Time flies by in the yellow and green
Stick around and you'll see what I mean
There's a mountaintop that I'm dreaming of
If you need me you know were I'll be

-Shotgun; by George Ezra

Melanie watched as Oliver tried interacting with their mother. He was trying his best, but it was difficult for both of them. Joni was physically and emotionally exhausted, and Melanie could tell her half-brother was getting frustrated by what was unfolding in front of him. It was understandable, the level of exasperation that Oliver was feeling, in a way she knew how he felt. Joni's deteriorating health was out of everyone's control, but the emotional tole it took on everyone was beyond words.

For Oliver, he was too young to truly understand what was happening. At only three, he didn't really know why Joni was bedridden. He didn't know her body was failing, that she couldn't physically, mentally, or emotionally be there for him. Melanie had to step in and be the big sister and mother figure. It wasn't fair, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

"You've gotten so big, honey," Joni rasped, looking at Oliver with clouded eyes. "I can't believe it."

"Play with us?" Oliver asked; there was a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. That was a question he asked a lot, but the answer was always the same. Melanie's heart broke every time Joni had to refuse. The look of absolute heartbreak that would overtake Oliver's features was overwhelming, and it brought a lot of pain for everyone involved.

"Why don't we stay here?" Joni asked. "You can tell me stories. Is that okay?"

A pout came across Oliver's features. It was his signature pout — the one he'd give when he didn't like the answer he was given. For Melanie, she knew how to see through that look, but their mother wasn't as successful. She didn't spend as much time with her son, so it made sense that she'd fall for the pout.

"Baby, you know I can't get out of bed," she replied hoarsely. "It hurts for me to move. Can't you just tell me a story? I'd love to hear one."

"Ma loves your stories, Ollie," Melanie added.* "She hasn't heard any of yours in a long time."

There was a long silence as they gauged Oliver's reaction. The pout was still prominent on his face, but it softened a bit after Melanie's explanation. It was true that Joni appreciated her son's story-times. He was very imaginative, going on and on about the worlds and characters he created. Oliver would get so animated, it brought a temporary sense of normalcy.

"Could you do that for Ma, Ollie?" Melanie pushed, gently rubbing her brother's back. "It would help her feel better."

"Really?" he asked.

"They always do," Joni groaned.

...

Listening to Oliver tell his stories were the highlight of the early afternoon. He went on an imaginative adventure, expressing himself with his entire body. The whole room lit up with the childlike excitement and happiness of being able to tell his stories. Melanie and Joni were always appreciative of how animated he could get during that time, considering how quiet he could get. It was a refreshing little time, for sure.

But, as usual, it would have to come to an end eventually.

"Ollie, why don't we let Ma rest?" Melanie suggested.

Joni's eyes were starting to close, a sign of exhaustion. She managed to stay awake for almost half an hour, which was an improvement compared to previous times. If her pain wasn't intense, she'd be able to stay conscious for a total of fifteen to twenty minutes altogether. But nearly half an hour? It was a good sign!

"Tomorrow?" he asked, his breathing labored.

Joni hummed in tired agreement, in which Melanie nodded at her brother. Oliver's eyes were still glittering happily, his small hands grabbing his sister's as they existed Joni's room.

Once the door was shut behind them, Melanie scooped Oliver into her arms and led them to her bedroom. Just outside her window was a fire escape, her little Safe Spot. It was on that fire escape that Melanie could think about all the things she wanted to do with her life. She'd sometimes sit there for hours, thinking so far ahead, her mind would start spinning. One of Melanie's biggest dreams was to become a doctor. To her, it didn't matter if it was an impossible feat, she was willing to try. The medical field was run mostly by men, with very few women having the balls to go and one-up their competitors. Melanie wanted to prove herself, too. She wanted to be recognized as a successful doctor.

No, a successful Afro-Latina doctor.

Taking care of Joni was what inspired Melanie to develop that dream. So, in a sense, all that time taking care of her sick mother helped her in the long run.

"You ready to go to my Safe Spot?" Melanie asked, looking at Oliver.

He nodded excitedly.

Putting Oliver down, Melanie yanked her window open and climbed through, making sure her pants didn't get caught on anything. The one thing Melanie was thankful for was that her mother wasn't too picky on what her children wore. As a result, Melanie chose to wear pants over skirts or dresses any day.

Once over the window, the teen picked her brother up and gently carried him over. Taking a minute to sit down, Melanie placed Oliver between her legs in an attempt to secure him. The two siblings were able to overlook their neighborhood from the view, to see how everyone interacted with each other and how uneventful everything seemed to be.*

People were walking down sidewalks and hurrying across the streets. Cars were making their way down the road, honking at anyone who got in the way. From Melanie's perspective, everything that was going on — all the hustle and bustle of everyone and everything — was a typical day in New York. There wasn't a single moment where anyone chose to rest. People had places to be, cars were always honking and on the move, there were trolleys going back and forth between their destinations.

A typical day in Brooklyn. In New York, in general.

Letting out a sigh, Melanie's arms tightened just a fraction around Oliver. She was so interested in the people in her community. They all had their own lives, their own goals and ambitions. Every single person in her little neighborhood had something they wanted to do, places they wanted to see. Despite having moved to Brooklyn only six months prior, Melanie was already on a first name basis with a good number of the people in her community. It was surprising, how fast they accepted her and her family. When Melanie, Joni, and Oliver lived in the Bronx, not very many people really cared for the Salinas family. Sure, there were a few nice people, but the rest had their own agenda. They couldn't be bothered with anyone else.

Melanie enjoyed the different atmosphere in Brooklyn.

"Mel," Oliver exclaimed. He pointed a finger in the direction of a building. An ice cream parlor.

Melanie looked down at her brother with an arched brow. "We're tight on money, Ollie," she claimed. "Ice cream is pretty expensive."

Then came the signature pout. The one Joni had so much trouble resisting. Melanie and Oliver continued to look each other in the eye, the pout going on at full force. He was a very dedicated three year old, that much was certain. But Melanie liked to think she was very firm in not giving in to him. Sadly, though, there were still moments where she caved. Oliver hadn't been able to get things he wanted in a while; all because of financial hardships. It wasn't fair to him.

"You wanna go to Pop's?" Melanie asked. Oliver nodded enthusiastically. "Fine. Let's go."

...

Pop's was a popular ice cream parlor in Melanie's neighborhood. It was run by an older man called Pop. He was loved and respected in his community, considering he always gave such good advice on how to handle certain situations. For Melanie, he was the closest thing to a grandfather for her. Her paternal grandparents had disowned her father shortly after marrying Joni, and her maternal grandparents still lived in the Dominican. So, it's safe to say she didn't have a relationship with any of them. Pop was the closest Melanie ever got to a grandparent-like figure.

When she and Oliver entered the shop, after taking a few minutes to get ready, they were greeted by some of the customers inside. One of them was Rosemarie, a woman somewhere in her forties. She lived with her sister and three nephews, since an accident had her unable to take care of herself.

"Is that Oliver?" Rosemarie asked. She squinted her eyes at the three year old, as if trying to get a better look at him.

"It is," Melanie responded. "He wanted to get some ice cream today."

"He's getting so big," she exclaimed. "I remember when he was a little thing."

Chuckling, Melanie nodded. "Yeah," she said. "He's growing up too fast, that's for sure."

Oliver was clutching onto his sister's leg, looking at everyone shyly. He would keep burying his face into Melanie's leg, all the while giving brief glances at everyone in the parlor.

"Mellie!" Pop's voice rang through his shop, loud and jovial as always. When Melanie turned to look at him, she smiled at the bright smile on his face. Pop's wild, curly hair was pretty much all white and gray, his beard trimmed down but showing signs of age, too. His arms were extended, as if waiting for a hug. With a laugh, Melanie brought Oliver over so she could do just that. "I haven't seen you in here in a long time," Pop exclaimed, giving her the biggest hug. "What's been going on?"

"Not much," Melanie laughed, hugging him back. "Taking care of Oliver and our mother."

For a split second, Pop's gaze went to the three year old, who was attempting to hide behind his sister. "He's a shy one," he boomed, letting go of the hug.

"He really is."

"How's your mother holding up?"

The question caused Melanie's heart to clench. She gave a brief shake of her head. She could only hope Oliver didn't see it.

Sighing, Pop nodded. "She'll get better," he said. "She's strong, just like you kids."

"How's your doctor fund comin' along?" The question came from Hope, an elderly lady sitting at one of the booths. Hope knew everybody in their neighborhood; on top of that, she knew everything going on in everyone's lives. Joni's health and Melanie's doctor funds were just a few.

"I'm almost there," Melanie responded, taking Oliver to a nearby table. "Just a little more, and I can get a doctor to come down and check Ma."

"I admire what you're doin'," Hope responded, "if there was anythin' I could do to help. . ."

"You don't have to," Melanie interrupted. "I appreciate your concern, but I've got it."

"Did you want the usual?" Pop asked. When Melanie first moved to Brooklyn, she used to come all the time to the parlor. The one thing she always got was an ice cream sundae.

Melanie nodded. "Thanks, Pop," she said. "What do you want, Ollie?"

He shrugged his shoulders, his gaze downward and his cheeks flushed. Oliver was a bit overwhelmed with what was going on.

"Can we have two, Pop?" Melanie called.

"Sure thing, sweetie."

When the sixteen year old's gaze went back to her half-brother, she sighed. He wasn't saying much, and he definitely wasn't interacting with anyone. It was something she expected to happen. At the best of times, Oliver was a quiet kid. He rarely had temper tantrums, and rarely attempted to make a scene. Melanie was appreciative of that. It made things easier in the Salinas household. But at the same time, Oliver's quietness worried Melanie. What if, as he got older, he couldn't properly interact with other people? He was so shy around other people, it got the teen thinking. It broke her heart at the thought of him never being able to develop relationships outside of his family.

"Here you go," Pop said, putting two bowls of sundaes in front of the kids. There was still a jovial look in his eyes, but at the same time, he looked at the siblings sympathetically. Pop knew more than anyone what it was like to lose family to illness. He lost both his parents — and a brother — to sicknesses.

"Thanks," Melanie said.

"Let me know if you need anything else."

Melanie handed Oliver his spoon, urging him to start eating. He quickly took it from his sister's hand, and looked at the dessert happily. Seeing the glittering excitement in his eyes was a definite reassurance.

"Dig in, Ollie," Melanie chuckled. "You don't want it to melt, do you?"

...

Joni remembered the day she first came to America. It had been a very emotional time for her, considering she'd never been outside her own country before. Having grown up in the Dominican Republic, she only knew what her home had to offer. She'd never been given the opportunity to see outside of all that. Joni's parents tried to convince her not to leave, but she wouldn't listen. In her eyes, she deserved a better life. Where she was born, where she grew up, wasn't offering that anymore. So Joni's travels to America began.

Her travels led her from Cuba to Florida, and it took months to get there. Almost a full year, if Joni's memory serves. But it was worth it in the end. She fell in love with the country, with the people and the culture — but that admiration was short lived. People in the Southern states weren't so. . .accepting of Juni. Her skin color and initial inability to speak and understand English put her in a bad spot. She was attacked a lot, and she knew she had to get out as quickly as possible. The only problem was hardly anyone spoke Spanish, so there was a big language barrier.

After weeks of living in fear in the South, Joni met a man named Joel. He was an African American, and he spoke broken Spanish.* For Joni, that was good enough. The duo traveled to the North, where their travels developed a romantic attraction between the two. They married and Melanie was born a year and a half later. When Joel died years later, Joni's life fell apart. He was the first, and seemingly only, man who'd been kind to her after coming to the country.

There were a lot of things Joni regretted after Joel's death. She regretted how neglected Melanie must've felt after her father's death. She regretted how Oliver would grow up without a mother or father.* But most of all, Joni regretted how her children were having to take care of her. It wasn't fair to them. Parents took care of their children, not the other way around.

The one thing Joni regretted most of all, though, was how she succumbed to her illness while her children were away.

(A/N):

Sorry for the wait on this chapter! Looking back at it, I don't know how I feel about the final result, but I'll leave that to you guys. Give constructive criticism where you think it's due, guys. I'd appreciate it.*

The MCU does not belong to me. All I own are my OCs, my subplots, and the cell phone in my room. If you've got ideas for an OC or a subplot, all you've got to do is PM me or leave a review. I'll add them in as soon as possible.

So this story, if you're curious, begins in 1935. Which means Melanie is 16; Oliver is 3; Steve is 17; and Bucky is 18. I know I didn't put in anywhere the year this story takes place, but I think I mentioned in the previous chapter it's before WWII. I figured I'd give you guys a foundation of sorts, so you guys don't have to guess or anything.

And in case you're wondering where I got the ages for Steve & Bucky, I went onto the Marvel WIKI page for their characters and looked at the years they were born. For Bucky, it said he was born in 1917; and Steve was born in 1918. So yeah. That's how I did it.

Be sure to leave random facts in the review section! It could be on something new or old, I don't care.

Blessed be,

Florida Mayers