I was listening to the Brave soundtrack and "A Mhaighdean Bhan Uasal" came on (that means Noble Maiden Fair), and my mind just got...carried away tbh.

Side note: let's pretend Civil War didn't happen and everyone is fucking happy okay thanks

Enjoy!

It had been a rough day for Steve Rogers.

First, he and Bucky had been roused out of bed at around four in the morning to deal with the newest villain trying to disrupt New York. The fight that ensued had left Steve with a piece of metal embedded in his chest, which was decidedly not fun. Luckily for him, the serum in his body kept him alive long enough for him to get to the nearest hospital. Sitting in the hospital bed, Steve was preparing for the inevitable lecture he'd be getting from his overprotective boyfriend, Bucky Barnes.

Well, at least he wasn't spitting blood anymore.

The door slammed open, and Steve fought the urge to wince. Bucky was standing there, a thunderous expression on his face. Walking into the room, he crossed his arms and sat down on the chair nearest Steve.

"I already know what you're gonna say Buck, and—"

"And what? I'm supposed to be okay with you tackling some asshole and getting a metal rod stuck in your chest?" Bucky snapped, glaring at Steve, "you almost died. If it wasn't for the serum, you'd be dead."

"If it wasn't for the serum, I'd still weigh a hundred pounds." Steve muttered, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean. You gotta stop doing this, Rogers. What the hell would I do if you died?" Bucky's voice seemed to crack slightly, and Steve sighed.

"But I didn't, Buck. I'm right here." Steve took Bucky's hand, and smiled at him softly.

"Fine. We're not done talking about this, though. Do you need anything?" The brunet asked, and Steve pondered that question for a moment.

"I need to walk around a bit, I think."

Walking with an IV wasn't fun, but Steve managed it. Bucky held his other arm to steady him, and Steve got a good look at himself in a passing window. He didn't look too good. A black eye, his nose was more crooked than usual, and his lip was split.

"Serves you right." Bucky huffed, and Steve laughed.

As they continued their trip, Steve stopped short at the sound of singing from a nearby room. Normally he would've kept walking, given the patient some privacy, but the words weren't English. They were…

"A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth
Mise ri d' thaobh, Ó mhaighdean bhàn
Ar rìbhinn òg, fàs a's faic
Do thìr, dìleas fhéin"

"Do you hear that?" Steve whispered, and Bucky turned to listen.

"A ghrian a's a ghealach, stiùir sinn
Gu uair ar cliù 's ar glòir
Naoidhean bhig, ar rìbhinn òg
Mhaighdean uasal bhàn"

"That's Gaelic, isn't it?" Bucky replied, and Steve nodded, and he could almost hear his mother's voice crooning the ancient language in his ear.

"C'mon Ma, sing it again!"

"Alright Stevie, just sit down. We can't have you wheezing too badly, now can we?"

Blinking back to the present, Steve could hear the sound of crying coming from the room. A girl suddenly came barrelling out, her cheeks wet with tears. She collided into Steve, and stumbled backwards.

"S—Sorry." She muttered, and went to go around them, but Steve stopped her.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asked. The girl looked him in the eye, her green eyes bloodshot, and Steve was struck by how young she was. Eighteen at the oldest.

"My mother is dying, so I'm just peachy." She snapped, but then took a breath. Her shoulders slumped, and she ran her fingers through her curly blonde hair.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just…stressed. My ma is dying of tuberculosis, I can't find money for the medicine because I have a shit job, and I think I'm about to get kicked out of my house because like I said, I have no goddamn money." The girl bit her lip as her eyes glassed over.

Steve's heart ached.

"We're sorry Mr. Rogers, but your mother doesn't have much time left."

"What about your dad?"

"Died when I was a baby." She muttered, "never met him."

The girl sat down on a nearby bench and buried her face in her hands.

"I don't know what to do. She's dying. I sing this stupid Disney song to her all the time because she says it reminds her of home, but it isn't distracting her anymore. She's in so much pain, and I can't…" She took a deep breath, "I can't help."

Steve looked at Bucky, who was eyeing him with concern. He knew how close to home this was for Steve. Steve sat next to her and rubbed her back soothingly.

"What's your name, kid?"

"I'm not a kid, I'm eighteen," she said, although it seemed like a reflex, "and I'm Sarah."

A doctor walked out of the room and turned to Sarah.

"Can I talk to you, Miss Jones?" With a sigh, Sarah stood up and walked towards the doctor.

"Are you alright, Steve?" Bucky asked quietly, and Steve ran his fingers through his hair.

"I…yeah, I think. I need to help her." Steve replied, and Bucky raised his eyebrow.

"How the hell are you supposed to do that?"

Steve turned to where Sarah was, and saw tears starting to run down her face again. She covered her mouth with her hand and walked back into the room on unsteady feet. He was struck by the lost look on her face. It was the look that Steve had for months after Sarah Rogers had died.

"I have an idea."

Steve quietly walked towards the room, and knocked on the door. Sarah looked up in confusion, and Steve silently asked if he could come in. She nodded hesitantly.

"This is your mother?" He whispered, and turned to look at the woman on the bed. Her skin was feverish, he could tell, and her eyes were shut tightly.

"Yeah. Can I ask why you're here?" Sarah's voice was shaky, "ma doesn't have a lot of time left."

Steve sat down, and took a deep breath.

"I want to help. My mother died of tuberculosis when I was your age, and it was one of the hardest things I've ever gone through. If I can give someone more time with the person they love, then I'll do it. You said you have no money, right?" Steve asked, and Sarah nodded after a moment, her face white with shock, "then I'll pay the bills if you need it."

"Do you know how expensive it is? I can't—"

"I know Tony Stark," Steve said wryly, "and trust me, I don't think he'd mind helping."

Sarah's mouth dropped.

"How the hell do you know Tony Stark?" She finally asked, and Steve smiled.

"I didn't introduce myself, did I?" When Sarah shook her head, Steve extended his hand and said, "Steve Rogers."

Her eyes seemed to bug out of her head, and after a moment, she grabbed his hand to shake.

"You…you're not joking, right?" Sarah asked suspiciously, and Steve laughed quietly.

"I can prove it in a bit. But anyway, I'll have Tony pay for the hospital bills, along with anything else you need." Sarah's eyes were glazing over, and she took a shaky breath.

"You're serious?" She whispered, and when Steve nodded, Sarah walked over to him and threw her arms around him.

"Thank you, thank you so much, I don't know how I can repay you for this—" Sarah was crying now, and Steve hugged her back carefully.

"There's no need. Just make sure that you spend as much time with her as you can."

Months later, Steve got a letter in the mail.

Dear Steve,

My mother died today. Thanks to you and Mr. Stark, however, she was comfortable and happy when she did. My mother lived a good life, coming to America from Ireland when she was sixteen. She met my dad at eighteen, and they got married pretty quickly. When she was twenty, she had me. My dad died a few months later, but I'm not entirely sure how. Ma never really talked about it.

Anyway, I really don't know how I can possibly thank you enough. The last few months with ma were a blessing, and I know that she was grateful to you as well. If you ever need anything, feel free to contact me at this address. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were sent by God or something.

Along with this letter, there's some poems I wrote. I know they're not much, but that's what I've been doing for a living. I hope you enjoy them.

Rath Dé ort,

Sarah Jones

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