Chapter 10: A Knight is born

AN/: this is an interlude chapter and will be short. Lots of character development here. Not many scenes, but lots of narration. Important stuff, so please read and review, as said before, I have no beta, and please point out my word errors, until then. I don't type well. Well then, onto the fic.

Over the next few days and the intervening week, Steven showed the officers and command of the SSR just how smart and skilled Steven really was. If a book was put in front of him, he would read it cover to cover, and would be able to recite whole passages verbatim from memory. Bucky couldn't be more proud of his boy, but like any parent watching their child grow up before their eyes, Bucky felt a sense of despair and loss over how to handle the unprecedented growth and development of his son. Steven grew at such an astounding rate, that Bucky spent every waking moment he could with his son, so as to not miss anything.

The accelerated growth was not without its drawbacks though. Steven had terrible growing pains that left him aching and unable to move from bed for hours. Bucky would sit patiently by his side, holding his hand and stroking his head, when Steven curled up on himself and groaned with pain; tears leaking out of his eyes as he gripped his Ada's hand in a vice like grip to ground himself from the pain.

The pain only came at certain points of the day, and was manageable; so when Steven was pain free and not eating like a starving man, he was at his new desk in Howard's lab learning his basic education: reading, writing, arithmetic, history and sciences. Steven loved learning about electronics and begged Howard to show him more in his more advanced sessions. Let me tell you, Howard may be a hard and cold scientist at times but Steven's big blue eyes and yearning face made him all gooey and turned his signature iron spine to soft lead. Stark caved and told him later. Steven grinned like he had just won a major victory and went back to his books.

The largest contributor in the genre of books besides, math and science, were the large tomes of strategy and tactics piled high on the desk. Steve grinned at the boy's enthusiasm and gave up a few of his own books to add to the ever growing pile. One day after a long debriefing, Steve and Bucky went to the lab to check in on Steven's progress. Howard was in full professor mode, talking about engineering and electronics, while his scrawling penmanship on the black board showed advanced equations in the latest breakthroughs in physics. Bucky looked at the board and glanced over Steven's shoulder to peek at his notes, and sure enough, the equations were there along with other notes from earlier in the lesson.

Bucky smiled over at Steve, who flashed a quick smile at Bucky's obvious pride over his son's blatant display of genius. Steve picked up an earlier notebook and found Steven's penmanship lessons, and notes on the history of combat. Steve's smile turned soft, as he remembered his own obsession on the topic when he was far younger and smaller. A flash of red caught his eye and Steve put down the notebook. When he brought it up for inspection, he was surprised to see Chinese characters embossed in gold leaf on the front. The leather was dark red, almost blood red in color, and contrasted so sharply with the flickering gold. Steve looked at the book and then the English title, raising his eyebrow in curiosity.

"Hey, Howard," he said and raised the book up for the inventor to see. "What's this?" Howard looked up from his lesson and to the book in Steve's hand.

"Oh," he said in realization. "That's Sun Tzu, the Art of War. Great book of strategy and warfare; I thought Steven might benefit from reading it. It might help you too, Cap. It's got some real insightful learning on battle tactics." Steve looked back down at the book in his hand before opening it up to a random page and reading over the quotes and philosophical messages on war. Steve found it interesting and helpful, before he placed it back down; this time on the very top of Steven's stack of books.

"Have him read this first," he said, "If he is going to be in this war, and an officer, he'll need to learn good battle tactics." At this Steven's head whipped around and gaped at him with wide eyes and awe. Even Bucky was shocked to silence, before the pride and love for his son made him beam like a star as he smiled.

"Really," Steven asked, "An Officer? They want me to be an Officer?" Steve grinned and nodded.

"Your tests scores keep showin' 'em how smart you are," he answered, "and I know a few people who'll pull some strings to get you the officer's exam, but you've got to study hard, and learn a lot more before you can take that test. And before that you've got to take combat training, and a whole lot of other training if you wanna be a Howling Commando." At the mention of Steve's elite unit, Steven's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, before a wide grin took its place and Steven turned back to his books to study even harder.

Bucky walked up to Steve and pulled him aside to talk in hushed tones.

"You really gonna get him transferred to our squad, Steve," he asked dubiously. "Do you think that will go over well? A rooky officer being placed right into the top commando unit in the allied armies; it might make some people mad, Steve, or worse, curious." Steve held up his hand and stopped Bucky from continuing.

"I know you want to protect him, Bucky" he said, "but the best way we can keep an eye on him and take care of him is if he is with us."

"I just don't know if he can handle it," Bucky said and glanced over at his son. "That's a lot of pressure to be putting on a kid who's not even a month old."

"Bucky," Steve said determinedly, "I've seen Steven's test scores, and they're off the charts!" Bucky's eyes widened and Steve continued. "He's smart, Buck; really smart; as smart as Howard, maybe even as smart as that Einstein fellow, if not smarter. If we make him an enlisted soldier, and put him in just any unit, they won't be able to handle him. He's as willful as you can be and a lot smarter than some officers in the higher ups." Bucky nodded but still was unconvinced, so Steve plowed on. "Then there is his diet we have to think about. If we stick him in with a regular unit, with regular army rationing, he won't last a week before he ends up in the infirmary from malnutrition. His metabolism is on par with mine. He needs the extra rations that he won't get from a regular unit. With us, we can ensure he is given all that he needs and he will be close enough that you can keep him safe."

Bucky's shoulders drooped further and further, the more Steve talked, before he finally realized that Steve was right. As much as it pained him, and as dangerous as their missions were at times, it was safer for Steven to be a member of the Howling Commandoes, than in some regular infantry unit. But just because Steve was right, didn't mean that Bucky was going to concede to him that easily. He huffed out a breath and glared up at Steve. Steve just folded his arms across his chest, and planted himself just like he always did before a fight. The two stared each other down, before Bucky sighed and glanced away.

"Fine," he ground out, before he turned the full force of his glare back at Steve. "But he had better be fully prepared to fight these guys, Steve. I'm not letting my only child go out there on only minimal training. You train him, in hand to hand, and the rest of us give him the rest of his rounding out for combat readiness training."

"Actually," Steve said with a victorious smirk, "I was thinking you should give him that training, seeing as my style of fighting is more tailored around the shield, and you do more of that. If you teach him knife fighting and shooting, I have no doubt that he will be the best Lieutenant this Army has to offer." Bucky glared at Steve. He was caught and he knew it, but Bucky Barnes never gives up without one last jab.

"Fine!" he said "but you're still teaching him how to fight, Steve. You're the only one strong enough to really test him." Steve nodded, but wore the triumph on his face proudly.

Boot camp

It was well and truly official: Steven was going to join the Army and become an officer. It scared the crap out of Bucky but he loved his son enough to know not to discourage him. Steven was safer with the Commandoes and Steve. With them he could be himself, and not lie to the people who would have to trust him with their lives. Steven was determined to pass the officer's exam on the second of March, which was two days away, so Bucky and the commandoes took it upon themselves to train him. And that meant Boot Camp.

For Bucky and the others, boot camp was months of physical and mental hell that helped them become the hardened and capable soldiers they were. For Steve, it was a one week crash course on the very basics of army regs and combat, but even after that he had taken courses after the serum to train him further, even if he felt them to be all in vain when he went on the USO tour. Steven had the hardest and most difficult of all of them: he had two days to become combat ready, and know everything about being a soldier and an officer during a time of War. To make it easier on the boy, they broke down his training into parts. The first was basic weapon maintenance and readiness. The second was physical combat, i.e. fighting hand to hand. Last but not least, was combat and arms training; knife or bayonet fighting, and marksmanship.

Steve took over the physical part of Steven's training right off the bat, with Bucky giving suggestions from the side lines, as a second coach. The covered the basics first, stance, foot work, and arm placement, then moved into more complicated fighting that only Steve could show and demonstrate to Steven, being the only one strong enough to handle him in a fight.

For the first few hours Steven hand his hat handed to him time after time by both Bucky and Steve, as the drilled and re-drilled the techniques into Steven's muscle memory, then Steven started to get the hang of the moves and basic techniques. When that happened, he began to hold his own against Bucky's superior knowledge and skill. Once he finally laid Bucky flat on his back, Steven graduated to solely fighting Steve and learning more and more complicated fighting moves and combos that his learning mind absorbed like a sponge. The drills lasted for hours until Steven began to hold his ground against Steve, and even get in a few lucky shots under his defenses.

When the defensive and offensive combat finished, both Steve and Bucky were panting and sweating, one more than the other, and were sore but had grins of triumph on their faces as Steven panted in front of them; his head between his knees and his hands braced on his thighs for support. The boy's lanky frame was tall and slowly but surely filling in with muscle, and his shoulders heaved as he took deep gulping breaths to come down from his battle rush. If Steve didn't know better, he would have thought him to be just another green recruit, barely 18 years-old and fresh out of high school. But Steve did know better, and so did Bucky. Steven was growing; even sense that morning, Steven's clothes, which had hung baggy on his frame, were now tighter, and more fitting than before. His broad shoulders, that had been boney and gangly, were now filling in with hard muscle before their eyes.

Bucky stood up and took a good look at his son. Gone was the gangly, coltishness of puberty and adolescents, replaced slowly but surely by the broad roundness of maturity and manhood. The awkwardness was gone as well, and the graceless stumbling with it, replaced by sure footedness and an unnatural grace and poise that Bucky knew came from Steven's father. As Steven grew, he resembled Bucky even more but held onto that refined quality that drew Bucky to his father. Steven looked, in many ways, more like Steve physically, by build then Bucky. They both had the look of Greek Olympians from the ancient days, with long legs made for running and a powerful form for fighting; only Steven's was still developing.

Bucky smiled at his son, with his hands on his hips. Steven looked up at his Ada and saw the proud smile and grinned back. Steven stood up to his full height and Bucky saw that his clothes were getting to the point of too short. Steven was just shy of eye level with Bucky and he knew that his son might be taller than him soon. Bucky's nearly 6' frame would soon be over shadowed by his son, and he didn't even mind. Tenderness and lover leached into his smile without even his meaning to, and Steven looked at him curiously.

"What," he asked with a confused grin and laugh. Bucky pulled Steven into his arms and tucked his chin next to his ear. He pressed a kiss to the delicate point and whispered softly into his ear.

"I'm so proud of you, Stevie," he whispered, and Steven pulled him closer, burying his head by Bucky's jaw line. "I love you so much. Never doubt that, Stevie. Never doubt that I love you, and I am proud of you, because I am. I may not always show it, but this is the truth. You are my first born, and will have a special place in my heart." Steven gave Bucky one final squeeze before he pulled away, his eyes suspiciously red and misty.

"I love you too, Ada," he said back and grinned. At the sound of a discrete cough, they looked over at Steve, who had a knowing smile on his face but wasn't looking at them. Bucky laughed and coughed nervously as he cleared his throat and wiped away the remnants of the tears in his eyes and on his face.

"Well, um," he said and cleared his throat, "we oughta get you some new digs before you split the seams on those things." Steven smiled sheepishly down on his clothes and nervously laughed.

"Yeah, oh" he chuckled, "right."

Once Steven was reequipped with looser clothes, Bucky and Steve took the growing boy out to the range to drill with Weapons. Bucky had Steven strip the rifles he would be using and put them back together over and over until he had learned it so well that he could field strip the guns and reassemble them with a blindfold. Then they tested his powers on the weapons. Steven learned that his control over technology extended to mechanical as well as electrical. Thus, Steven learned the ins and outs of all the weapons he would be handling; learning how the pistols worked and how the rifles worked and how to disable them with a thought, or take them apart with a simple gesture.

It was tantamount to watching magic, as Steven, arm thrown out toward a rifle in Dugan's hands, drew his arm back like he was pulling an invisible string, hand open, and the gun dismantled itself piece by piece, and was drawn to Steven's outstretched left arm. The gun reassembled in Steven's grasp, every piece lining up perfectly to Steven's rifle stance and posture. Dugan looked down at his hands where the gun had been, and then up to Steven, who was holding the rifle perfectly in his hands, finger just off the trigger. The expression of dumbfounded shock made a grin break out across Steven's face and Bucky to throw his head back in deep bellied laughter.

Giggles and chuckles erupted from all the spectators at Dugan's expression of shock and soon the whole unit was laughing and holding their sides to keep in the mirth. Dugan let out a snort and laughed himself, after realizing what a fool he made: gaping like a fish at Steven's display of skill, when he knew how powerful the boy was.

"Damn, Kid!" he chuckled, "I knew you had skills, but I didn't think you were a glorified Merlin!" Steven let out a deep bellied laugh, and the rest of the Commandoes followed suit.

"I doubt even Merlin had such skills as our young Steven," Falsworth laughed. The boy in question grinned, and the Commandoes could see Bucky behind that smile; the crooked, cocky, so sure smile that Bucky perfected on the streets of Brooklyn long before Steven was born. Steven's cloths were filling out again, and they knew that before the end of the day Steven was going to need a new set, again.

The training continued and once they were sure that Steven was proficient with the weapons given to him the moved for a rest to start the last part of his training the next day. It was going to take the longest, because it had most of the important things a Soldier needed to know in combat: evasion, knife fighting, and weapon accuracy; meaning Bucky was going to play drill Sergeant for the day while Steve played instructor.

Steven was a natural with a blade in hand, and fought like a dancer; wreaking a graceful dance of death as he slashed parried and thrusted, countering Bucky's moves without conscious thought. Bucky was brutal in his ferocity and taught Steven his brutal efficiency. Steven learned to keep moving and pulling away from certain moves only to dart back in to attack on others, and with this fighting style in place Bucky laid the groundwork for Steven to be the best and most skilled fighter on the team besides Steve.

Bucky sat Steven down and taught him the importance of patience and calm whilst in battle. Steven laid belly down on the grass counting his breaths, and not squeezing off a round until he had reached 100. When Steven's hands shook, and he missed on the first try, Bucky pulled him up and taught him a technique that had served him well.

"It's called the empty lung technique, Steven," he said as Steven looked down the sights of the rifle again, preparing for another try. "Essentially you just breathe normally, but once you got the target in sight, you breathe out, count to three and fire on two. It might help with your nerves throwing you off. Come on, let's try it." Bucky helped Steven line up the shot again, but this time once Steven had the target in his cross hairs, he kept his breathing normal, and on an exhale he waited a beat then fired before drawing in a breath. The shot hit right through the dead center on the target, and Bucky let out a low whistle, a grin pulling on his lips, as he sighted the paper target down his binoculars.

Steven looked up at his Ada, but didn't leave the prone position he held on the ground. A grin pulled on his lips as Bucky lowered his binoculars and turned an impressed smile on his son.

"Did I do good?" Steven asked.

"Not bad," Bucky answered, and Steven grinned even wider. "Just remember, Steven: these are paper targets, they're a lot different from the real thing. For one, the real ones shoot back, and don't give ya much chance to line up a perfect shot. So we're gonna work on yer speed as well as accuracy, okay?" Steven nodded and Bucky clapped him on the shoulder in comradely. "Chamber another round in, and we'll do it again; let's see how many targets you can shoot down on one breath next."

They drilled and worked on Steve's sniping skills for a few more hours, until Bucky had declared him good enough to substitute him, in a pinch, if needs be. Pistol shooting was where Steven really showed his colors. Steven should shoot an automatic just as well as any of the team, and his weapon of choice was the same as his Ada: a Thomson M1928A1 Auto-rifle; as deadly as any weapon in his hands. But Steven's real talent was with the hand guns. He could fire any pistol with deadly accuracy at the maximum range of the gun, and he could fire with either hand, sometimes using a gun in each hand, just to prove he could do it and do it well. His pistol of choice was the same as Steve's: a pair of Colt .45 M1911A1's, with a special 9 round magazine, and Steven always put an extra in the chamber.

Both Steve and Bucky were impressed by the speed and accuracy Steven had with his hand guns that Steve cracked a joke about him being as good as Peggy. The response it elected from the rest of the Commandoes, especially Bucky, got Steven laughing; knowing that there was a story there that Steve would eventually tell.

By the end of the day, Steven and the Commandoes were thoroughly tired, and Bucky and Steve had deemed Steven as ready as he would ever be for the test the next day. Steven peeled himself out of the clothes he was given and collapsed into bed, with a long groan. Bucky smirked at Steven's antics before he stripped down himself and flopped into bed. He moaned in relief when he settled into the cot, letting himself relax for the first time since lunch, before he drifted off to sleep with the prayer that Steven would pass the test ahead with flying colors.

Exams

Bucky circuited around the room in front of the door for what felt like the hundredth time since he stood up. Steve smirked up at him from his seat in the chair by the door. His shoulders were hunched, and his forearms were braced on his legs, with his hands clasped between his knees. He looked the picture of a patient but still nervous man. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like an expectant father pacing the room waiting for the news. All that he was missing was the cloud of smoke from chain smoking; as he turned on his heal again for another pass. Steve let out a huff of laughter as he straightened his back and looked at his friend.

"You know, you're gonna wear a grove in the floor, if ya keep pacin' like that, Buck," he said calmly. Bucky stopped his circuit and fisted his hands in his hair, making it stick in all directions. Steve laughed at Bucky's rumpled state of distress for a moment; before Bucky ran his hands through his hair and straightened it back out. "I don't know why you're so nervous. Bucky, he'll do fine. You know he will. That pacin' is only workin' you into a tizzy, so sit yer butt down in this chair, and take a breath." Bucky plopped himself in the Chair on Steve's left, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned against the wall. The stillness lasted a grand total of 30 seconds before Bucky's leg started to jiggle up and down with nervousness.

Steve snorted and leaned back to look at his friend. Bucky's lips were thinned and his nervous leg bouncing caused a light squeak from the sole of his shoe on the hard polished floor. He was leaned back against the wall and his head was thrown back as he stared at anything but the clock on the wall opposite the door. The clock ha a loud tick tock sound for every second past and it made Bucky hunch in on himself and bite his lip in his anxiousness to get the clock to move faster. Steve smirked and kept his eyes on Bucky's face until the sniper finally acknowledged his presence. Steve's smirk brought a glare from the older man, which simply said "what the hell do you think you're looking at". Steve raked his gaze up and down Bucky's tense form, and Bucky sheepishly uncurled his shoulders and arms. The hands grasped at the edges of the chair, and Steve could see Bucky's misery writ in every line on his face and body. Steve took pity on his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. A gentle shake caused a small smile to pull at his lips and relax his face and form.

"He'll do fine," Steve said firmly but calmly, and Bucky nodded as he swallowed his nervous jitters.

"Yeah," he sighed, "yeah. He'll do fine. I just… wish I… could be there with him. Be there for him, and not our here." Steve cocked an eyebrow and huffed out a laugh.

"Bucky," he said with a grin, "you are here for him. You were, just seconds ago, pacing a hole into the floor because you were so nervous for him. You've done everything you were capable of to prepare him for this. You've done more than enough to get him ready for this than even my own trainers. He'll be fine." Bucky relaxed under Steve's reassurances and slumped back into the chair, leaning his head against the wall and looking up at the ceiling. He slowly breathed in and out, in calming meditation to quiet his nervous mind.

Steve smiled and pulled his hand away from Bucky's shoulder, when the door opened. Both Bucky and Steve sat up straight in their seats and looked over anxiously at the instructor that has stepped out of the room. The thin bookish man looked at the two burly soldier's and gave them a nervous smile, realizing that they must be the testee's friends or family. He recognized Steve instantly and gulped down a nervous chuckle. He walked to stand in front of the two men and pulled back his shoulders to gather his courage.

"You must be here for Steven," he said, and they nodded. "I haven't told him his results yet, but I think you two might want to tell him instead." He paused and the two leaned forward anxiously. "He passed, with flying colors." Bucky and Steve leapt to their feet and embraced each other in bone crushing hugs, laughter and joy brightening their faces and making them youthful again. Steve pulled away first and ruffled Bucky's hair in a playful gesture. "He had the best marks I have ever seen. He's the top of his class, by far. You should both be very proud of him." Bucky's grin turned luminous when he heard this and he started laughing with joy.

"Oh, believe me, sir," he said to the man, "I am! I'm very, very proud!" the instructor smiled and beat a hasty retreat from the pair as they entered the room to give Steven the good news.

Steven was ecstatic. His joy knew no bounds, and he pulled his Ada and Steve into a big hug. Bucky hid his tears of pride in his son's hair as he kissed his ear and whispered words of love and praise to him.

"See, Buck," Steve said once they pulled away from him, "I told you he would do great. After all he had the best teacher anyone could have ever asked for."

Commissioning

The commissioning ceremony took place that afternoon, in the SSR headquarters in London. Steven was given a finely pressed and tailored uniform, fit perfectly to his broad shoulders with room to spare in the chest and arms for his developing muscles. It was to be the last uniform he would ever be given from the Quartermaster until his promotion. The double breasted pockets with brass buttons shone proudly on his chest, with the long row of buttons keeping the jacket shut. The belt around his waist drew attention to his trim and well cut figure, while the pins on his collar sat flat on his collar bones depicting the SSR crest and the US pins sat above them. On his left breast was a paratrooper pin, and on the flap of his left pocket was his infantry pin. Steven took a deep breath and looked at all his friends and family attending. They were all in their dress bests and each and every pin and button was shined to a brilliant finish. There were proud smiles on all their faces, and Steven even saw tears in his Ada's eyes as he tugged the hem of his jacket to flatten out the fabric on his chest.

The cap on his head sat slightly askew but not enough for reprimand, as the Colonel entered the control room.

"Attention!" he bellowed and all the men and women in the room stood ramrod straight heels clicking in unison as they stood at attention. Steven did the same out of a kneejerk reaction drilled into him by Dugan and his Ada the first day of training; his shoulders pulling back and his head up, eyes forward as his new CO approached. "At ease!" he said loudly and everyone went into parade rest, feet shoulder length apart and arms clasped behind their backs. Steven stayed at attention because Steve told him that this part would require him to be at attention. The Colonel turned to him with a smirk and motioned an aid forward.

In the aid's hands was a simple black velvet box, with gold seams. The box was opened and inside was a pair of gold bar pins no more than an inch long and not very wide. They were second lieutenant bars and Steven felt himself puff up a little with pride in knowing that he had earned them.

"Cadet Buchanan," he stared and Steven squared his shoulders in preparation. "you have shown all the qualities and capabilities of becoming a fine officer in this United States Army, and having passed all your classes and training with exemplary form it is my duty and honor, to be the one to present you with these bars and swear you in to oath your duties as an officer in the United States Army on this day, of March the 2nd, 1944." The Colonel took the pins out of the case and pinned them to his shoulder epaulets. Once pinned the older man took the bible from the Corporal's waiting hands. "Please place you left hand on the cover and raise your right hand." Steven did so accordingly, knowing in his heart that he was about to make an oath to God. He had made right with God the day he found out about his abilities, and was baptized in a washtub in Howard's lab by the Army chaplain.

"Now, repeat after me," Philips ordered. "'I' you full name…"

"I, Steven Grant Buchanan," Steven parroted back.

"Having been appointed an officer in the Army of the United States…"Philips prompted.

"Having been appointed an officer in the Army of the United States…" Steven parroted.

"As indicated above in the grade of second Lieutenant," he said, and Steven repeated before Philips continued, "do solemnly swear…" Steven parroted this back, and then continued to repeat Philips.

"That I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States… Against all enemies, foreign or domestic… that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same… that I take this obligation freely… without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion… and that I will well and faithfully discharge… the duties of the office… upon which I am about to enter…"

"So help me God," Philips said.

"So help me God," Steven repeated. Colonel Philips smiled as Steven took his hand off the Bible and stood at attention.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant," he said and held out his hand. Steven grasped it and gave it a firm shake. When the man let go, Philips stepped back and pulled himself into attention before giving Steven a salute. Steven straightened and saluted him back. Philips dropped the salute, turned on his heel, facing the crowd, before he bellowed out "Company, Dismissed!" the group saluted before Steve and Bucky went up to meet Steven half way off the platform.

Bucky pulled up and proudly gave Steven a salute, and Steven gave him one back, before he pulled his Ada into a big hug.

"2nd Lt. Buchanan," he said and Steven grinned, "I never thought I'd get to see this day. I am so proud of you, Stevie." Steven buried his face in Bucky's shoulder. He pulled away and looked back to the Colonel with a grin.

"Colonel Philips, Sir," he said, "I'd like to make a formal request that my first assignment be with Captain Rogers unit." Philips huffed out a small laugh.

"Put it in writing, Lt," he said, "and I'll see what I can do. Odds are that you'll get put with him anyway, but it never hurts to make an official request."

Steven grinned and went to make his request official. Sure enough, the very next day Steven received his orders to report to his Commanding Officer, Captain Steven G. Rogers, for orders as his US Army Lt and second in Command of the Howling Commandoes, behind Major Falsworth. Bucky gave Steven a look that could make the most hardened soldiers quiver, before he marched right up to his son, forced him to attention, and pointed in finger at his chest.

"Steven, I love you," he said, "I will always love you, and just because you are a Lieutenant doesn't make you any less my son." Steven nodded quickly. "So you are to follow my orders to the letter, you are gonna give me a 'Yes sir' and, when I say yer to stay behind, yer not gonna argue with me, is that clear?" Steven nodded rapidly.

"Yes sir, Serge; crystal!" Bucky nodded sharply, and let out a relieved breath.

"Good," he said, "now let's get this show movin'." Steve smirked at the whole proceedings but pulled to two aside before he started the briefing.

"Steven," he asked, "what did the docs say about your growth and aging?" Bucky looked over at his son and searched his face for signs of age. Steven smirked.

"They said that I am fully matured, physically at least, and that the rapid aging and growth has stopped," he answered. "They don't know why. But I think it might have something to do with me being Half-Elvish, and that their growth and aging stops at physical maturity." Bucky let out a sigh of relief at hearing this, immensely glad that he would not out live his child by natural means.

"That's good," Steve said, "one less thing to worry about. Let's get this briefing started, so Dugan doesn't start another altercation with Monty because he's bored." Steven snickered and Bucky stifled a snort, before turning back to the briefing table and their latest mission.

Dugan looked up at the kid with a grin. Steve and Bucky smiled with sympathy, knowing Dugan was going to do a little bit of hazing.

"So," he started with a grin, "you got your codename yet."

"Codename?" Steven asked confused.

"Yeah," Morita said, "it's like a call-sign we use over the radios. We all got one; even your Pop's got one. So what's yours?" Steven thought for a minute, his face scrunched up in concentration, before a peaceful smile bloomed across his face.

"Just call me Knight."

TBC…

AN: Well that's it for the moment. Next comes a time jump. I don't know how much time has passed just that it is before D-Day. There's going to be some romance coming up for our beloved Sergeant. 80,000 words and climbing, and if you've made it this far, I can tell you it is about half way done.