1943 -

Of course Steve knew about mines. They learned about them in basic training and it was difficult to be in the army for even one day without seeing the damage a mine could do. However, all the learning and knowledge behind mines goes completely out of the window when you trigger one.

In the millisecond you have before you explode your brain immediately jumps straight to, "Oh shit!"

The next thing you know you're either dead or wake up in or on your way to a field hospital. That's if you didn't bleed out in the minutes after the explosion. But one of the worst things about mines is that they were incredibly difficult to spot amongst the grass, mud or foliage which made it a death trap for newbies and experienced soldiers alike. It was impossible to outsmart a landmine. This was a fact that Captain Steve Rogers found out very quickly after he heard the familiar click of a mine detonator.

—

The backpacks were heavy on their backs, stocked with supplies and water. Steve could hear that further back in the unit someone's pack was making a slight noise that echoed each step. It distracted him for a moment; perhaps it was a button colliding with a tin mug strapped to the outside of the bag to save room, maybe it was the dog tags of a fallen soldier clicking against others man's on his chest. Steve shook his head and forced himself to concentrate but it was hard in the heat of summer with sweat dripping down his spine. Perhaps if he had had a better night's sleep or drank more water today then it wouldn't have happened but whatever led him to the mine must have had a plan for him. Maybe, one day, he'd even call it destiny.

The trees around them rustled in the light summer breeze which, while pleasant against his warm cheek, made it harder to listen out for enemies nearby. His unit followed closely, copying his lead. He had successfully navigated the majority of this French forest without being spotted or fired at which meant that he was counting the mission as 99% completed. Just the last stretch before they are in the clear which led to their camp. He could almost taste the cots and fires around the corner.

Maybe it was his eagerness which was his downfall. All he knew was that one minute he was leading his men through the trees and the next he could barely breathe through the all-over body pain.

He hadn't opened his eyes yet as the rocking of the stretcher jarred his body, sending shots of increased pain through him. The panicked voices of the men saturated the usually quiet air. For some reason it brought to mind a swarm of bees gathering in defence of their hive with their buzzing being extraordinarily loud.

He could hear a groan escape from his lips without him being aware he made it. Some of the stretcher barers bent down to be closer to his head and one of them murmured,

"Hold on, Cap! Not far now. They'll set you right." The voice was young and optimistic but Steve could hear the doubt trying to break through. They thought he was going to die. He thought he was going to die.

He wasn't dumb; he was going to die and that knowledge didn't scare him at all. He'd had enough sleepless nights to ponder his death and the select number of friends he had probably wouldn't even notice him gone. Except maybe Bucky. A stab of guilt wracked through him as he though of leaving Bucky behind. He hoped that somehow Bucky would be informed of his passing.

He could hear the squad squawking around like headless chickens and, while for many of them it was only their first time out, he wanted to believe he'd taught them better. He was about to think it through more when one of the men carrying the stretcher stumbled, despite Steve being light, and a jolt ripped through Steve's leg. That gave him the first opportunity to identify the area with the most pain even though every single part of his body was on fire. Something had happened to his leg.

It took a few minutes more before they broke out of the forest and picked up pace as they headed towards the hospital tent. He could hear people they passed by mumbling his name or calling out to him. Captain Steve Rogers was a popular man on base and everyone knew him or had heard of his heroics, despite his small stature, so it was quite a scene to see him being hauled into base on a stretcher.

The noises of the medic tent finally broke through the din and he heard nurses, glass bottles and pained cries. He'd been in to visit plenty of times but, luckily, never for anything himself.

A nurse hissed as he was brought to her. Her inhale of breath didn't reassure Steve in the slightest.

"This is going to be a messy one." Her Scottish accent was somewhat soothing to him, "Can you open your eyes, dearie?"

It immediately dawned on him that he hadn't opened his eyes yet due to them being scrunched up in pain. It hadn't even occurred to him to attempt to do so on the journey in. With what felt like a Herculean effort, he wrenched his eyelids apart to peer up at the woman.

Resting a gentle hand on his blond hair, she soothed, "We'll see what we can do for you." But it didn't sound promising.

She left to fetch water and towels to mop him up while they waited for the doctor to come and make his assessments. It stung as she wiped away the majority of the debris and softly she apologized every time he took a sharp inhale of breath.

"What's wrong, nurse?" A voice he didn't recognise approached.

"A mine... His leg."

The doctor sounded shocked despite all of the horrors he saw on a daily basis, "If that's what you can call that..."

It was in that instant that Steve knew that today had been his last day with both his legs. However, he also knew that he was lucky it hadn't been his last day alive.

—

They had moved him to a larger hospital for the amputation. A fact which Steve briefly forgot when he was coming around from the anaesthetic so panicked greatly for a minute.

He was in pain but he didn't feel much different physically. The fog in his brain made it harder for him to work out what had happened and the men on beds either side of him were both asleep and not a nurse in sight. He swallowed thickly but his dry throat made the action uncomfortable.

Someone most have noticed him moving as a nurse rushed over by his side from the nurses station,"Glad to see you're wake, Captain Rogers." She lifted a glass of water to his lips, "You're surgery has gone well but we'll have to wait and see for signs of infection."

He nodded despite his brain barely taking in her words. Her brief visit ended quickly as another patient called out to her in pain. It would have been a perfect time for him to reflect on the surgery but drugs were still pounding around his system so he hadn't quite realised that he was now an amputee. Besides, the drugs eased him into a fitful sleep after only a few more heartbeats anyway.

—

He didn't remember being moved but when he woke up next he was in a different room and it must have been night as darkness shrouded his surroundings. The soldier, heart beating heavily, peered into the darkness as an uneasy feeling in his subconscious told him that something lurking in the blackness had awoken him. Eyes struggling to adjust, he squinted.

"Who's there?" His voice rasped due to lack of both water and use. Without fully realising it, he suddenly knew he'd been asleep for much longer than he thought.

The inky darkness moved until the stranger was close enough to form a silhouette against the background. He was too drugged up to fully react how he should so just continued frowning at the figure.

"Who are you? What do you need?" Shockingly, his voice was somehow confident.

An accented voice replied, "Captain Rogers. It's not what do I need but more, what do you need?"

"I don't need anything." It came as an automatic response to the man. The accent twisted a slight sense of anxiety into Steve's stomach and the sudden idea of him being assassinated by the enemy popped into his head. He swallowed thickly.

"You've been in a coma for 2 weeks after your surgery caused an infection in your... leg. You're body is weak and without help you could easily die. We both know your real track record when it comes to health isn't the best." The man informed him easily.

Steve's eyes darted down to his right leg. Whole body freezing, he stared at the empty space where his lower leg would be. He couldn't breath as he attempted to move his leg and hissed between his teeth at the pain. He looked up at the stranger.

"Who are you?" Pressing, he was determined to get an answer: Friend or foe?

"Dr. Abraham Erskine, at your service. I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve and I have a proposition."

Steve was rightly suspicious, "What is it?"

The doctor then began to explain his new invention: a super soldier serum. In depth, he explained its potential and what the good doctor hoped it would achieve. There was great stress placed on its restorative abilities and how it will completely transform Steve's body and remove any trace of the infection currently threatening his life. As the doctor talked Steve drug addled mind slowly grew clearer and he could follow easier.

"And my leg?" He asked when the mention of infection reminded him of his new stump.

Erskine shrugged, "Honestly, I can't tell what it'll do. It may come back but it may not. Are you willing to wear an advanced prosthetic on the battlefield, just in case?"

Despite the doctor's uncertainty regarding the re-establishment of his leg, Steve knew he'd jump at any opportunity of potentially getting his leg back and getting back to the war with his men. He'd felt bad leaving them. Besides, he had just been told that his body was still fighting a possible fatal infection so surely his sickly body could use all of the help it could get.

"Why me?" Steve asked, looking up at the doctor.

The man smiled slightly, "Your reputation precedes you. You don't think we hear of what happens on the field? No, many talk of Steve Rogers and all you've accomplished. Your resistance to this infection and all your sickness before display your body's strength and preservation. We need a leader who knows what's its like to be the little guy. We need you."

Within 24 hours, Steve was being prepared to undergo another procedure but this time with the hope of recovering what he'd lost or at least maintaining his life. They had to speed through the beginning stages as the infection in his leg was fighting against them.

Before he knew it Steve was being lowered into a casket-esque contraption with no promise he'd even make it out alive.