Chapter 26

Riviera Maya - Dusk

20.6746° N - 87.0231° W

The S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet was six miles out from the Grand Velas Riviera Maya resort and climbing fast, putting distance between the exclusive, wealthy refuge and the team. The mission was officially a success, but no one on the jet felt like celebrating.

World Security Councilwoman Hawley was among the hostages taken at the exclusive resort. The ransom demand for 1 billion dollars came in at 5 A.M. SHIELD scrambled the team within the hour. On the way down the plan was set and everyone knew his or her role. There was light talk and banter among the S.T.R.I.K.E. Team but it was dulled by the hum of the Quinjet. A small jolt went through the members of the STRIKE team that seemed to signal their descent so each individually made their last minute preparations for the mission.

Natasha leaned over and showed Steve a headline from the Society page of the Washington Post speculating about him and Katherine Pierce on her phone. There was a picture of the two of them dancing at the charity ball. She raised one eyebrow and smiled as she gently nudged him. He gave her his most stern look, but this only made her smile more. She leaned back to her own spot and moved on to something else, but the smile was still on her face. Everyone had their own way of dealing with the stress before a mission and Steve already knew Natasha was different then most people.

The 'terrorists' as they had been classified were the Zapatista Army of National Liberation, a far left socialist political and militant group seeking indigenous control over local resources, especially land. Poor people seeking land reform didn't seem that radical to Steve but the taking of hostages changed all that. The briefing said they were doing it to gain attention for their cause, but that didn't justify putting people's lives in danger. He could sympathize with their cause yet not agree with their methods.

The wild card in all of it was a villain named Mr. Hyde. He was helping the group and seemed to be central to the taking of the resort. The billion dollars was probably his idea, SHIELD speculated. Mr. Hyde's strength, stamina, durability, and resistance to physical injury were all increased to superhuman levels. He had fought Daredevil, Spiderman and even Thor. He was going to be a problem that Steve knew he would have to deal with.

The plan was good and the goal was to minimize the loss of life. Get in, get the hostages to safety, neutralize the rebels and Hyde and get out, it should have been a simple mission. Things had started to go sideways right after they landed. Someone must have tipped the rebels off because they seemed ready for the STRIKE team and managed to hold them off on the first assault.

Steve had jumped out of the plane about half a mile out and swam to the beach. He was going for the element of surprise and hoped to take Mr. Hyde out quickly. Natasha's assignment was to get to Councilwoman Hawley and get her to safety. It was a good plan, at least on paper. It was progressing a little slower than was hoped for, but it was working.

As the Quinjet continued to put distance between it and the resort, Steve felt the aches and pains of his fight with Mr. Hyde. The man was a monster and strong. It wasn't that Steve intentionally dove headfirst into danger but more than he thought he could minimize the danger to others by doing it. Taking on Hyde by himself meant cutting him off from the other rebels and also limiting the risk to the team.

Steve looked up and let his eyes move over the STRIKE team. There was none of their usual bravado, only a rather haunted and wounded look in their eyes. You wouldn't know the mission had been a success by looking at them, although like every victory, Steve thought, it came at a cost.

He glanced down at the tablet with the updated information the flight crew had given him as the team came back to the Quinjet. He wanted to try and understand what just happen. He scrolled back and forth, going over it again and again but continuing to return to one thing.

Ghost Rider.

Steve remembered first hearing the sound of a motorcycle during his fight with Hyde and not really paying that much attention to it. SHIELD hadn't briefed him on Ghost Rider and he only learned his name this morning, but he knew he wouldn't soon forget it or him. Man or demon, he didn't know what he was other than something out of a nightmare.

Scanning through the pages again, Steve took in all the information and tried to make sense of it, but as he looked around at the team, he wasn't sure he had any answers. Even back in the war Steve had seen his share of fantastic things, including Red Skull, but this felt different. Again glancing at the STRIKE team he didn't have the words to help them deal with this. They were a team and as the leader it was his job to get them through this. Returning to the ship he'd tried to reach out to some of them but they rebuffed his attempts.

The sad realization slowly hit him while they worked as a team they weren't a team. It became clear Steve was always Captain American in all their eyes. As he thought about it, not one of them had ever called him Steve. It was always Cap or Rogers. Even Natasha, the person he was probably closest too, rarely called him Steve. In a way he was more of an outsider than he'd ever been, even before the serum hadchanged his life.

It hadn't always been like that. During the war the Howlin' Commandos weren't just a team, they were friends. He was just Steve to them. He might have amazing abilities and be the leader, but they had a commonality. They were the children of the first wave of a global culture. They shared many of the same experiences, from the Depression to movies and music. They had the same touchstones and references. Dugan, Jones and Morita, all the guys treated him with as friend, a brother in arms. They had a bond that was still there.

And then there was Bucky

Even when it seemed the whole world was against him, he had Bucky. He was more than a brother and Steve doubted he'd be alive if it wasn't for him.

Brooklyn – 1932

The world can be cruel when it perceives you as different or weak. Even children learn this lesson early. A 12 year old stands up for another who's being bullied despite the fact the 12 year old is overmatched. Running has never been an option. A variety of ailments would suck the oxygen from those young lungs after only a short distance.

A cardboard box that was discarded after the new washing machine inside it was delivered quickly transforms into something else. The 12 year old is dumped inside by the bullies. The sides are higher then the 12 year old's small frame. After a few moments more kids arrive to watch and laugh as the cardboard box becomes a trap. There is seemingly no escape as each time the 12 year old tries to stand the box is shook by the others and the small boy losses his footing. The few times he lunges for the edge of the box, a fist knocks him back down. The taunts and laughs fill the air in the small dark alley.

The worst part for the 12 year old is that among the tormentors the one he stood up for has joined them. The 12 year old is all alone. He's not like the others, he's different and the cruelty that brings can be seen around the lip of the box that traps the 12 year old. As the lack of oxygen seems to sap the last bits of the 12 year old's fight he slips down to the bottom of the box and hides his face away from them all. They won't get the satisfaction of seeing his tears.

The 12 year old doesn't know how long the nightmare has gone on and doesn't notice as first that the laughter has stopped. A hand reaches out to grab the 12 year old's arm but he pulls away in defiance. A moment passes and then the side of the box is torn apart and the 12 year old finally looks up through tear stained eyes.

"Bucky?"

"What did I tell you about tilting at windmills, punk?" Bucky says with a smile as he offers his young hand.

"You read one book and I'm never going to hear the end of it, am I?,' the 12 year old jokes, taking his friend's hand. "You know I wasn't going to back down. They were getting tired, I had them right where I wanted them."

"Sure you did, Steve, sure you did."

Washington D.C. – 7:30 A.M.

St. Patrick's Catholic Church at 619 10th St NW

Since the mission Steve had a desire to experience something familiar. This led him to church. He was at best a lapsed Catholic, but his mother had been very traditional. Thus Steve had gone to Catholic school, St. Agnes and Mass growing up. Pretty much everyone in the neighborhood went there. It was immigrants, Irish, Italian and Polish that made up the majority. Being first generation and not exactly welcome, they all looked for something familiar, just like Steve was doing now. The church wasn't just a place of worship, it was a haven and community center for strangers in a strange new land.

The Mass was said in Latin back then, so it didn't matter what your primary language was or where you were from, it was always Latin. As Steve slipped into one of the back pews, he instinctively made the Signum Crucis or Sign of the Cross. Even after all these years, the words the nuns had drilled into him came back.

In nomine Patris, et Filii,
et Spiritus Sancti.
Amen.

Steve sat back and listened, as he glanced at the others at the service. There were nine others and they were all up there in years. Absently, Steve thought they probably were closer to his real age them any of his teammates. Hearing the liturgy in English was an odd experience for him. Latin had been basically a dead language even back when he was young, but it seemed to add something, a weight or mystery to the whole proceeding. Hearing it in English just made it sound like someone reading out of a book, one they would repeat the same reading again next year at this same time.

Like so many other things since he'd come out of the ice, this just seemed like an echo from a long ago past that still felt to recent to him. Getting up Steve silently made the Sign of the Cross again and made his way out. Perhaps if he'd stayed and got to know the others he would have found some sense of community, but it wouldn't be the community he remembered or wanted. He would just be trying to recapture something he'd already lost.

Brooklyn – 1938

St. Agnes' gymnasium had been transformed in a dance hall. The sound of Benny Goodman's latest hit, Goody-Goody spilled from the PA system while the kids from the neighborhood did their best to dance under the ever watchful eyes of Father Callahan and the sisters, especially Sister Mary Margaret, the mother superior of the nuns. She carried a wooden ruler with metal tips to make sure the young couples dancing were doing so at a respectable distance from each other.

Bucky had already felt the sting of that ruler several times for dancing just a little too close with his date. His date hadn't minded but Sister Mary Margaret most certainly did. He was trying to have a good time but one eye was always on the lookout from that ruler. Somehow the ancient nun knew just how to smack you with it so that metal tip brought maximum sting. Even at her advanced age she still moved as quietly as a cat and would just seemingly appear out of nowhere to make sure no one was having too good a time. Bucky had to admit the pretty girl he was dancing with might have caused him to be a bit less diligent in looking out for Sister Mary Margaret, but a guy has to have his priorities.

"Ow!"

She got him again with that ruler.

"Mr. Barnes," Sister Mary Margaret said, "Why do I always seemed to be reminding you of the rules?"

"Sorry, sister, I guess I just got caught up in the music,' Bucky offered with his most innocent smile.

"Don't try that black Irish charm on me, James Buchanan Barnes, "the sister replied. "I've known you all your life, so it won't work. Behave or else, Mr. Barnes."

For good measure, the sister gave him another tap with the end of the ruler before walking away.

"Right on the funny bone,' Bucky groaned. He gave his arm a shake as the painful tingling ran up and down it.

"That's what you get for trying to take advantage of me, Bucky,' his date teased. "Even the sister knows about your reputation."

"I was framed, I tell you, framed,' Bucky joked.

"Uh-huh, that's not what I hear."

"I can't help if people talk, can I?" Bucky asked with a smile. "They're probably just jealous cause I'm dancing with the prettiest girl here."

His date blushed and didn't immediately reply, but did move a little closer to him. Bing Crosby's Pennies From Heaven came over the speakers.

"Oh, I love this song,' Bucky's date said, moving a little closer to him still. He leaned back to look in her eyes.

"You enjoy watching me get hit with that ruler, don't you?" He asked with a smirk.

She didn't reply, but there was a mischievous smile on her lips as they continued to dance.

As they swayed to the popular tune, Bucky let his eyes move over the gymnasium. The glee club had decorated it with paper snowflakes and streamers trying to turn it into a winter wonderland, as that was the theme, but the basketball hoops and worn grey wrestling mats were a little too prominent to really pull it off. It was nice though, a little respite from the world if only for a night.

It was the height of the Great Depression and things were tough for everyone, but especially for the people in these immigrant neighborhoods. Jobs and money were scarce. Most people were just scraping by, yet they believed it when President Roosevelt said better days were right around the corner. In the meantime these first generation immigrants were pulled together and did their best to help each other out. It was just what you do, looking out for the other guy.

Bucky's eyes stopped on a small figure leaning against the pushed back bleachers just out of the main lights, Steve. The two of them had met when they were six or seven and had been best friends ever since. When someone in Bucky's family got sick, they didn't have the money for a hospital so Mrs. Rogers would come over and help, as she was a nurse. Steve's dad had died before he was born, but Mrs. Rogers was doing her best to provide for them. When things got tight for Mrs. Rogers and Steve, Bucky's parents would do what they could to help.

Mrs. Rogers and Steve weren't the most popular in the neighborhood. That she was a working, single mother and hadn't remarried shocked a lot of people. It went against traditional social norms and most didn't like it. Bucky remembered overhearing his Ma asked Mrs. Rogers about it. She said the reason she hadn't remarried was because she'd already met the love of her life, Steve's dad.

As for Steve, it was the illnesses. They seemed to linger over him all the time. It was the 1930s and dying from a whole host of diseases was a very real thing. The polio scares alone would close down a school and the family afflicted would be quarantined. People were afraid, as it was for all practical purposes a death sentence if you got it. The stuff that Steve always seemed to be coming down with scared people and they all seemed to be weary of him. Even Bucky's parents were concerned about Bucky and his younger sisters being around Steve too much in case they'd catch what he had.

Bucky had never worried back then; as Steve always seemed to bounce back each time he got sick. Since they were kids they used to go out exploring the city together. Steve was fearless that way and as much trouble as they used to get in, he always seemed to find a way to get them out of it. They were as close as brothers, in and out of each other's apartments all the time.

What worried Bucky now was since Steve's mother had died, he didn't seem to be bouncing back. He didn't know what all was really wrong with Steve, illness wise, but his mom's death had hit him hard. Ever since she'd been diagnosed with tuberculosis things had been going down hill for both of them. Mrs. Rogers had tried to continue working, but the chronic coughing, shortness of breath, weight loss and fatigue had just not allowed it. The hospital had tried to be nice about it, but they had to let her go, as they were worried about their patients. That meant there wasn't any money coming in.

Steve had gotten a job, but with his own health problems it was hard to find anything he could actually do to make enough to pay all their bills. The parish had stepped in and tried to help, but it was mostly Steve taking care of his mom and trying to make ends meet. People were scared of catching tuberculosis so it seemed to isolate them even more. Bucky's family tried to help as much as they could, but things were tight for them as well.

Steve was still the fighter he always was, still confronting bullies, but Bucky could see him fading. He didn't know what to do for his best friend besides worry. Bucky had promised to be there for him 'till the end of the line', but he was starting to fear it was going to be sooner rather than later.

"Bucky, you're not looking at another girl, are you, while you're here with me?" His date asked, bringing him back from inner thoughts. "Should I be worried?"

"Who would I be looking at?" Bucky replied. "I'm already dancing with the prettiest girl here."

'Just remember that,' she said with a smile, moving a little closer to him.

"Mr. Barnes!"

"Ow!" Bucky groaned as Sister Mary Margaret go him again with her ruler. His date giggled a bit as he shook his stinging arm.

Washington DC – 9:00 A. M.

Steve had been out running as the sun came up. It was usually quiet at that time of morning so it was a good way to just run and not think of anything. He usually altered the routes he ran daily, so he could see more of the city, but today he was meeting Katherine Pierce for coffee at Dolcezza at the Hirshhorn on 7th and Independence, which was right by the Lincoln Memorial.

There were a few people out jogging around the reflecting pool. Steve briefly scanned each of them as he ran. His attention lingered on a young black man wearing sweats that had a military insignia on them. Even without the insignia, the way he carried himself said military. Something about the way he ran drew Steve's attention. It took a moment but then he recognized it, it was a routine for him. He didn't check his watch or wrist bracelet to see his time, steps or heart rate; he just jogged up and back as if he'd done it a thousand times before. There was a calm to his expression as he moved and Steve wondered if this was a way for him to get away from things just like it was for Steve.

A smile came to Steve's lips as he briefly thought about engaging the young man. Maybe just run by him and say something like "on your left ' to see if he could get a reaction. From just the impression Steve got from watching, he had a sneaking feeling he would. Friday had been on him to meet new people, he thought, but quickly dismissed the idea. He was having coffee with Katherine Pierce and didn't want to be late. He had some questions he hoped she could answer.

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