I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only what they defend.

Faramir, Captain of Gondor, in The Two Towers by J. R. R. Tolkien

Chapter 1 - 1928

*Notes: This story has some differences from established MCU continuity - beyond the gender of Captain America, I mean. In this story, Stephanie is raised by her father - not her mother. Being raised by her father makes Stephanie more of an outsider in the 20's and 30's - as she had no one to teach her the cultural requirements of womanhood at the time, like coiffed hair and makeup. A small, sickly girl is less a target of scorn than a small, sickly boy - but a girl who likes Julius Caesar and wears pants would certainly attract some derision.

The other girls had cornered her on the way home from the library. This time, they grabbed her books and glasses - tossing them to each other and making her try to catch them until she started wheezing. When it was obvious she couldn't run anymore they threw her things into the alley and laughed - because how could she find her glasses without using her glasses? Everyone knew little Stephanie Rogers was blind as a bat without 'em.

She was on her hands and knees in the alley, gently feeling around herself, her thoughts bouncing between don't cry don't cry and what did I just touch?! - when she heard footsteps behind her.

Back for more, huh? Well, they wouldn't see her scared. She didn't even look around.

"What, no puppies to kick? Your life must be pretty darn boring if pestering me is the best you can do on Friday afternoon." She heard a chuckle. Was that good or bad? She kept going, happy that her voice was only shaking a little. "Maybe you should pick up a hobby, like reading. Oh wait...reading requires thinking. My mistake."

"I found your specs." A boy's voice. Stephanie turned around and squinted up at a blurry figure holding out a blurry hand bearing another blur that was presumably her glasses.

"...Thanks." She took them and put them on. Not broken. That's a relief.

The blur resolved itself into a rangy, dark-haired kid a little older than she was, maybe eleven, messy, rumpled, and sporting a faded black eye. Stephanie had seen him at school and around the block- typically either getting in fights with other boys, getting an earful from his mom, or getting sent to the principal's office.

"They were pretty dirty. I wiped 'em off for you." His shirt wasn't very clean either, which would explain why Stephanie now looked at the world through a smeary curtain of grime. "I tried to clean up your book too, but…" He shrugged. Stephanie saw that her book - her library book - had clearly landed face down in a puddle. Its pages were already waterlogged and wrinkling.

With an inarticulate cry of dismay, Stephanie snatched the book from the boy's hands and cradled it as if it were an injured kitten. Her lower lip began to quiver.

"Aw, jeez," he said, "Look, don't cry; I'm sure we can dry it out with a hair dryer or something…"

"I wasn't going to cry," Stephanie lied. "Your ma has a hair dryer?"

"Why shouldn't she?" The boy said sharply. His father was gone, but not dead, and defending his mother was the cause of most of his schoolyard scraps. Stephanie's lip began to tremble again. "Shucks, I'm sorry. Look, why don't you come by and we'll try it out."

The boy lived just down the block from Stephanie, and on the way to his house he told her his name was James Buchanan Barnes - saying the name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Just call me Bucky."

"Stevie Rogers," said Stephanie.

Mrs. Barnes - pleasantly surprised that her son was back before dark, without any new bruises, and wanting to pass the afternoon doing something involving a book - loaned her hair dryer to the cause without complaint, and even brought in some peanut butter sandwiches after a few minutes.

"Are you sure this will work?" Stevie was propping up the book while Bucky aimed the hair dryer at it with one hand and shoved a sandwich into his mouth with the other.

"Sure, why not?" He said, spraying crumbs. "It works on hair, right? Hey, what's the big to-do about this book, anyway? Looks like a real snooze from where I'm sitting."

"It is not!" Stevie said, offended. "It's a biography of Alexander the Great - the greatest general and military strategist of all time! He conquered the entire known world! Well, what was known at the time...not America or Africa."

"Really? Then why haven't I ever heard of him?"

Stevie glared. "Maybe you would have if you spent more time in class."

"Ouch!" Bucky put his hand to his chest melodramatically, as if she had shot him. "What'd he do, if he was so amazing?"

Stevie pushed up her glasses. "Alright. When Alexander was conquering Persia he came to a fort called the Sogdian Rock…"

Bucky snickered. "The soggy rock?"

"Be quiet! I'm telling the story! Anyway, it was a fort on a cliff - a sheer, steep cliff - that had never been taken in battle, so when Alexander asked the general to surrender, he laughed and said Alexander would need men with wings to capture the Rock."

Stevie's face shone with animation. Bucky found he was leaning forward, eager in spite of himself to find out what happened.

"Alexander took 300 men and they climbed the cliff at night using tent pegs and linen rope. 30 men died. But the next day, Alexander told the defenders to look up, and they saw his 270 soldiers on the peak above them. He said, 'You see, I found the ones with wings.'"

Stevie stopped to take a bite of sandwich.

"And?" said Bucky. "What happened?"

"They surrendered on the spot. Alexander took the fort without a fight and married the general's daughter."

"No fight?! What a gyp." Bucky seemed disappointed. "Swell story, though. I see what you mean about old Alex...Hey, is the book dry yet? This thing is heavy."

Stevie checked the pages. "It is getting dry," she bit her lip, "but the pages are still all wrinkled. Miss Robinson will be so mad!" Stevie's breath began to hitch up in her chest at the thought of being banned from the library.

Bucky clicked the hair dryer off and shook out his wrists. "Don't worry about it."

Stevie clutched the poor, battered book and gave Bucky an expression that mingled disbelief and despair.

"Look, leave it to me." Bucky pointed at his chest proudly. "Ma says I have the Barnes charm."

"More than is good for you," Bucky's mother said from the doorway. "Will you be staying for dinner, Stephanie?"

"Oh!" Stevie scrambled to her feet - a little too fast, Mrs. Barnes had to take her arm to keep her from stumbling. "No, thank you Mrs. Barnes, I should get home to my dad."

"All right, but at least take something with you." She smiled maternally at Stevie. "James, walk her home, would you dear?"

Bucky, good to his word, did walk Stevie home, and he did "take care" of her library problem with a sob story that embellished the truth only slightly. He told a beaming Stevie that the book was hers to keep and she was so happy she kissed him on the cheek before she realized what she was doing. They were both, of course, mortified.