Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or any of the characters. The rights belong to Marvel. I just own this story. This story is loosely based off the song "Letters from War" by Mark Schultz. I hope you guys enjoy the story. Thank you. :)

It was another hot, summer day in Brooklyn as she headed home. It had been a long work day and she was looking forward to finally coming back home. Though going home was not the same as it had been in the past. The War had finally reached the United States. Men had enlisted or had been drafted then sent off to war, making her Brooklyn neighborhood a rather lonely place. Of course, she was doing her part in the war effort. She was determined to help in any way she could. After all, it was her own son out there fighting with the other men from their small neighborhood. Her heart couldn't help but swell with pride at the thought of her son as she reached her house. Her son had finally made it into the army. It had been a wish of his for many years. No, her son did not approve of fighting or anything like that. He hated bullies. He wanted to join the army and fight for the freedoms his father had fought for. He wanted to fulfill his duty to his country, and now he finally could accomplish his wish. She couldn't be more proud of him.

A small tugged at her lips as she arrived at her house. It looked like there would be some mail to sort through, not that she really minded. Letters brightened her lonely world. She gasped softly, stopping her sorting of the letters. In the midst of all her mail was a letter from her son. Her hands trembled slightly as she carefully tore it open. A letter… from her son. Some news from him at last!

Dear Mom,

Training has been rather hard, but I understand that things will be harder once we get into the war. The weather has been rather nice, surprisingly. It makes training a bit more bearable. I have met several guys here that are from New York. I've also met a few Brits and one Frenchman. I've made good friends with my bunkmate James Buchanan Barnes. He prefers to be called 'Bucky' though. Call him James and you'll be asking for it. I'm sure you can guess I learned that pretty fast. I hope that when the war is over, I can introduce you to him. He's been a great friend over the past couple of weeks. I'm sure you would like him a lot. I've also become friends with some of the other guys in my group. They are all great guys that I'm grateful for and proud to be fighting alongside. I'm sure Dad would be proud of what we're doing here. I've been thinking about him a lot since I've made it into the Army. He fought hard for us. That's why I'm able to be here fighting today, Mom. I'm fighting for you.

Stay safe and don't let Biscuits dig up in the garden while I'm gone.

Love, Steve Rogers.

A smile tugged softly at her lips as she refolded the letter. It was good to finally hear from her son. She knew that the men and boys at war wouldn't always be able to write, so it was a real treat when they did. She was sure that they would feel the same way.

Steve would love a letter from her so was exactly what she was going to send him. She hurried to find some paper and a pen and set herself a little area at the kitchen table to write. She pursed her lips as she stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of her. She wasn't sure what she should write to her son. She had so many things she wanted to say to him… but the words just were not getting onto the paper.

She smiled as it dawned on her. She knew just what to write.

Dear Steve,

You're such a good boy. I am very proud of the man you have become. You are brave and kind. I know you are doing something your father would be so very proud of. I am glad to hear that you have found some friends in the army. This "Bucky" friend of yours sounds like a very interesting boy. I am looking forward to meeting him when you both return from war. I am so very proud of you, Steve. What a father that you will be one day. Make it home, Steve. Make it safe. I will have your favorite apple pie waiting for you and your friends when you return. I love you.

Love, Mom.

Her hands shook, but not from the cold December air as she made her way home from the post office. Tears and snowflakes dampened and stained the paper she had tightly grasped it in her hands. She couldn't move despite the desperate need to go inside and get warm… she was in shock from the letter she had just received.

Dear Mrs. Rogers,

I was up on hill… out there all alone. It was rather frightening to be honest, Mrs. Rogers. Shots were ringing all around. I never felt so close to death. Bombs were exploding left and right. I got captured and was taken behind enemy lines and kept at the enemies' war camp. I went through all sorts of interrogations and torture that I will not mention for your sake, Mrs. Rogers. I had just lost all hope when suddenly I saw him. He came back through enemy lines for me. The punk (pardon my language, Mrs. Rogers) risked his life and disobeyed orders to come rescue me. He got captured in the process… but that crazy but brave man set me free. And that man was your son. He asked me to write to you. I told him I would… I swore. I'm not very good at these things, but I'd do anything for a guy like Steve. He's been a great friend, a great soldier. I am lucky to be alive today because of him.

Sincerely, Sergeant Bucky Barnes.

She clutched the letter tightly against her chest before she finally entered the house. Her hand fumbled with the light switches as she made her way to her kitchen table. Sitting on the table was a small stack of paper and envelopes. She had never cleared it up, for she often wrote to Steve even when he had not sent any letters back yet. She wanted to bring whatever encouragement to him that she could, so she had her little writing area always ready.

And now, here she was. Ready to write a letter that he would most likely never receive. Tears continued to fall down her cheeks, but she knew she must write despite all the odds.

Dear Steve,

You are good and you are brave… I can only imagine what a father that you will be one day. Make it home, Steve. Make it safe. I will always be waiting for you.

Love, Mom.

Months passed with no new word about her son. She knew the chances of Steve returning were slim, but she believed that one day her son would return. She continued to pray for his safety, and every night… she would write to him even though she knew he would most likely never receive her letters.

Dear Steve,

You are such a good boy, Steve. I am so proud of what you've done and what you are fighting for. You are so very brave, risking your life for your friends. I am so very proud of you and I am sure your father would feel the same way. I know you will make a wonderful father one day. Make it home, Steve. Make it safe… I love you, Steve. Please come home.

Love, Mom.

She smiled sadly as she sealed the envelope. This would probably be the last letter she would send, but maybe, just maybe this letter would reach her son.

Several years had passed since she last heard from her son. She no longer wrote, for the war was now over. Letters really were quite pointless now. But she still prayed for Steve. She still prayed for his safe return and believed it was still possible. He would come home safe and sound.

Her neighbors just shook their heads sadly as they watched her. The heartbreak was too much for her, they would say. It was useless to watch for someone who would never return. They all thought this, but none of them had the heart to tell her. Just let her be. This was just a way of coping with her loss. Many had lost loved ones, and had their own ways of coping. Hers just happened to be waiting for her son's return. One day should realize, they would tell themselves, that her son was never coming back.

She was raking leaves quietly, not really paying any attention to any of the cars passing by. She didn't even notice the car pulling up into her small driveway until Biscuits let out a few sharp barks. Her eyes widened as a young man stepped out of the car and onto the driveway. He was dressed in an army uniform. Her heart faltered some, fearing the worst, but somehow there was something strangely familiar about the man. She fell to her knees. This couldn't possibly be… standing in front of her, a captain of the army? Her son?

The captain saluted to her.

"Just following orders, Mrs. Rogers."

She looked up at him with a confused look.

The young captain smiled and pulled out a tightly bound stack of worn-out letters from his coat pocket. "From all of your letters, and I've come home again."

He knelt down beside her and embraced her.

"I'm home, Mom," he whispered softly in her ear. "I've made it home and safe."