and ushered him away from the window.
"Are you alright?" He asked, examining his patients hand.
"You're asking about me?" He said in disbelief.
The doctor frowned. "Of course I am."
"You don't care about what I did?" The voice asked in shock.
"We're a secret agency, Steve. Windows don't cost that much to replace."
Steve suddenly turned furious and backed away, angry tears streaming down his cheeks. "That's all I ever hear about is money! Money, money, money, never enough money! All I am is people's money! I don't matter to people as long as they get what they want. Everybody uses me, just like they do Steve!" Suddenly the voice stopped and quickly corrected, "like they use me."
The good doctor was frozen. Out of all the possible things he could have diagnosed, he never expected this. He regained himself and took a step forward.
"Who are you?" He asked, directly.
"Steve." He said, matter-of-factly.
"No you're not. Who are you, really?" He asked. The boy looked at him astonished.
"Y-You can tell the difference?" He asked, walking a little closer to the psychiatrist.
"You bet I can." He said, putting a reassuring smile on his face. "May I know your name?"
The boy hesitated before saying: "I'm Sam. Sam Johnson." The psychiatrist was quiet a moment.
"How old are you, Sam?"
"Five."
The doctor wrote it down. "What do you like to do?"
"I finger paint. I don't like sketching cause I'm not as good as the others."
"Others? What others?"
"Can't tell," The boy said, becoming almost hysterical again. "I can't never tell nobody. Never, never, never!" He said, almost hyperventilating.
"That's okay." He reassured. "I just wanted to know. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."
Sam nodded quietly.
"Can I ask you a question?" He asked the boy. He received another nod.
"Are you and Steve related at all?"
When the boy didn't speak he continued on, "Are you brothers, cousins, step-family? Do you have the same Father or-?" But before he could continue the boy's face shot up like a rocket and contorted with tears.
"No, no, no! He's not my father." The tears streaked his face.
"Alright, alright. I'm sorry. I just wanted to know."
He gave the boy a few moments to calm down, and then asked, "Could I speak to Steve?"
The boy looked at him for a few moments before his eyes shut, then reopened.
"Steve?"
"Dr. Holden?" He asked in surprise before looking around the room. He saw small shards of broken glass on the floor and noticed the broken window.
"What happened?" He asked anxiously. "Did I do that?"
"You blacked out." He said simply.
"I'm so sorry, really I am. I'll clean it up and pay for it if-"
"That's quite alright, Steve, you don't need to worry about it." He let his words set in before asking, "Have you done this before?"
"All the time. Things get broken but I can never remember how."
"That's okay." He reassured.
"No, it's not. I'm not. Why is this happening?" He asked, looking helpless.
"I don't know." He said, looking Steve in the eye, "But we'll figure it out." There was a hard determination in the doctor's eyes as he said it. After Steve had left for the day, Doctor Holden spent the rest of the day researching everything he could find on Dissociative Identity Disorder.
Of one thing he was certain- Steve Rogers had multiple personalities.