Life As A House-Prologue
Present Day
Boston, MA
"Honey, you're going to be just fine."
"Mom..." Steve Rogers sighed as his mother stared at him with blue eyes that were tearing up yet again. He didn't know why he was surprised- all Sarah Rogers had been doing was crying in some way, shape, or form ever since he had returned to the States after his honorable discharge from the US Army, due to the gunshot wounds that had nearly caused him to bleed out in the desert sands of Iraq. He had had the option of re-enlisting in the Army, doing something mundane, such as becoming a recruiter, or to be honorably discharged. The decision had been a no-brainer for Steve. Being in the army had nearly cost him his life, and now that he was nearly done recovering from multiple surgeries to repair the internal organs the bullets of the enemy's gun had damaged, he realized just how close of a call he'd had. This realization had made him want to put as much distance as possible between himself and the military, even though the soldier in him still questioned if he had made the right choice.
It had been three weeks since he had opened his eyes groggily, vision blurry as he tried to make out where the hell he was, struggling to remember who he was. The last thing he could recall was being in excruciating pain, crying hopelessly on the burning sand under the blistering sun, pressing his hands to his side in a desperate attempt to staunch the the blood that was flowing heavily through his fingers, no matter how hard tried to stop it.
The next thing he knew, he was blinking to clear his vision and the first thing he saw, as he discovered he was in a hospital room of some sort, was his mother hunched over him. Sarah Rogers' face had been ashen and tear-streaked, and he swore to God that she looked ten years older than she had merely months before, when he had been home on leave for the holidays. He had reached up and and gently squeezed the hand she'd been using to stroke his hair, and her face had gone through a roller coaster of emotions before she had burst into happy tears, frantically pushing the call button on the hospital bed to alert the nurses that he was awake.
After enduring a barrage of medical scans, X-rays, blood work, and an extremely extensive psychiatric evaluation, his doctor had delivered the news that he would make a full recovery...physically. However, since he had no memories of the days and weeks that had led out to him almost bleeding to death in Iraq, his doctor was very blunt and forthcoming about the high possibility of depression and PTSD, not to mention about a dozen other mental maladies common to traumatized soldiers, setting in as these memories returned to him. To be honest, Steve hadn't been concerned-after all, none of his other soldier memories were causing him any issues. However, he graciously and gratefully accepted the thick stack of brochures, smiling as he did so. He was just ready to go home.
Today was the day he went home-home as in his own house, and not his parents', as his mother had hoped, which was he reason she was crying this time. Needless to say, Sarah had not been thrilled when his best friend, and fellow soldier, James Barnes, had contacted him in the hospital, and suggested the idea of he and Steve getting a place together. James had also recently been honorably discharged due to injuries during combat...which meant that he was also coming home. With no living family of his own, it was understandable that he wouldn't want to ease back into civilian life alone. James had been a lifelong friend, and they did everything together, as kids, teens, and even adults, as they enlisted in the Army together immediately following their high school graduation. They had ended up in different areas in Iraq, but had always remained in touch, checking in often to make sure they were both still alive.
So, the two friends had done some house hunting via the internet, as they were both hospitalized in different locations, and after a few days of looking, and many phone and Skype conversations, they had settled on that was perfect, although a bit large for two bachelors. In between discussions about loans and which bills should be put in each of their names, Steve attempted to tactfully broach the subject of James' injuries, but his friend divulged nothing. Any time he tried to ask, James shut him down, hastily changing the topic, and in a few instances when Steve couldn't be deterred, abruptly disconnected calls. So, while Steve was thrilled to be buying his own place, he couldn't help but be apprehensive, wondering just what he was going to find when he and James found themselves face to face again. He was truly beginning to think that he was going to either find his best friend wheelchair bound, hideously disfigured, or (God forbid) both.
The realtor and bank had both been very accommodating to both soldiers, and all required paperwork hand been hand-delivered to their respective hospitals, where both Steve and James signed what felt like a billion pages, making the house theirs. Steve would never forget the look on his mother's face when the realtor and banker had mistakenly congratulated him on his new house purchase with his 'partner'. He hadn't known if he'd wanted to laugh or cry as he assured his mother that, no, he was not gay. And no, he and James were not a couple. For fuck's sake. He may have been missing some of his memories, but he very, very clearly remembered his sexual orientation, thank you very much.
Steve had been released from the hospital today, and his mother was currently driving him to his new house, where James was waiting, as he had gotten out of his hospital prison a few days before. Steve's father, Joe, had spent a lot of time at the house that week, moving in all of his belongings, and assisting James with his as well. Also, Joe had done some minor home repairs, wanting his son, and the man who was like his son, to not have to worry about anything unnecessary as they both continued to heal. And now, as his mom pulled into the winding driveway and parked, he was home. After five grueling years spent serving his country, he was home.
He had no clue what awaited him inside. He had no clue his injured James was. He had no clue what he was going to do for work. He had no clue if his other friends knew he was home. He had no clue why his sister, Saylor, hadn't called or visited. He had no clue what the fuck he was doing in any aspect of his life right now. All he knew was that he had this house, his family, and he was alive when he should have probably been dead.
He turned to his mom as he unbuckled his seatbelt, pulling her into a hug. "You're right, Ma. I'm going I'm going to be just fine."