Chapter Title: Seeking Answers
Author: Sam and Dani
Story: The Omega Trials: 04 of ?
Series: The Omega Rights (part two)
Setting: AU: Monday, July 27, 1931, Tuesday, July 28, 1931, and Tuesday, September 15, 1931: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America
Note: The anti-religious or Anti-cultural aspects of this story reflect an era over a hundred years ago. Please do not take these prejudices as indicators of anything more. These beliefs do not reflect those beliefs of the authors. Thank you.
xxx
Translations:
moja miłość - my love - Polish
wujek - uncle - Polish
Jakub - James - Polish
tak - yes - Polish
anioł - angel - Polish
anioły - angels - Polish
Polska - Poland - Polish
Mateusz - Matthew - Polish
Katolicki - Catholic - Polish
Żydowski -Jewish - Polish
Niebo - Heaven - Polish
homoseksualista - homosexual - Polish
Ameryka -America - Polish
Amerykański - American - Polish
syn - son - Polish
Sczcepan - Steven - Polish
Salomeja - Sarah - Polish
lekarz - doctor - Polish
lekarze - doctors - Polish
sperma - semen - Polish
leanbh - baby - Irish Gaelic
xxx
Setting: AU: Monday, July 27, 1931: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America
Bucky leaned into Steve's touch, letting his worried grey-blue eyes close. He took yet another trembling breath and lifted his mouth to meet Steve's, capturing the soft breath of the other boy. "I promise I'll always take care of ya, Stevie," he breathed into Steve.
Steve nodded, breaking the kiss but keeping close to the older boy. "I know. And I'll always be here for ya, Buck. You'll always find me at the end of the line."
A small sob tore from Bucky's lips, and he smiled shakily at his best friend.
The sound of the bedroom door opening had the startled boys jumping apart, flushing, but nothing could hide the guilty sight of semen covering both of them from chest to thighs. Tata stood there, looking sleepy and solemn in the beginnings of the dawn light. With a small, indecipherable nod, he turned and called "the boys are awake and talking. You check on Gracie, moja miłość. I'll see to the boys." With that he walked into the small room and shut the door firmly, yet quietly. Softly he padded across the floor in his bare feet and his one-piece suit of underclothing. Carefully, he began dipping Bucky's stack of cloths into the room-temperature water, squeezed out the excess, and handed each to Bucky, one by one.
Without a word, too stunned and uncertain to try to speak, Bucky accepted each cloth and passed every other one to Steve so they could clean up. He didn't know what to do to protect Steve. What they'd done had gone beyond practice kissing; it had been straight out queer to touch each other . . . to rub their intimate parts together so willingly . . . to cum together in such ecstasy.
Helping the thirteen year old blond to stand on still shaking legs, the smaller boy obviously trying to get his staggered breathing under control, Bucky turned to strip the bed, and found his father already doing the chore. Flushing even more, the fourteen year old brunet dropped his head and finished cleaning himself up, glancing to the side to make sure Steve didn't need help.
Steve offered a small, reassuring smile, though his vibrant blue eyes held as much worry and embarrassment as Bucky's own blue-grey.
After bundling the sheet neatly and placing it on the soap box chair, Tata looked at the homemade art pad opened to the lone drawing in the back, seeing the relaxed nudity of his son captured so precisely in Steve's beautiful style. The man didn't seem to react even to that, rather turning and moving back to the boys. He sank onto the end of the bare mattress and patted next to him. "Sit, boys."
They sank onto the bed, still nude, but neither made any move to pull on clothes. The pair merely waited for the recriminations of the middle-aged carpenter and jack-of-all-trades.
Finally, Tata sighed softly and asked "Have I told you of my wujek Jakub, who you were named for, Bucky?"
"No, Tata," the son answered, subdued, worrying if he should interrupt to explain that their shame started out with him helping Steve . . . then just kind of went further. Instead, the brunet said, "I didn't know you have an uncle James."
Tata nodded, a smile lighting his face, so much like Bucky's when he saw Steve after a hard day at school. "Ah, Jakub was beautiful! He was good and kind. He loved the children in the tiny village, tak? He would make them toys and tell them stories and watch over them when their busy mamas needed some time to think and rest. Everyone loved my wujek Jakub."
Knowing his father had a purpose for telling them this, Bucky asked, "Why don't you ever talk about him? Why haven't I met him?"
"Tak, let me tell you now." The man looked around his son's simple room and let out a long sigh. "The good Lord has many anioły . . ."
Bucky whispered "angels," as a clarification.
His father nodded, "many infants . . . to share the world with. And so he does, does he not?" He shrugged and smiled at Steve, who very much looked like the epitome of the European blond haired, blue eyed angel.
The smaller boy smiled back, flushing, already almost lost in the story.
"Well, sometimes the Lord has a baby anioł he wants to share with the world. Jakub . . . ah, Jakub was such a baby." Tata patted the hips of his underclothes as if patting the pockets of his pants, then stopped, as if realizing he wasn't dressed in pants. He shrugged again.
Bucky kept his hands loose on his thighs, paying close attention to his father's tale, but keeping an eye on his friend, as well. He still worried that Steve's semen revealed some illness they had yet to diagnose. As soon as Tata had finished his story, Bucky planned to sway the man's attention to the blond's health. He'd deal with their behavior, and the repercussions and even deeper questions, later.
Mr. Barnes's gentle voice continued. "Well, one day our good Lord says to the Anioł Gabriel, 'see this beautiful boy? This boy is kind and brave and good. He will do good things and teach the men of earth many things. I wish to send him to the earth to make it better. But, Anioł Gabriel, I need him to have a friend - - a friend who will love him and help him and protect him for the rest of their lives. He needs a very special friend, Anioł Gabriel. I want you to find another anioł baby and send them both to earth, born to humans, so they will meet and share their lives helping others and showing my goodness through their actions and words.' And the Anioł Gabriel, he agrees and goes to do the Lord's bidding, tak?"
Tata nodded and looked at the two teens; he seemed not to see their nudity. Clearing his throat, Tata said "And the mighty Anioł Gabriel, he sends Jakub to a small village in Polska to live with a newly married couple. But, what is this? Jakub, he is Katolicki . . . and Anioł Gabriel sends Mateusz to a Żydowski couple two or three villages away! How are these two to meet and be friends when they are so different and so far apart? Because, in those days, my boys, there are no motor cars to take you everywhere in a gasp of breath. You walk or ride the horse if it is not being used on the farm. And Katolicki and Żydowski do not live near each other or shop with each other or talk to each other. They are not friends."
Bucky translated "Catholic and Jewish", but confusion crossed his face, mirrored in Steve's. They shared a glance then looked back to George Barnes for his reasoning behind the convoluted tale.
Tata sighed and shrugged, "but what can you do? Anioł Gabriel, he knows his work, tak? The two boys are not much younger than you when they meet in the middle, at a street fair in a different village. And they know," Tata clapped his hands, making the boys jump at the sudden loud noise. "In their hearts they know they met before in Niebo and will forever be friends, tak? And so they travel often to meet and play together, and they grow into men, one Katolicki, one Żydowski. But they do not mind. They both love the Lord and that is where they leave it. They do not talk of religion, just life."
He nods as if there is a great lesson in that alone if the boys would see it. He offers his smile to first Bucky then Steve. But before either can puzzle through the enigma of the story, Tata continues. "Everyone who meets them loves them. They love Jakub for his gentle wisdom, care of children and animals, and his child's joy. They love Mateusz for his strong honor, his bravery, and his kindness to those who are weak and in need. Jakub is a farmer, like our family has ever been in Polska. And Mateusz is a doctor who helps the sick and injured."
Shuffling a bit on the bare mattress, Tata looked at the boys one by one once more, then he nodded as if certain they are listening. "Well, one day, when Jakub is not so old but no longer young, he goes to his friend Mateusz and tells him he is sad. He says he wants to share his love and joy with a child, but he has no wife to bear him an infant. And Mateusz, he is the cleverer, tak? Mateusz tells him that there are many orphans who need good loving fathers to raise them. He tells Jakub to take in an orphan. So Jakub says 'but I have never raised a child, and do not have a wife to help me do so.' Mateusz, he laughs and says, 'We are not stupid men, Jakub. Between us, we can figure out how to raise a boy. We were boys ourselves, were we not?' But Jakub says 'I work in the field and, after I cook and clean and tend the animals, I have no energy to guide a child in this great world.' And Mateusz asks him 'is that all? Well, I am able to heal people no matter where I live. So I will move in with you. It will add no burden for me to cook and clean at your house when I do so at mine as it is. I can tend the child in the day between my patients and you can tend him at night. He can learn to love animals and people. Is it not a perfect match?' And Jakub sees Mateusz's wisdom and agrees. So, Mateusz moves into Jakub's tiny home, and they ask the orphanage for a baby to raise and love."
Steve nodded, sure that the story had been heading in that direction all along.
Bucky, however, had long been familiar with his father's stories; he waited for the moral. There was ever a moral with Tata's stories. He didn't have to wait long.
"Now, the people who have always known and loved these men are shocked when one moves in with another and they offer a child a family." Tata sighed, voice sounding shakier, deeper. "They do not listen to the Lord's message of peace and understanding and love. Instead, they scream 'homoseksualista! You are a sin before the Lord! You are evil and should be made to suffer for your evil ways!" The townspeople will not listen to Jakub or Mateusz when they try to tell them that the Lord wants us to care for one another, especially an orphan with no other family. Instead, the people of the village hunt them down in the night. They kill Mateusz when he tries to protect Jakub. And they take Jakub to the village center and hang him until dead. Then they burn down Jakub's little house and say they had done the Lord's work."
A gasp escaped Steve, eyes wide in horror, and his hand shot to cover his mouth. "They were killed for wanting to help an orphan?"
Touching Steve's shoulder, Bucky cleared his thickening throat and corrected, "they were killed because the people thought they were queer, Steve."
"But they weren't queer," Steve muttered, looking down at his lap before raising his eyes to look at Bucky. "They weren't. They just wanted to help someone."
"Doesn't matter what they were, Stevie. It's what the others saw, right, Tata?"
Without clarifying either boy's claim, Tata nodded and added, "My father, Jakub's younger brother, saw this evil and feared it would come to him. So he took his wife and young daughter and came to Ameryka, where men are free and good and hard working and kind. And five days after they are allowed into this great city, bam!" Tata slammed his hands together once more, again startling the boys, causing Bucky to pull his hand from Steve's soft shoulder. His father seemed not to notice, claiming "I am born. So, I am an Amerykański in this great land of Ameryka."
He shook his head and leaned in towards the boys, voice lowering as if telling a secret, finally coming to the crux of his story. "But this Ameryka is not the land of the free, my boys. They are just men, like everywhere else. They are afraid and do not understand and many times do not hear the Lord speaking in their hearts. And so, you have a great love. You help each other and would die for each other. I can see it in your eyes." He nodded sagely.
Bucky looked as he felt, shocked by the understanding tone and the dire prediction. Steve glanced at his best friend, recalling that he had always felt like he would be forever friends with the brunet boy.
"But men?" Tata said, "they do not understand the love that is deep in the heart. They see the love on the surface and scream 'homoseksualista!' And so they will fear you and hate you and not let you tell them what is true from what is not. And so you must be careful, tak? Or you, too, will be killed like Jakub and his Mateusz."
Finally he nodded, as if satisfied with his words. Then he slapped his thighs and rose to his feet. "It is the way of people." Without explaining what his very sad story was about, Tata patted Steve's hair and placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You both get dressed now. I will walk Sczcepan home so I can tell his mother about this."
"What?" both boys gasped and protested, tears of worry and fear beginning in Bucky's eyes, as Steve shook his head, lifting his hands in a helpless gesture.
Bucky tried to explain. "Please, Tata, it was . . ."
But Tata shook his head firmly, smile ghosting away. "I saw what I saw, but I know what I know, syn. You help each other, tak? But for now, it is not your care of one another that must be spoken of to Salomeja." He gestured to Steve, alone, and shook his head once, just as firm as ever he could be, though surprise crossed his face as if he couldn't believe the boys would argue with him. "Of course she must be told! This can be a serious problem . . . or nothing at all. A man's sperma should be strong and thick and bright. Your mother will want to make sure you are not ill again, Sczcepan . . . or is it your sperma, syn, that looks like watered milk?"
Flushing in absolute surprise, Bucky responded in a soft, worried voice, "no, sir, it's . . . Sczcepan's . . ." Desperation rose once more and he asked, "what's wrong with him, Tata?"
Again George Barnes shrugged. "Maybe nothing. Who can say except a lekarz."
Bucky murmured, "doctor," for Steve's benefit, but Tata ignored his son and continued.
"I am a carpenter not a prophet. I will listen to the lekarze the good Lord saw fit to put on this earth. Come. If we hurry, she may be able to get you to a doctor today and the knowing will stop the fear sooner."
The man stood, gave the boys another soft smile, then turned and opened the door. "Do not keep me waiting, tak?" With that, he walked from the room, softly closing the door behind him.
xxx
Setting: AU: Tuesday, July 28, 1931: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America
Sarah Rogers held her son's hand as she walked steadily up the outside steps leading to the tenement house containing the first floor doctor's office she had been told of. With a sigh, Steve didn't even try to pull his hand away, despite being far too old to need guiding around. He saw the worry in his Momma's eyes, put there the day before when George Barnes had told her that Steve had a night sperma that looked like watered milk. Much to Steve's embarrassed relief, the man never mentioned that Bucky, too, had been covered in semen because the boys had brought each other to release.
Once they arrived at the doctor's door, Sarah knocked firmly and turned her worried gaze on her son. Her gentle voice sounded soft as she told him, "I know that this will not be an easy thing to discuss, leanbh, but tell him the truth. He is a specialist in men's problems of this nature."
Steve nodded, "yes, Momma." He knew that Sarah must have called in numerous favors to get Steve seen in just one day by a specialist. He determined to tell the truth, as always, so they could figure out everything. He knew he didn't want to expose Bucky, but he could admit he'd done something . . . queer . . . with someone. At least, if it helped and the doctor needed to know. Maybe the doctor would think Steve had just had an orgasm by touching himself, alone, and no mention of acting queer would come up.
A voice came from the other side of the door, faintly accented with what could be German, or at least something that sounded incredibly like it to Steve. "Yes, yes, come in."
Sarah let Steve's hand go and opened the door, following him into the surprisingly airy room. It had a standard bed in the center back, along with a sturdy wooden desk and several plain chairs. The screened windows had light curtains, and an electric fan whirred noisily, hanging from the ceiling.
The doctor, tall and thin and clean shaven, rose to his feet. He wore thick glasses with heavy dark rims; his clothing appeared neat and professional, covered by a crisp white butcher's apron, minus the normal butcher's bloody stains. The man nodded once. "Sarah Rogers. It is good of you to be early. We can start now. Is this the boy I was told of?"
Something very like pride and defiance warred in the woman's tones as she claimed, "Yes, this is Steven. Steven, this is Doctor Keilmeyer."
The doctor turned and offered his hand for Steve to shake. Liking the respect that displayed, Steve gave the warm hand a hearty shake with his own cold one. "I'm pleased to meet you, Sir."
With a nod and a small smile, the doctor gestured to a standing screen by the bed. "Please undress behind there, Steven, while I talk to your mother. Put on the robe you will find, open in the front, please."
Walking quickly behind the screen, made of a material called Chinese Silk according to something Bucky had said once, Steve spotted the startched white robe lying over the back of a chair set behind the privacy screen. With a small sigh for the ever familiar procedure, Steve undressed, folding his clothes onto the chair and neatly lining his shoes up below the piece of furniture, a straight-backed chair with circular embroidered back and round armrests. Straightening, Steve slipped the robe on, wondering why the doctor thought to mention keeping the opening in the front. Wasn't that were all robes opened?
Stepping around the screen and back into the main room, Steve cleared his throat, though he needn't have. Neither the doctor nor his Momma had been talking at all during his stripping. They sat beside the doctor's desk, one reading a thick ream of papers and the other staring at the mini blue flowers papered across the walls.
"I'm ready, Sir," Steve called and the doctor lowered his paperwork.
"Yes, please stand there. I will examine you first then we shall speak." The man walked over and pushed the robe open, studying Steve's penis and testes almost indifferently. After long minutes, he reached over a warm hand to feel the boy's genitalia. He weighed the boy's sack in one hand and asked him to cough. Then, finally, the doctor nodded and pulled the boy's robe shut. "Come, sit by my desk. We shall talk now."
The doctor looked steadily at the patient. "When was your first ejaculation? You know what that means, son?"
Steve felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment before nodding meekly, "I know what it means, Sir. It was two days ago"
"No, not most recent, the first?" the man clarified in a patient voice.
"Two days ago," Steve repeated, trying to look anywhere but where his mother sat. Sarah reached over with one soft, calloused hand and covered Steve's.
Doctor Keilmeyer looked over glasses at the tiny blond. "I don't think you understand the question, son."
The boy groaned, hating that he had to discuss this in the first place. "Yes, I do. And it was two days ago. It never happened before that."
Sighing the tall man turned to Sarah. "When did you start noticing night emissions?"
Sarah shook her head. "I never saw any evidence, but Steve's a very clean boy, doctor."
The doctor sighed again and rolled his eyes. "You may have seen something unusual when changing the sheets in the morning? Maybe having to do the laundry more often even if you didn't change the sheets."
"Nothing, sir. I saw nothing out of the ordinary." Sarah reaffirmed.
With a nod, as if having solved that problem, the doctor asked "how often has Steven been doing his own laundry?"
Sarah shook her head. "He doesn't. He doesn't know how, so he hasn't been cleaning up after himself that way."
The man looked at Steve a long time before asking firmly "So, this is the first time?"
"No, that was two days ago, Then it did it again yesterday morning," Steve paused for a moment, unsure how to continue, "I was at a friend's house, and he got worried when he saw it cause he said it didn't look right." The blond felt heat creep up his neck and bit his lip. That sounded wrong.
His mother made no comment, but she studied her son, lips pressed together in apparent worry . . . or disapproval?
Doctor Keilmeyer stared at Steve. He made a murmuring noise then notated on his file. Finally he asked "And do you manipulate your penis for pleasure?"
"No!" Steve answered quickly, his whole face turning red with embarrassment.
Seeming to jump on that, the man asked "So, does your friend manipulate your penis for pleasure . . . your pleasure."
Sarah drew in a sharp breath at the implication the doctor had just made, but still she said nothing.
"No!" Steve snapped. He took a deep breath before saying his next words, "I only did it to make the erection go away. And it was only yesterday. Never before that."
His mother studied Steve with worried eyes, but she didn't voice any opinion on his answer, keeping her hand on his in warm comfort and support.
With a deep frown, Dr. Keilmeyer looked up. "And how often has your penis become erect?" he asked.
Steve didn't think it was possible to blush as much as he had in the past few minutes, "Two times," he answered hesitantly, "once two days ago and once yesterday morning. It woke me up both times. Bucky said his Da says it's normal."
With a knowing sort of smile, the doctor murmured wordless again then asked, "And how old are you, son?"
Steve sighed, finally a question that didn't make him feel mortified to answer. "I turned thirteen three weeks ago."
Surprise crossed the man's face. He shook his head then, in a patronizing voice, he stated firmly, "You're nine, aren't you? Tell the truth, son."
Both mother and son straightened, neither one liking to be called a liar, and simultaneously exclaimed,"thirteen!"
Doctor Keilmeyer finally sat back and sighed, studying the woman and her son. Softly, he said "Well, there are several things which can cause this. Various illnesses, and I see you have had many over the years, Steven. Different kinds of medications for the illnesses, too, can create a similar result. Most often low spermatozoa count is a culprit. All can cause this watery semen and most often infertility."
"Infertility?" Steve muttered, his voice coming out just above a whisper. "You mean I won't be able to have any children . . . like at all?"
Sarah sucked in her breath, looking down at her son, worry and something akin to guilt in her eyes.
With a nod, Doctor Keilmeyer confirmed the dark suspicion. "It is a possibility." He seemed to see the pair's distress because he added softly, "however, there is some hope for you, son. Get dressed and we will talk further."
Letting her son's hand go, Sarah watched as Steve stood and walked behind the screen. Fortunately, his mother wasn't the type to talk with his doctors behind his back. Steve changed quickly into his street clothes, folding the robe neatly over the back of the chair, continually listening for, and not hearing, Sarah or the doctor talking. Finally, he returned and sank back onto the hard wooden chair in front of the doctor's desk.
The doctor made a note in his file then placed his pen carefully on the paper, neatly perpendicular to the top edge. He looked straight at Steven as he spoke. "The is a fertility doctor in Germany; he is a pioneer in sexual medicine, as well as the link between sexual health and the general healthiness of the human body. Among his many studies, he claims that a perfect specimen of humanity with be able to regenerate his own body faster and more efficiently than others . . . and that this will also eliminate any infertility problems he might have." He watched Steve as if expecting a question, but when Steve merely nodded his understanding so far, Doctor Keilmeyer continued.
"This Doctor Erskine studies human nature as well as fertility and healing. Recently he had presented some very interesting theories. In fact, specialist in the field have noted with skepticism these ideas, they have not dismissed his claims outright. They listen and weigh his words." Doctor Keilmeyer sat back, still staring at Steve, not speaking for a long moment.
Neither Steve nor Sarah broke the stillness. What could Steve say, really? He had no idea what his doctor seemed to be hinting at, or if the man would try to talk them into a very expensive trip to Germany to see this Doctor Erskine.
Finally, the man too of his glasses, polished them on a bit of cloth he pulled from his apron pocket, then put the glasses back on and tucked the cloth away. He looked back at Steve. "Erskine has determined that beyond the male and the female genders that humans have three specific sexual natures. He's using some sort of Greek lettering system for them, but to make it easiest to understand, I shall translate. The A nature is the dominant male who takes leadership and governs others. The B nature is the loyal, protective mate of the A nature. She will defend her mate and their young to death. And the C nature is everyone else who falls between those extremes, basically normal people."
Steve couldn't see how this classification could be important. True, no one had really put names to the different types of people, but it just seemed like this Erskine fella was merely talking personalities, not actual fertility medicine. So, Steve ventured a question. "Why does a dominant male and overprotective female rank differently than everyone else in . . ." he took a breath and almost whispered, "in sex or fertility?"
As if Steve had gotten to the very heart of the matter, Doctor Keilmeyer smiled. "Ah, that is a great question. The A and B natures are very fertile, Steven, and pregnancy is almost guaranteed. In fact, they have been known to be extra fertile with other people, or Nature C, as well. Fertility doctors wish to harness this fertility, the ovum or the sperm, so they can eliminate both infertility and unhealthy fertility."
"Unhealthy fertility?" Sarah finally broke in, earning an encouraging seeming nod from the doctor.
"Yes," he replied, voice enthusiastic. "Eliminate the possibility of genetic abnormalities rendered through the fertilization process. Cogenital disorders will still, unfortunately, be present for some years to come. But," he smiled happily, proudly, "if our research holds true, Doctor Erskine's theorem and all our work with it can eventually provide a means of preventing birth defects before they happen." The doctor placed his hands on his desk and beamed down on Steve as if the boy were the answer to some great question that had been worrying doctors everywhere. "Imagine a world, Steven, Mrs. Rogers, in which a baby who would have been handicapped or retarded is, instead, born healthy and free thinking? Ah, what a world that would be!"
Steve thought briefly of Gracie Barnes, with her oddly shaped eyes and ready smile and her difficulty remembering how to get home without Bucky's painted blue line. He nodded his understanding of the end results the doctor sought.
As if realizing Steve understanding, Doctor Keilmeyer went on, in a calmer voice. "Other doctors have taken Erskine's research a step further and have identified a fourth fertility nature: Nature D, the unmated. These are the ones who are infertile, not from disease or medicine or accident, but from birth . . . congenital infertility." He glanced from Steve to Sarah then back to Steve. "According to your medical record, and I assume this is the full record and nothing has been hidden from me, none of your illnesses or medications should have ended in any form of permanent infertility." He sat back as if his words explained everything.
With a slight frown, Steve ventured "does that mean you think I'm one of these D people? That I was born unable to have children?"
Sarah made a choking noise in her throat, but kept silent. Steve turned to his mother, seeing in her eyes the grief at such a loss. He took her hand with an encouraging, if wane smile. She squeezed back softly.
"Well, we will need to do Semen tests to know if you are actually infertile, Steven. The watery fluid could just be the product of his first emission, or from having his emissions so close together. Your testes might not have had time enough to produce more spermatozoa to fill in the semen. But, your late beginning for night emissions and erections is a sign of possible fertility issues." The doctor stood and nodded.
"I will need a sample of your semen right now, Steve, and another in a week. Another is required after two more weeks and a fourth a month from the third sample." His voice sounded clinical, now, almost detached. "I can compare the results under a microscope to see how much semen you produce. Naturally," he looked over the surprisingly small teenager, "you are discouraged from purposely pleasuring yourself. Of course, if you remain erect for too long, you may be required to do so, but until then you may try to control unwanted erections by concentrating on something revolting, say dead puppies or other such things."
Sarah made a choking noise at the recommendation, but before she could speak, and Steve could tell his mother wanted to say something, the doctor began again.
"Once we figure out if you are infertile, I can definitely discover how you became so, whether it was disease, medication, or if you are indeed part of the Nature D group: the genetically infertile."
Finally Sarah whispered, "how much for each appointment, Doctor?" She held her head high, proud, but admitted "we have little money for special tests that are not for something life threatening."
Surprise crossed Doctor Keilmeyer's lined face. He shook his head, lifting his hands in a placating manner, the movement causing his apron to gap on one side and revealing a very shiny, pretty brooch of silver in the shape of a grinning octopus. He lowered his hands, the apron moving back into place, and smiled down at Steve. "I would add to Doctor Erskine's valuable research, Mrs. Rogers. And, so, if you and your son agree to the tests, I will waive all costs." He stood and walked around the desk with a single piece of paper. "In fact, since it is in our best interest to keep our volunteers healthy, we would provide a weekly food allowance until he is out of school."
The exhausted looking nurse frowned, never having liked charity, but the shame warred in her eyes with the possibility of feeding her ill son better than ever she could on her own. She turned to Steve. "It is your body, Steve. What do you wish?"
Steve looked over to his mother, then the doctor, and then back to his Momma. He took a few moments to think about the offer before nodding his head once. "Yeah, I wanna do the tests. I wanna know what's wrong with me." And, he had some small hope that even if it lasted only two months, his mother wouldn't have to worry about feeding him.
Sarah nodded and turned. "May I read the paper, Doctor?" With a smile, the doctor seemed to relax and offered the paper to the worried mother. After she read it through, she nodded and quietly said "where do I sign?"
"Right here, Mrs. Rogers," the man stated and offered her a pen.
Doctor Keilmeyer turned to a large glass-fronted cabinet of various containers and tubes. He opened the case and pulled out a clear glass cup, closed the case meticulously then turned and handed the cup to Steve. He looked over the signed paper briefly then nodded to Steve. "Go behind the screen and touch yourself for pleasure, Steven. I need you to ejaculate in this sample cup for me. Your mother and I will wait in the hallway so you can be private." The man's voice sounded soft and understanding of Steve's embarrassment. The doctor ushered Sarah from the room, leaving Steve alone.
The boy slipped behind the screen and pulled off his clothes once more, not wanting to get them messy. With a frown, he looked at the specimen cup and down to his very limp penis. He didn't even begin to know how to make it erect. Sighing, Steve closed his eyes, carefully grasped his member, and thought . . . of Bucky. He recalled how Bucky had looked, all sleepy eyed and flushed, as he had reached over to stroke Steve's hardness.
The imagery worked, and Steve's erection began to grow. Well, he didn't have to tell the doctor how he'd pleased himself, right? So, pushing away the guilt for using his best friend's image, Steve let memories of the morning before wash over him and guide him. Soon, he was cumming in sharp jerks, the cup held firmly over the tip to catch the thin liquid streams. And, just as he'd known and prevented the morning before, a scream built. But this time Steve was unable to bite his arm to keep quiet; the scream of release pulled from him, sounding almost triumphant in its proud declaration of completion.
Steve flushed bright red as he heard the office door open.
Within another ten minutes, Steve and Sarah were on the street, heading back to their apartment, Steve having been signed up for experimental fertility research in return for weekly cheques and some health benefits. Sarah held her head high as they walked. This time the pair did not hold hands.
When their tenement came into view, a tall brunet boy stood up from the steps. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, clear worry written across his face. "Stevie? How'd it go?" Bucky asked in a rush.
Shrugging, Steve tried to look nonchalant. "It went alright. Doctor has to do more tests."
"But it's not super serious right now? You ain't real sick and gonna need to stay in bed or anything?" Bucky pulled his hands from his pockets, still clenched in worried fists, studying his friend, trying to see if he could tell what the doctor looked for in Steve.
The blond smiled slightly, "Nah, Buck. Nothin' like that. They just gotta get some more tests done before they can know anything for sure."
Bucky frowned, still studying Steve's face, his eyes. "Do they have any idea what it might be, Steve?"
Steve lowered his eyes and kicked a small rock, wishing that he was talking about anything else at the moment. "I mean, yeah. They got some. But nothin' for sure yet."
Softly, Sarah interrupted the boys. "Let's go inside, out of the heat." She opened the main door and gestured the boys in before her, looking around as if checking that they hadn't been overheard.
The brunet followed his blond friend, worry radiating from the older boy. He quickly grabbed at Steve's arm and whispered, "I didn't hurt you, Stevie, did I?"
The smaller boy looked around, making sure no one could see or hear them, before answering in a quiet voice, "No, Buck. Ya' didn't hurt me."
Bucky nodded and pulled the other boy into a quick hug. "Well, just you get better, okay, Punk?" He didn't push for Steve to tell what was wrong, figuring he'd open up eventually. He always did.
Steve grinned, "Whatever you say, Jerk."
Bucky flung an arm around his best friend and walked with him up the stairs, grinning and feeling lighter than he had all morning.
xxx
Setting: AU: Tuesday, September 15, 1931: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America
After that first appointment, Sarah hadn't been able to come to any more. Instead, since the doctor agreed to appointments in the afternoon, Bucky had accompanied Steve to the sessions. The older boy never asked what kind of tests were being done, though the doctor's office had a discrete sign proclaiming "Doctor Keilmeyer, Men's Health" on the door. Instead, still not pushing his friend for answers to his silent questions, Bucky waited patiently on a chair placed outside the office door, letting Steve see his newest doctor in private.
Fortunately for Steve, the doctor had offered him a towel to keep in his mouth for his sample taking . . . to mask the boy's screams. He had explained at the second appointment, when Sarah was no longer there to make Steve self-conscious, that screaming was a healthy and normal reaction to the body's sexual release. He pointed out that some people, Steve had thought of Bucky, could keep quiet, but others were quite vocal in their pleasure.
This time when Steve handed over the specimen cup, yet again containing a watered milk-colored substance, the teen knew, deep down, what the doctor would find. Steve had determined by the second test that he couldn't have kids. After all, he'd been so sick his whole life, why should he think this would be any different? Only of small consolation was the fact that Steve wouldn't be passing on his sick genes to anyone else. But an even bigger problem loomed over him: how could he honestly marry a dame if he couldn't give her babies?
The doctor smiled softly at the boy, accepting the specimen. "Thank you, Steven. I will test this and compare results and if you can come back next week, I should have answers for you."
Steve knew not to ask anything right then. It had been explained, rather hurriedly, that the spermozoa would survive only a short time out of the body, so the tests had to be performed immediately. The boy nodded and slipped his felt hat onto his pale hair then let himself from the office.
His best friend stood with a worried smile, as he did every appointment over the last few weeks. "It go okay, Stevie?" he asked, worried by Steve's frown.
Steve nodded and shrugged. "Not much to go on until the tests come back."
Surprisingly, the doctor pulled open his door and called out, "Steven, I have preliminary results for you."
The boys turned, shocked, and waited, Steve reaching out unconsciously to grab his friend's hand. Bucky didn't let him down, squeezing gently back. "Yes, sir?" Steve asked, breathlessly.
Nodding, Doctor Keilmeyer smiled. "As we discussed earlier, you do have the condition we spoke of." Thankfully he was discreet enough not to blurt out the condition's name in the hallway or in front of Bucky, but the man made no move to bring Steve back into the privacy of his office. Instead, he continued, "However, based on your medical history and research I've been doing these last two months, I can safely assume you are indeed part of Nature D group." This seemed to please the doctor greatly and he rocked on his heels. "So, next week, we will begin discussing how this will help in the research we are performing for your condition. We can even, hopefully, begin trials in a few months, if you are still amenable to further research in this field. We have heard great things, great progress, in Doctor Erskine's preliminary trials. I am anxious to begin, myself, to contribute to this very valuable research and you are the only one of your kind I have come across. Please think carefully before coming back next week." And the doctor closed the door, his footfalls sounding excited even through the muffling barrier.
Bucky whirled Steve around, frowning softly, searching his best friend's eyes with worry. "Condition? Nature D? What's he mean, Steve? What's wrong with you?" Bucky kept his voice to a whisper, not wanting to telegraph Steve's business to anyone who might be near, but he felt too worried to wait until they got to his friend's apartment.
Sighing, Steve shrugged and leaned in close, knowing he had to . . . no he wanted to tell Bucky. If medicine had any hope of curing this problem, or even using his results to help stop problem births in the future, Steve needed to be a part of that, and keeping Bucky in the dark would just be a secret that tore at them. Steve never kept secrets from Bucky. The younger boy hadn't even liked keeping this secret for almost two months. So, he cupped his hand around his mouth, directing the sound to Bucky's ear but blocking it from escaping to anyone else. "I was born infertile, Buck." He pulled back to look nervously at his friend.
Turning an incredulous gaze down at his best friend, Bucky rocked back on his heels. "Hunh," he said. Then he nodded and said again "Hunh." Relief flooded the older boy, followed by a wave of guilt. Bucky understood that Steve would be heartbroken not being able to give his future wife children, but still, infertility wouldn't kill the weak, skinny blond. And to Bucky, Steve's life held precedence over any possible children in the future. He held back his smile upon seeing the worry in Steve's eyes.
"Didn't this doctor say they had good results so far? Means he's working on a cure, right? So, we keep coming back until he can fix you. Come on, your Mam said I can cook dinner for you tonight since I've been learning, and I wanna practice my meatloaf on you." Bucky slid his arm companionably around Steve's shoulders, noting the relief flooding his friend's eyes, and tugged him along.
Steve nodded, knowing that Bucky had to be right. Someday, Doctors Keilmeyer and Erskine would find that cure . . . and the cure for congenital birth defects, too. Steve just had to continue the tests, and possibly samples, to do his part to help. He flushed at the memory of how exactly he managed to bring himself to release each time; he didn't have to tell Bucky about that. Not that Bucky would mind, Steve felt certain . . . they still kissed in private after all, but somehow, telling his best friend that he could only get erect if he thought of Bucky laying decadently across his bed seemed . . . wrong. Determinedly pushing away the negative idea, Steve grinned up at Bucky and said "if you poison me, Momma will skin you, Buck."
"Yeah?" Bucky grinned down at him. "Who says I'll poison ya, punk? I've gotten better since last time."
"We'll see about that, jerk," Steve teased back, feeling just a bit of peace settle over him: with Bucky by his side, nothing could touch him . . . even fertility natures and crazy tests.
xxx
Continued in Chapter Five: School Exams