A/N: I know It's been awhile. I've been super busy. Here's is chapter 4 (this is more of a rearrangement of what was originally written. Plus I 've been having Steve and Bucky feels lately). I hope you all enjoy. Please read and review. To: my 4 Guests, Cat, SailsAway52, Artie, Ghost, and JoJo thank you for reviewing. I always love to hear from you guys.

Disclaimer: I own what is mine

Chapter Four

1936, Brooklyn, New York

Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck as he watched the snow fall. It had to be one of the heaviest snowfalls he had ever seen and as more and more of the street was buried under the fluffy flakes he felt his stomach harden with dread. He never used to feel this way when it snowed. In fact, winter had been one of his favorite seasons as a kid. Snowball fights, sledding and giant snowmen were things he had looked forward to, but then he met Steve. Tiny Stevie, who loved winter as much as he did, but could not physically tolerate the harsh cold as well as Bucky.

A wheezy wet cough filtered through the apartment, causing Bucky to wince as he listened for the gasping breaths that would soon follow. He swore Steve was allergic to winter. It never failed. The cold would come and the cough would start and then the snow would fall and the fever came…every year like clockwork. This year, however, Bucky had prayed that Steve's inevitable sickness would not come. It was their second year out of the orphanage, but the first year that Steve would no longer be able to go to the nuns for medical help. At eighteen years old, Steve Rogers was officially too old to use the free medical services the church had provided for all its orphans. Though, Bucky had a feeling that many of the nuns would turn a blind eye for his sickly friend if he did show up at the clinic, but Steve was all about following the rules and would not take the services that were needed by the other kids. It made Bucky want to tear his hair out.

Heaving a sigh, he turned from his place at the window to go to his friend's room. Hopefully, he could convince Steve to take the blankets from his bed. One night in the cold wouldn't hurt the brunette. The sight that greeted Bucky when he entered was worse than he had anticipated. It seemed as if the cough and fever had come to welcome Stevie at the same time this year. The smaller man was curled up tight on his bed, his cheeks flushed with more color than Bucky had seen in a week while a slight sheen of perspiration glimmered in the low light of the room.

"Jesus Steve." Bucky murmured quietly as he moved to pull the thin blankets tighter around his friend.

"I'll be fine." Steve muttered weakly, as passive embarrassment fluttered over his face. The hacking cough that suddenly wracked the blonde's small frame belied his words.

Bucky bit back a sigh as he silently cursed his friend's pride. He couldn't help but wonder just how long Stevie had been feeling this ill. Over the short span of their lives, Bucky had come to learn that while Stevie was exceptionally honest about most things, when it came to his health he could hide anything until it became too bad and he had no choice, but to collapse. The brunette quickly left the room to grab the blankets from his bed. Stevie could shove his stupid pride.

"Bucky-"

His name was the only form of protest that Steve could utter when he came back into the room with the extra covers, before he silenced his friend with a glare, "Did you pick up your medicine from the drugstore?"

Bucky wasn't even sure why he asked, Steve never got his prescriptions filled. By the hesitant look in his friend's eyes, he knew that Stevie hadn't done it this time either.

"Stevie…" Bucky sighed, suddenly feeling more tired than he had any right to.

"We don't have the money, Buck." Steve defended quietly, no longer meeting Bucky's gaze, "Eating is a thing, you know?"

Bucky bit back a curse as he realized where the fresh milk and bread in the kitchen had come from…spare money, Steve had told him, "Stevie."

Steve nearly flinched at the harsh growl of his friend's voice, "I'm fine, Bucky."

"No, you're an idiot. Jesus, Stevie that money was for your medicine, not food. We can always find money for food." Bucky lectured not sure if he was more exasperated or angry.

"There just wasn't enough for the medicine, the price was raised again. I figured that what we did have would be better spent on food." Steve sighed as he tried to ignore the cough building up in his chest, "It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is, Stevie. You should have said something about the cost." Bucky muttered, now sure he wanted to shake his friend. Didn't Stevie understand just how terrifying it was when he was sick? Some of what he thinking must have shown on his face as Steve glanced at him sorrowfully.

"I'm not gonna die from this, Buck…promise." Steve said softly as he tried to banish the look of abject worry from his friends face.

Bucky just snorted and shook his head, "Damn straight you won't or I'd have to bring you back to life and kill you, myself."

"Please -" Steve wheezed out, "Like you could take me."

The boy's eyes met briefly before they both broke composure and grinned. Bucky rolled his eyes, but pushed his ever flowing concern to the back of his mind, "You're still an idiot and you're missing the first snowfall."

"You mean that white, fluffy stuff? Seen it." Steve muttered dismissively as he held back a yawn.

Bucky noticed his drowsiness anyway, "Go to sleep, Stevie. You're making me tired."

"Yeah, yeah."

Bucky watched silently as his friend drifted back to sleep. His fingers sluggishly ran through his hair while he listened to Steve's labored breaths. It was going to be a long night. Despite, what Stevie said, he needed the medicine. He always needed the medicine. With practice stealth he left his friend's room and slipped into his dinky quarters to quietly rummage through his dresser drawers. It took him a few minutes to find what he wanted. He paused only briefly before letting his hands wrap around a small cardboard box.

It was a pathetic little thing. The corners had started to wear and the edges were a little crinkled, but it held the last thing Bucky had of his mother and father. Their wedding rings resided inside. He could not bring himself to pull lid off to stare at the shiny circles he knew were there. Instead he grabbed his coat and shoved the box into his pocket. They needed the money.

xXx

"No."

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, unable to make eye contact with portly man before him, "Mr. Parson…"

"No, Bucky." Franklin Parson said soundly as he leaned heavily against the table behind him. His gaze shifted down to the glass showcase of his pawn shop and onto the pitiful little cardboard box that resided on top. He nearly shook his head, he could not believe what the boy was asking of him.

"I need the money." Bucky stated roughly. He shifted again before letting his shoulders slump, "It's the only thing I have with any value."

Frank frowned as Bucky finally met his stare. He hated seeing the desperation in the boy's eyes, but it was the resigned weariness that bothered Frank more. He bit back a sigh as be grumbled to himself, "I'm not buying your parents rings. What do you need the money for anyway?"

Again Bucky looked away, an unhappy scowl painting his face, but Frank waited patiently. He did not get an answer, however. Bucky leaned forward and snatched the box from the counter before heading toward the door. Frank heaved a sigh at the boy's stubbornness, "How sick is he?"

The way Bucky tensed and nearly stumbled was all the answer that Frank needed, though the incredulous look that Bucky shot him was rather entertaining. He raised a mocking brow in response, "This isn't the first time you've been in here to sell something, Bucky. And it's always for Stephen."

Bucky bit his lip, "The price on his medicine was raised. His cough is getting worse and he has a fever."

This time Frank did not bother holding in his sigh before he stood straight to reach for his cash registered. He discharged the cash drawer and removed fifty dollars before pressing Bucky with a hard stare, "You are not selling those rings. You will work here the next few weekends to pay off this loan."

Bucky stared in surprise, his mouth moving soundlessly, "….Mr. Parson…"

"Just nod and say you understand." Frank grumbled tiredly as he waited for the younger man to take the money.

"I understand." Bucky murmured quietly as he slipped the money into his pocket. His smile came out more as a grimace and Frank knew that it was killing the kid's pride to be taking the money, "Thank you."

Frank waved him off in dismissal, "Yeah, yeah. Get out of here and help your friend."

Bucky turned on his heel and made for the door again before he came up short, "Why…why won't you take 'em?"

There was a brief silence as Frank studied the young man before him. He wondered if Bucky knew how much he looked like his father. He found himself leaning back against the table and crossing his arms. Huffing quietly, he smiled, "I wasn't always a pawn shop owner, boyo. I used to work down at Solomon's Jewelers when I was about your age and I remember your father. He worked himself silly to just put a down payment on those rings. He wanted to show your mother he wasn't some schmuck that he could take care of her. It took him almost a year to fully pay for both the rings and I'm not gonna let you throw 'em away. Even if it is for a good reason. When you find yourself a girl, then you can give away one of those rings."

Bucky's smile came a little easier as he nodded, "I'll see you Saturday, Mr. Parson…. Don't tell Stevie."

Frank rolled his eyes, but nodded his head, "Will you just go already, before I change my mind and ask for my money back."

"Yes, sir." Bucky quipped before slipping outside.

"Damn kids." Frank cursed quietly under his breath and rubbed at the back of his neck. He did not know what possessed him to help the kid out, but he suddenly had the feeling he wouldn't regret. He also had the feeling that it would be a long few weekends. He wished that Robert was still alive to see the man his son was becoming.

xXx

If he could reached the handle without putting the bags down... Bucky shifted the weight of the bags in his arm as he approached the front door of his apartment. He didn't want to put the paper bags down, only to pick the crinkling paper up again. It would be too loud and he had no desire to wake Steve. He shifted again, this time hefting his leg up to balance one of the paper sacks on his knee before angling his body caddy corner to the door. He just needed a second to twist the handle. Biting down slightly on his tongue in concentration he shot his hand out and had the door open in a blink before hefting the balanced bag back into his arm. A triumphant grin stole across his face as he made his way into the dingy little apartment and toward the makeshift kitchen. Amusement shined in his eyes as he began to unload the groceries, he should take up a career as a cat burglar.

He chuckled quietly to himself and finished putting the food away before removing the medicine for Stevie. His smiled dimmed slightly as he grasped the cold glass bottle. A bittersweet reminder on how he was able to afford the groceries in the first place. His smile turned rueful as he realized that Frank had probably given him more than enough money for just that reason. Fifty dollars. Bucky had been able to get Stevie's medicine, some much needed food, and paid for the electricity and heating for the next few weeks. The apartment would be comfortable enough for Stevie to recover. He owed old man Parson big time.

"Buck? That you?" Steve's hoarse voice called from his bedroom.

The sound of shifting cloth and squeaking hinges reached Bucky's ears before he had a chance to reply, "Yeah, it's me. Got your medicine."

He made it to the bedroom's threshold before Steve had even made it halfway across the room. A quick glance told Bucky that Steve was already winded and tired. He should be back in bed. The bemused, admittedly slightly suspicious, look in his friend's eyes was hardly surprising, however. He had learned a long time ago that Steve hated being taken care of, he hated feeling incapable, and that little qualm only became worse when he was sick. He would have hell to pay if Stevie ever found out he tried to pawn his parent's wedding rings.

"Where'd you get the money for it?" Steve asked bluntly, knowing better than to beat around the bush with his best friend.

Bucky shrugged and smiled crookedly, "Who said I needed to pay? Susie Wheaton is working at the drugstore now and you know how she's sweet on me."

Steve snorted holding in a cough and rolled his eyes, "She doesn't like you that much."

"I'm wounded." Bucky responded dramatically with a hand clasped to his chest, "You don't think I can charm ole' Sue?"

"I think she hasn't forgiven you for going out with her sister and not her." Steve said dryly. A small smile fluttered over his mouth as Bucky winced at that particular memory, "So how'd you get it, Buck?"

"I managed to get an extra job. It's a temporary deal." Bucky said quietly as he carefully chose his words, "But I'll be working Saturdays for the next few weeks."

Steve sighed heavily, "Bucky…"

"Don't start, Stevie. It's not a big deal. We needed the money and you needed the medicine."

"You shouldn't have to do this just for me." Steve said wearily, a look of self-hatred passing through his eyes.

Bucky silently cursed, "Who said it was just for you? I happen to know of a cute blonde on the floor below us who would be just devastated if something happened to you."

A smile twitched at the corners of Steve's mouth, "Cady's three, I think she'll move on."

"You would leave me to deal with those crocodile tears." Bucky stated sagely as he passed over the bottle of medicine, "Go to bed, you look like hell."

"Love you too." Steve said drolly. Bucky barely made it to the door before hearing a whispered, "Thanks Buck."

"Anytime, Stevie."

Kingston, New York 1935

The Stark home was eerily quiet as Elena sat stiffly in the great room. Aside from the regular Sunday dinner her family attended here, the last few times she had been inside had been when Howard had come home from school and was throwing some ridiculously lavish party. This place had always been loud and filled with people. Now, her mother resided on the sofa across the room with a handkerchief in hand as she practice her upset face for when the doctor came in with the news of Howard Senior's death. Fergus was pacing about, eyeing the antique furniture. Elena had no doubt he was pricing each item to pawn and cover his gambling debts.

Despite her family's disgusting faults, she could not help but acknowledge to herself that she was now the biggest sinner of the three of them. Her eyes followed her brother's movements as he paused before a particularly nice grandfather clock while out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother gasp and press her hand to her chest in mock despair. She felt the insane urge to laugh…they were all going to hell.

The door to the great room opened and everyone froze, expecting the doctor to come in with the horrible news. Instead, Mika, Howard Senior's manservant entered. He was as impassive as ever as he directed his soulful brown stare on Elena. For one horrifying moment, Elena was sure the man knew what she had done. Her breath caught in her throat as her stomach churned with guilt.

"Mr. Stark is on the phone for you, Miss. Turner."Mika's somber voice resonated through the room.

What – Elena blinked as her mind tried to process his words. Mr. Stark? He was upstairs in bed…dying. How could he possibly be – and suddenly the light bulb went on. Howard, her Howard, was on the phone. She stood quickly, well aware of the eyes of her mother and brother on her as she exited the room and followed Mika to the Stark home office. He paused outside the door and gestured for her to enter. His eyes never left her and Elena felt apprehension crawl through her veins as she gave him a tight-lipped smile and entered the office. He knew, she swore, he knew.

The door clicked shut as her hand wrapped around the phone's receiver and pressed it to her ear, "Howard?"

"Birdie, I'm at the train station. Has he…" The phone line crackled as she heard Howard sigh, "Has he been -"

"Pronounced dead? No." Elena supplied, she fidgeted and glanced at the closed door, "Umm, the doctor is with him now. It's just a matter of when."

There was a moment of still silence and she could just picture her cousin nodding to himself as he tried to figure things out, "Okay…alright…and no one suspects?"

She nibbled her lip as she tried to push away her paranoia, "I don't think so…but, Howard?"

"Yeah?"

"Just…" she hesitated, "Just get here, okay? I feel like I'm going to lose it soon."

"I'll be there in an hour, Birdie." He replied quietly, "Just be you and if something happens…lie. You're the better liar of the two of us anyway."

She rolled her eyes, "You're so comforting."

"Aren't I?"

Elena could practically see the smirk playing on his lips, but despite his stupid remark, she felt a little better. The brat probably knew it too. She huffed a little, "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, I promise I'll be there."

The phone clicked and the dial tone hit her ears. Elena sighed and rubbed at her face. It was going to be a long day.

Her blue eyes drifted around the room before landing on her uncle's globe. Two bottles of booze resided inside, she knew. Her fingers twitched, she rarely drank before five. A personal rule of hers after being surrounded by so many drunks: her uncle, her mother, her brother, and at times her cousin. She was making an exception today. She knocked the cover of the globe off and pulled out a bottle of whiskey before snatching out the drinking glass. After a pouring of two fingers and a deep gulp later, Elena rested back in the office chair and allowed the warmth from the alcohol to soothe her. That was how Howard found her an hour later as he came striding into the office. He barely raised an eyebrow at the open bottle and simply found a glass for himself. He poured them both a decent amount of liquid before holding up his glass.

"Cheers." He knocked back the glass without even flinching before pouring himself another.

Elena tapped his leg, "Slow down. You can't be drunk for this."

Howard grunted in acknowledgement and slid his glass onto the desk, "Hiding?"

There was beat before Elena realized what he was talking about, "My family is driving me nuts. I'm pretty sure they've put a price tag on everything in the house. Your call gave me the chance to get away."

Howard snorted, "Has your mother completely forgotten that her brother has a son? Me?"

"You're sixteen. She thinks she can overrule you like she does Fergus." She pressed her glass of whiskey to her forehead, "This is insane."

Elena could feel her cousin's eyes boring into her, but she did not want to meet his pitying gaze.

"You didn't have to do it, you know?" His voice was a low, barely a gruff whisper, "I was more than willingly to handle this myself."

"Oh, please." Elena scoffed as she finally met Howard's gaze, "It would have taken years for you to do this by yourself. You're only home from school during the holidays and summer and 'he' always makes sure he has a business meeting to attend so he won't have to see you. It was easier for me to dose him. I'm here every weekend after all."

He could not hold her steely gaze for long. Howard looked away frustrated, he knew she was right. Ever since his father had sent him to boarding school two years prior, the man avoided him like the plague. To be honest, the arrangement had suited Howards just fine. He no longer had to explain the bruises that would mysteriously appear on his face, he no longer had to listen to his mother quietly weeping as her husband took her to task again. But then, he had lived with the thought that when his father had sent him away that his mother had finally taken the chance to leave. He had deluded himself into thinking she was living the high life somewhere on the west coast…far from harm.

His gaze sought out the bookcase across the room. On the second shelf, two books from the left, resided a secret cache that held his father's personal journal. The man wrote down everything in there…and Howard had found it. Seven months ago. That had been when he found out the truth. His mother had never left as he had thought. She tried, but his father…. His stomach churned and he closed his eyes as if to block out the words he had read.

Howard Senior had written down where he had buried her and Howard Junior had dug her up.

Annalisa Stark had rotted away in a shallow grave in some obscure cove off on the property with no one the wiser. He glanced back at Birdie to find her already watching him. She had to drag him away from the sight of his mother's body. She tried to protect him, but not even his cousin –his best friend could make that nightmare disappear. Annalisa Stark was not the only family member his father had killed either. Howard's hand reached for Birdie's. He was avenging his mother, Birdie was avenging her father.

"No one can know." Howard whispered.

Elena gave him a baleful look, "I wasn't planning on making the fact that we've been dousing your father with arsenic the past few months' common knowledge."

He scowled lightly at her as she took a sip from her glass. She sent him a fake smile, "Besides I wouldn't look good in prison stripes."

Howard snorted and took a drink himself.

Howard Stark Senior died three hours later. The doctor diagnosed it as weakened immune system brought on by the pneumonia he suffered almost a year previously. He had been sick quite often after that illness struck him. Never really recovering his old strength. No one suspected that he had been poisoned.