𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑬

The inheritance had fallen from heaven. Things in Harlem were getting worse by the day, and it was no longer a suitable place to raise a daughter. The truth was that the entire country was falling apart, but at least in Brooklyn, Elizabeth would have a few more chances—or at least that was what Gladys told Frank to convince him to accept. The gift had come from a childless, middle-class man whom Frank had known in the Great War, a sort of thank-you for saving his life in the trenches.

To fifteen-year-old Elizabeth, the news felt like pure magic. In Harlem, because of the high crime rates, she had been forbidden from going anywhere after five in the afternoon—a direct threat to an adventurous soul like hers. Her occasional escapades to the neighborhood block parties had been sharply reduced, and that had left her in a very bad mood.

Still, the move brought with it a couple of job opportunities for her parents, which meant they would be busy for longer hours and, consequently, that she would have more free time to wander wherever she pleased.

More freedom for a spirit as curious as hers didn’t always mean something good.

The girl, accustomed to the chaotic rhythm of her former neighborhood, had grown used to settling any conflict with fists or shouts. Elizabeth had been, from the moment she had any sense at all, one of those people who never hesitated to raise her voice and fight for what was right. That quality would have made her the kind of leader everyone wanted to follow—if not for one small detail: she was a girl.

Even though opportunities in Brooklyn seemed endless, the life of a lower-class girl, no matter how undeniable her potential, was still marked by the limits society imposed. That earned her a constant stream of trouble: dresses covered in dirt, torn stockings, and her mother’s furious scolding.

“Damn it,” the young girl muttered when she noticed the enormous hole along the right side of her stocking. She knew it would cost her a good beating from her mother, and she hoped her mom wouldn’t go running to her father with the story. If she did, things were not going to end well for her that afternoon.

The whole mess that day had started because she had found some boys tormenting a cat in one of the alleys near the school. Her fierce sense of justice hadn’t let her simply walk away and ignore it. Instead, she had to fight—and she’d hit them over the head with a tin can.

Now she was running down the street, trying to lose them while searching for a good place to hide the poor animal.

“Come here, you little piece of shit!”

She could feel them right on her heels. She knew they would catch her—she was much smaller than they were, at least in size—and no matter how fast she ran, she was sure it wouldn’t take them long to find her.

She ducked into one of the alleys, hoping it would distract them long enough for her to stay hidden until they gave up. She realized she hadn’t been that lucky when she heard them getting closer.

“She went into this alley!”

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the little cat tightly against her chest. Her end had finally come, and she was certain those thugs weren’t going to forgive her.

“Hey, leave her alone!”

The unfamiliar voice sounded almost like an angelic choir, a salvation sent from heaven…

When she opened her eyes, she almost wanted to cry. The blond boy who had stepped up to defend her was just as thin and short as she was. He even looked a little sickly—his skin was pale, and faint dark shadows framed his eyes.

They were going to kill them. That was certain. They were going to kill them both.

The boy stood ready to fight. He didn’t seem afraid.

Elizabeth thought that maybe he was some kind of expert fighter who, despite having very little muscle, could throw someone twice his size a couple of meters and give them a chance to run. Her illusions vanished as quickly as the boy did after the first punch. His fragile body flew backward a few meters and slammed into the trash cans. Elizabeth was sure at least one of his bones had broken.

The boy got back up, and just as they were about to hit him again, someone else appeared—a much taller boy with far more skill in a fight. He wasn’t a professional, but he clearly knew what he was doing.

It only took a couple of punches for the boys to abandon their mission and slink away with their egos bruised.

“I had them on the ropes,” the blond boy huffed, pushing himself up as best he could and brushing off his clothes.

“Yeah, sure,” the other one replied.

Elizabeth finally let out the breath she had been holding ever since the first boy had stepped in front of her. The sound drew both their attention.

“Are you okay?” the blond asked, clearly worried. “Did they hurt you?”

“No… I mean, they didn’t hurt me. I’m fine,” she assured him with a soft smile. “Are you okay?”

“He’s so used to this he probably didn’t even feel it,” the brunet said, making her laugh. His friend didn’t find it nearly as funny and simply rolled his eyes. “I’m Bucky, and the brave one who just saved your life is Steve.”

“I can introduce myself, thanks,” the smaller boy grumbled before shyly extending his hand toward the redhead. “Steve Rogers.”

Elizabeth’s smile widened, clearly entertained by the little exchange between them. She quickly shifted the kitten to one arm and took the offered hand, shaking it.

“Elizabeth Adler,” she said. Once she had shaken Steve’s hand, she extended hers to Bucky.

“Bucky Barnes,” he added his last name, not wanting to be left behind. “Why were they chasing you? Did you steal something from them?”

The redhead frowned, visibly offended.

“I’m not a thief,” she muttered, then gently held the kitten out so he could see it. “They wanted to burn his ears. I had to save him.”

Bucky reached out to stroke the animal. The kitten happily accepted the touch before curling back up against the girl’s chest.

“Is he yours?” Steve asked this time, offering a small, touched smile. He was moved by the girl’s kindness.

He didn’t dare pet it himself; he was afraid the fine fur would get up his nose and cause an infection. It had happened to him before, and he had no desire to go through it again.

“No. My mom doesn’t like animals,” she said with a shrug. “But now I have to find him a home. I can’t just put him back on the street.”

Bucky’s face lit up instantly.

“My sister’s birthday is coming up soon. Mom wanted to get her a dog, but Becca loves cats. I could take him home with me…”

“Really?” she interrupted, her eyes sparkling at once.

“It might take me a little while to convince Mom, but I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

Elizabeth looked a bit unsure and made a small face as she gazed at the kitten’s bright eyes. Steve noticed her hesitation and spoke up quickly.

“Bucky’s serious. He wouldn’t lie.”

For some reason she couldn’t explain, the redhead knew Steve was an honest person, and if he said Bucky wasn’t lying, then she believed him. Still, something tugged uncomfortably in her chest—she felt far too attached to the little cat after everything that had just happened.

“We could meet up on the weekends so you can see him,” the brunet offered when he noticed the way Elizabeth was looking at the small animal. “My sister always goes to our grandma’s on weekends.”

“Really? You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

That made her smile wider than ever, and she nodded, happy with the plan.

“Are you new around here? We’ve never seen you before,” Steve asked again, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Maybe I’m just good at staying out of sight.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you’re the type of girl who gets into trouble pretty often,” Bucky said. “And we have a real talent for finding trouble, so we would’ve noticed you sooner.”

The redhead frowned, but he only shrugged, standing by his words.

“I got here a few weeks ago,” she explained at last. “I used to live in Harlem, but now we have a place here in Brooklyn.”

“Oh, Harlem—that explains a lot,” Steve exclaimed with a grin, giving Bucky a light elbow to the ribs. Bucky nodded in agreement. “So, how are you liking Brooklyn so far?”

“I’m still getting used to it,” Elizabeth admitted. “It’s not that different. Though, to be honest, I like Brooklyn better than Harlem. It’s… less complicated.”

“Yeah, but it has its own troubles,” Bucky said, shifting his weight onto one foot as he crossed his arms. “If you know where not to go, you’ll be fine.”

“Or if you have the right friends,” Steve added with a shy smile.

Usually he didn’t talk much, especially around girls, because they always seemed to look down on him or intimidate him. But Elizabeth seemed nice and relaxed—something about her gave him enough confidence to open up a little more.

The redhead raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Is that an invitation to your exclusive troublemakers’ club?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“We’re not troublemakers,” Steve protested. “But we do know the neighborhood pretty well, and it looks like you could use a map.”

“Or a compass, just to be safe,” Bucky suggested, looking at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “But I’m sure you’ll adapt fast. You look like the type who can take care of herself.”

“Let’s just say I’ve had to learn how,” she shrugged again.

“Well, if you’re interested in the official neighborhood tour, we can show you the best ice cream parlors and the places you don’t want to walk alone at night,” Steve offered.

“Besides, our group could really use someone with red hair,” Bucky muttered.

Talking to them was, without a doubt, the best thing that had happened to Elizabeth since she’d arrived in Brooklyn. They both seemed incredibly kind and charming, and they were the only boys who hadn’t acted like complete idiots when speaking to her. That alone put them several steps above any other boy she had met in the neighborhood.

“I think I’ll take you up on that, but it’ll have to be another day. I’m already really late getting home, and if I don’t make it before six, I’ll be in serious trouble.”

“Where do you live?”

“101 Prospect Place,” she said with a smile, though inside she was mentally scolding herself—her mother was definitely going to yell at her for giving her address to strangers. “What about you two?”

“173 Bergen Street,” Steve said.

“234 Dean Street.”

“So you two live pretty close to each other,” she remarked, looking at them with amusement. Both boys nodded.

“Prospect Place isn’t that far,” Bucky said with a shrug. Steve shot him a slightly furrowed brow. “It’s only about twenty minutes at most. Want us to walk you home? We don’t mind, right, Steve?”

“No, not at all.”

They had already been walking that afternoon since the blond boy had left school. Steve didn’t really want to walk much farther, but he didn’t say anything—his mother had raised him better than that. He would never let a girl walk home alone in the afternoon.

“This way we make sure those guys don’t come back looking to hit you again.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

“Then let’s get going. We don’t want you getting any later,” Bucky said, boldly reaching out to take Elizabeth’s schoolbag from her shoulder.

The redhead looked at him in surprise, but she didn’t protest. She accepted the gentlemanly gesture from Barnes and started walking. The walk to Elizabeth’s house was quite pleasant. Steve and Bucky took turns asking her as many questions as they could think of, and they let her do the same.

It was during that back-and-forth of questions and answers that Elizabeth and Steve learned their fathers had served together in the 107th Infantry. After that, the redhead wouldn’t stop talking about the coincidences of fate and how it was written in the stars that the three of them would meet one way or another. Her dreamy declaration made both boys laugh, but deep down it touched them enough to decide that they definitely wanted Miss Adler as a new member of their little group.

“Promise you’ll take good care of him,” Elizabeth said once their walk was nearly over.

Bucky had reminded her that he was taking the kitten with him, and she needed to make sure the little one would be in good hands.

“I promise. At least I’ll make sure Rebecca treats him right,” he said seriously.

Elizabeth nodded and finally handed the kitten over to Bucky, who cradled it protectively against his chest. The small animal didn’t seem too happy at first in the brunet’s arms, but after a couple of gentle strokes it calmed down. They finally arrived in front of the building where the Adler family’s apartment was. Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief when she saw that the lights were off, which meant neither her mother nor her father had come home yet.

“I think this is where we part ways,” the girl murmured. “Thank you so much for walking me home… and thank you for saving me back there.”

“It was nothing.”

“I really owe you one. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to, Liz,” Steve reassured her gently. “Just come out with us again.”

“I definitely will,” she smiled brightly. “I’m really glad I met you both. I’ll see you soon.”

The girl waved goodbye as she walked toward the entrance of the building. They waved back, and once she had gone inside and was out of sight, Steve quickly turned to look at his friend, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“What?” Bucky asked when he noticed he was being watched.

The blond let out a soft chuckle and shook his head.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

The outings with Steve and Bucky became more and more frequent, to the point where the two boys waited for Elizabeth outside school almost every day to walk her home or wherever else she needed to go.

On weekends, Bucky would visit the redhead and bring Silas—the cat she had rescued—so she could spend time with him.

By the end of June, Elizabeth had learned a lot about both boys. She learned that one of Steve’s dreams was to serve in the army like his father once had, that he was terribly sickly, and that his drawing skills were exceptional. About Bucky, she discovered that he liked cats almost as much as—or maybe even more than—his sister, that he hated peas, and that he had had to drop out of school to work after his father died.

She also learned to care for them, to read every one of their gestures and every shift in their voices. Elizabeth was observant, and she learned to read them so quickly that it even scared her a little. The truth was that in her fifteen years of life, she had never had friends this close. Bucky and Steve had even introduced themselves to her mother and given her a carnation each, being completely honest about their intention to be friends with her daughter. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if that was normal or if she had simply been incredibly lucky.

Gladys, though reluctant, had allowed her to go out with them as long as they didn’t get into trouble and Elizabeth didn’t tear any more stockings or dirty her dresses. It was Bucky who made that solemn promise, because Steve couldn’t guarantee it—he simply nodded at everything his brunet friend said.

Elizabeth had never felt that kind of affection before—the unconditional affection the two of them seemed to give her so freely. Of course her mother and father loved her, in their own way, she supposed… but at the end of the day, they cared about her because she was their daughter.

With Bucky and Steve it was different. She had never understood what it felt like for someone to like her simply for being herself, without needing to share blood or a last name. That important bond called friendship. She liked it—a lot. She liked the way they made her feel understood and valued, and she made a silent promise to herself to take care of both of them the same way they took care of her.

July 4, 1934.

That day Steve was turning sixteen.

The economic situation was still bad; it was impossible to throw a proper birthday party. But neither Bucky nor Elizabeth wanted the day to pass unnoticed for him, so they had come up with a plan a couple of weeks in advance.

Elizabeth took on as many small jobs as she could: she watched the neighbor’s baby for a couple of hours while the woman went to the market, she took out the trash for the old lady who lived a few blocks away, and she cleaned the windows of her own house and her neighbors’. That work earned her forty cents, which she proudly saved until the right moment.

For Bucky it was a little easier. Since he already had his own savings, he only had to take a couple of dollars and set them aside for their plan. He also received thirty cents from his sister, who, even though she wouldn’t be there, didn’t want to be left out of Steve’s celebration.

Between the two of them, they managed to gather enough to buy three cheeseburgers, three cans of soda, and three vanilla ice creams. With what was left, they bought the missing ingredients and, with the help of Bucky’s mother, Winnifred, they made a chocolate cake.

They celebrated on the rooftop of Steve’s building—just the three of them.

Steve received gifts from both. From Elizabeth, a small stack of drawing paper bound together rather clumsily but with a beautiful note on the cover. From Bucky, a set of charcoal sticks. He treasured both gifts with all his heart and thanked them over and over again.

They stayed up there for most of the afternoon, undisturbed, watching the fireworks from the parade and listening to the cheerful noise rising from the city streets.

“They’re especially for you, Stevie,” Elizabeth said, pulling him into a tight hug while she stared straight at the colorful lights illuminating the sky.

The blond let out a laugh at his friend’s wild idea and then nodded softly, believing her words for just a moment.

“Thanks for everything, guys.”

“Always.”

October 31, 1934.

The redhead frowned the moment she saw Bucky arrive at Steve’s house. Barnes immediately felt judged and hurried to speak, glancing down at himself to check if something was wrong with his appearance.

“What?”

“Where’s your costume?” she asked, visibly offended.

“Liz, I’m not dressing up,” he said with a laugh. “I’m almost eighteen. I’ll leave that to the little kids.”

Elizabeth’s face twisted into a pout of pure discontent, and Bucky suddenly felt terribly threatened. He even thought she might jump on him and hit him—and it wouldn’t be the first time. He still had a bruise on his ribs from the last time he tried to steal a slice of her tangerine.

“What’s going on? And where’s your costume, Bucky?” Steve asked, stepping out of his room while straightening his shirt. The brunet rolled his eyes.

“You won’t believe the ridiculous things your friend is saying,” Elizabeth cut in before Bucky could speak, turning to the blond.

“I thought I was your friend too,” Bucky muttered.

“Not when you refuse to wear a costume—you’re not my friend then,” the redhead grumbled, crossing her arms.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle and shook his head.

“Come on, Buck. This is probably the last year we’ll get free candy.”

“My last year was two years ago,” the brunet complained, still trying to defend his position. “What will the girls say? They’ll definitely make fun of me.”

“Excuse me?” the redhead asked again, in that tone that made it sound like she had been deeply insulted. “There’s a girl right here begging you to wear a costume.”

“You know what I mean, Liz.”

“Bucky, please…” Elizabeth dropped the offended act and gave him her best pout, which made Steve burst into loud laughter. “Pleeease.”

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Steve joined in, trying to convince him too. “Liz is really excited. This is the first and probably the last time she’ll get to experience Halloween.”

That wasn’t a lie. When she was younger, Halloween hadn’t been taken very seriously, especially not in Harlem. There were a few celebrations, but they were mostly for adults and sometimes older teenagers.

Her only chance to attend one of those gatherings had been the previous year, but her father had strictly forbidden it.

Besides, the tradition of trick-or-treating wasn’t that popular in some places yet, so this would be Elizabeth’s first time celebrating it that way. Saying she was excited would be an understatement.

Thinking about that softened Bucky’s resolve a little. And when Elizabeth hung from his arm and looked up at him with those bright green eyes… he finally gave in.

“Do you have a sheet I can cut holes in?” he asked at last, turning to Steve.

The wind blew hard enough to gently tousle Elizabeth’s long red hair. The weather was already turning cold, but she was well bundled up in her long orange coat.

She walked arm in arm with both boys as they made their way back after that night’s candy haul. All three bags held a respectable amount of cookies, apples, and peanuts—even a few lollipops—which made them feel like the evening had been a complete success.

Around seven o’clock, the group of friends headed toward the celebration taking place on the main street in front of the high school.

“Did you get a date for tonight, Bucky?” Steve asked, curious.

“Nope,” he answered as if it were obvious. “Apparently I look too stupid in this cheap ghost costume, so you two are my date for the evening.”

“Well, I’m not dancing with you,” Steve said with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What about you, Liz?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

The redhead’s gaze was lost somewhere among the stalls of the fair, clearly intrigued by the small violet-colored tent decorated with lights on the outskirts.

“Liz?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to dance with me?” Bucky asked, stepping in front of her to catch her attention.

His blue eyes managed to pull her away from whatever had been holding her interest, and having him so close to her face made her take a couple of steps back. Her cheeks warmed and she had to clear her throat before speaking.

“Why should I dance with you, Barnes?”

“You owe me. I’ve been walking around looking like this, asking for candy. I doubt any girl will want to dance with me tonight.”

The younger girl rolled her eyes in amusement and finally nodded.

“Fine. We’ll dance.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to ask me for something in return.”

“Can we go over there? They read your fortune,” she said, pointing at the place she had been staring at earlier.

The brunet frowned and looked in the direction she indicated, then shrugged.

“Sure. You coming, Steve?”

The blond hesitated for a moment but eventually accepted the invitation, even though it made him a little nervous. His mother had once warned him about those pagan traditions, and the truth was she had instilled a bit of fear in him. Still, when the three of them stepped inside the tent and he realized the woman running it was the baker’s wife, he relaxed. He told himself none of it was real.

“Come in, come in, kids!” the woman with long, wavy raven hair offered warmly. “What do you want to know tonight? Your death? Who you’ll marry?”

Elizabeth smiled excitedly at the show and tugged on both boys’ arms, pulling them down onto the small couch in front of the supposed fortune teller. The woman gave them an exaggerated smile, and Steve felt a shiver run down his spine for a second.

“I want to know who I’ll marry,” the blond said quickly, blurting out the first question that came to mind because he wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.

The woman closed her eyes and stroked the crystal ball on her table several times while murmuring words none of the three could understand.

“I see brown hair… and eyes the color of chocolate,” she said with a smile. “A fierce spirit… but you’re going to have to die.”

His skin prickled at her words and he shrank back in his seat. He knew it was all fake, but the performance still gave him a strange feeling.

“Do you want to know how you’ll die?”

He stayed silent, but Elizabeth encouraged him with a gentle nudge to the ribs. Knowing none of it was real, he cleared his throat and sat up straight again.

“Yes—” his answer sounded more like a question, but no one paid much attention.

The woman stroked the crystal ball once more, then suddenly opened her eyes and stared straight at him.

“You will perish in the cold, and those who know you will hear no more of you… but those who do not know you will remember you forever.”

Steve swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in his throat. He wanted to laugh, to make some sarcastic comment to ease the tension, but something in the woman’s voice and the way she looked at him kept him quiet. Bucky, sitting beside him, let out a dry laugh, momentarily breaking the heavy atmosphere.

“Wow, how original,” the brunet commented, crossing his arms with a mocking air. “And what about me? How am I going to die?”

The woman slowly turned her gaze toward him, her eyes gleaming as if she had been waiting for that exact question. She leaned forward, placing her hands dramatically on the table, stared at him for a couple of seconds, and then spoke.

“You will fall from the greatest height, and you will become a ghost to everyone who loves you.”

“Wow, that’s… dramatic,” Bucky muttered, clearing his throat to hide the shiver that ran down the back of his neck. “Now tell her,” he said, pointing at Elizabeth to escape the woman’s intense gaze.

The fortune teller fixed her eyes on her for what felt like an eternity. Her dark eyes shone with something Elizabeth couldn’t quite decipher. For a moment, the air inside the tent seemed to grow colder, and the noise from the street outside faded away, as if the world had stopped.

“You, child… you will not die. Your destiny is intertwined with theirs,” she added, indicating the two boys with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head.

Elizabeth’s nervous smile vanished from her face for a second, and her throat suddenly felt dry. She did her best to speak again.

“I won’t die? Is that good or bad?” she managed to ask, almost in a whisper.

“You will be the flame that keeps them alive… but that flame… could consume your own heart.”

Steve, clearly uncomfortable, leaned toward Elizabeth without taking his eyes off the woman in front of them.

“Alright, we’ve had enough tragic poetry for one night. Let’s go,” he said, standing up and trying to pull Elizabeth by the arm.

“Wait, wait,” Liz protested, resisting. She was intrigued by the poetic reading. “I want to know more. What does that mean?”

“It means your light is strong, dear, but you must be careful. The flames that illuminate can also destroy if they are not handled with care.”

Bucky let out a dry laugh, trying to hide his own nervousness, and then looked at Liz.

“Well, Liz, now you’re a metaphorical candle. Can we go?” The redhead nodded and stood up from the couch, with Bucky following close behind. “Thanks for the show,” the brunet said with a smile as they left the tent.

Outside, the cold night air seemed to pull them out of the strange unease the tent and the woman had plunged them into. All three let out a sigh at the same time, and Steve shook his head.

“That was way too intense,” the blond complained with a grimace. “We’re never doing that kind of thing again.”

“Well, that’s the magic of actors,” Elizabeth murmured. “But yeah… it was a bit much.”

“But it’s fake. At least we know that,” Bucky added, trying to reassure both of them and himself. “Better go dance before the night ends.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s probably best.”

January 10, 1935.

The sharp scent of bleach and camphor hung heavy in the air, a subtle reminder of illness. The bright white walls did nothing at all to bring any sense of calm.

Elizabeth was a little more used to the cold, sterile feeling of hospitals—her mother being a nurse was the reason—but that brought her no comfort. The constant reminder that it was Steve lying in one of those rooms, and not some stranger, made her want to break down in tears.

The autumn and winter had been bitterly cold, cold enough to give Steve a severe case of bronchitis that only worsened his asthma and left him bedridden for weeks with no clear signs of improvement.

Neither of them would have been truly worried under normal circumstances; at their age it was likely he would recover. But Steve was far too frail for a sixteen-year-old boy. His lungs were much more damaged than most, and the risk of losing his life to an asthma attack like this one was high.

“He’s going to be okay,” Bucky murmured. Though the words were meant to comfort Elizabeth, they sounded more like something he was saying to comfort himself. “He’s been worse and he’s pulled through. He’ll be fine.”

The redhead offered a weak smile, wanting to give him some hope, but she was far more aware of the risks. Yes, Steve had been worse before—and that was exactly what made the danger greater now.

Gladys stepped out of Steve’s room, and both teenagers practically rushed toward her.

“How is he, Mom?” Elizabeth asked, her voice thick with worry.

“He’s better,” she assured them. Both let out a breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding. Gladys smiled gently. “The doctor will give all the information to his mother, so you can head home. You haven’t been resting properly.”

“When can we come visit him?” Bucky asked.

“I’ll let you know when it’s appropriate, alright?”

Reluctantly, the two teenagers accepted Elizabeth’s mother’s instructions and left, though not before asking her over and over to call them the moment anything changed.

The walk home was quiet. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but neither of them knew what to say to comfort the other. In truth, there were no words that could soothe them right now. The only thing that would bring them any real peace was seeing Steve out of that horrible hospital bed.

“Have you been eating properly?” Bucky asked suddenly, when they were only a few blocks from Elizabeth’s building.

The redhead looked at him with a frown, questioning his sudden concern. It wasn’t that Bucky never cared about her well-being—it was just that, in that moment, something like that didn’t feel important. Her priority had to be Steve.

“You’re my friend too, Liz,” he murmured in response, as if he could read every single one of her expressions. “And I worry about you just as much as I worry about Steve.”

“I’m fine. He—”

“He’s being taken care of by the doctors. What about you?”

“I can take care of myself, Buck,” she said, smiling faintly to reassure him. “I always have.”

“You’re not alone anymore, Liz.” The brunet’s gaze stayed fixed on her. “Do you want to come and have dinner with me and Rebecca? I’m sure there’ll be enough food and—”

“Don’t worry, there’s food at home, and I have to get back before my dad does. You know how he gets.”

“Tomorrow?”

“If your mother doesn’t mind, then I’ll come.”

“My mom likes you,” he smiled. “But you have to eat something, okay?”

“I will. Don’t worry.”

They finally reached the building. The worn façade looked even more bleak now that it was winter, but both of them had grown used to it.

“Do you want me to walk you all the way up?” he asked, even though he already knew Elizabeth would probably refuse.

“No, it’s not necessary. I’ll be fine,” she smiled, gently shaking her head. “You go get some rest too.”

“Good night, Liz.”

“Good night, Bucky.”

Elizabeth climbed the stairs and stepped into her apartment. It was quiet, and although she usually didn’t mind the silence, the heavy weight of hopelessness in her chest kept her from feeling at ease.

“Everything’s going to be okay…” she whispered to herself, as if saying it out loud might convince her heart to believe it. “Tomorrow everything will be okay.”

Eventually Steve did recover. It took him a few more days to leave the hospital and a couple of weeks to finish recuperating at home, but in the end he regained the strength he had lost. Even though he was still a scrawny boy and the violet shadows beneath his eyes hadn’t disappeared, the smile that defined him seemed to shine even brighter than before.

May 15, 1935

“Have you thought about what you’ll do when you finish school?” Steve asked, handing Elizabeth the ice pop.

“Work, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “But we still have a year left, so I’m trying to take it easy. What about you? Are you still thinking about studying art?”

“Well… I don’t think there’s much work out there for someone like me, so… if I can make something with my art, then I’ll do it.”

“I’m sure you’ll be an amazing artist,” she encouraged him with a bright smile. “And then—”

“Hi, Grace,” an unfamiliar voice joined them. Both turned to see the newcomer: a boy with dark, perfectly combed hair and impeccable clothes. “I didn’t see you when school let out today.”

“Hi, Thomas. I had to meet up with my friend,” the redhead said, gesturing toward Steve. The blond simply waved. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, well… everyone’s making plans and I thought you might be going too.”

Steve quickly figured out what was happening and, with a knowing smile, took a step back. The boy was clearly trying to get his friend’s attention, though Elizabeth didn’t seem particularly interested in his clumsy attempts.

“Oh, no, I… don’t go out much,” she admitted with a smile that tried to look apologetic. “Where are you all going this afternoon?” she asked, more out of politeness than real interest.

“To the ice cream parlor on the corner. Some of the guys mentioned playing baseball in the park later,” the boy explained, his eyes shining with hope that Elizabeth might change her mind. “If you want to come, I could walk you home afterward.”

“That sounds really fun, but we already have plans, right, Steve?”

Rogers looked momentarily surprised but quickly stepped closer and nodded with an embarrassed smile.

“We’re actually waiting for a friend.”

“Oh. Right, I understand,” the boy replied, clearly disappointed even though he tried not to show it too much. He glanced briefly at Steve before turning his attention back to Elizabeth. “Maybe another day, then.”

“Sure.”

“See you at school, Grace,” Thomas said, giving her one last look before walking away with confident steps.

Once he was far enough away, Elizabeth let out a sigh and turned to Steve, who was now watching her with barely contained amusement.

“What?”

“Grace? Your admirers call you Grace now?”

“He insists on calling me that because he thinks it sounds more sophisticated than Elizabeth,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And Thomas isn’t an admirer… he’s just… persistent.”

“He doesn’t seem like a bad guy, Liz.”

“Well, I don’t know him that much.”

“And it’s pretty obvious he likes you.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to miss.”

“So? Why don’t you give him a chance?” Steve asked, crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow.

Elizabeth let out a soft laugh and shook her head.

“What? Are you my matchmaker now?” “I’m just saying it wouldn’t be bad if you went on a few dates, you know?”

The redhead made a face and shook her head gently. The truth was the idea didn’t appeal to her enough, and it wasn’t that she didn’t like anyone. It was simply that none of the boys who had approached her seemed like suitors who aligned with her ideals.

Most of them wanted a wife who would stay home, take care of the children, and live a simple, predictable life. Elizabeth didn’t see herself in that role, at least not at this point in her life. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she wanted to do with her life, and although her options were quite limited, she knew that staying home and having children until she couldn’t anymore wasn’t one of them.

“It’s just… I don’t want my life to be limited to that, you know? If I go out with someone or get engaged, they’ll do whatever they want with their life while I’ll have to do only what’s expected of me.”

“Have children and be a good wife,” he muttered.

Elizabeth nodded with a grimace.

“I want to know what else is out there so I can figure out what I really want to do. And not everyone is going to agree with that, especially my parents.”

Steve sighed and nodded, understanding exactly what Elizabeth was explaining. He dealt with a similar feeling whenever people reminded him of all the obstacles that stood in the way of him having a life like everyone else’s. In his mind, it should be up to him to decide, not the world.

“Yeah, I get what you mean.” They fell silent for a moment, and Elizabeth felt grateful to have such a good friend. “But, putting all that aside… isn’t there anyone you like?”

“What?”

“I’m just curious,” he said with a shrug, laughing at his friend’s expression.

“No, I don’t—”

“Hey!” Bucky’s voice called from across the street, drawing their attention. “Why are you two eating ice pops without me? That’s a whole new level of betrayal.”

Steve let out a soft chuckle, and just as he was about to reply, his eyes landed on Elizabeth’s face. A spark had appeared in the redhead’s gaze the moment the brunet smiled at her—a brightness Steve had never seen in Liz’s eyes before.

The blond smiled to himself and shook his head gently. It made so much sense.

July 12, 1935

It wasn’t unusual for her to spend time alone with one of them. Sometimes, when Bucky worked late, she and Steve would go out. When Steve was busy helping his mother, she and Bucky would go out.

It didn’t bother her. In fact, she didn’t have a preference for either of them; she loved both the same way… or at least that’s what she had believed until a couple of months ago.

It was becoming obvious to Elizabeth that the way she saw the boys had changed. She had noticed it as early as January that year, when her attention on her classmates began to shift, focusing more on the ones she found particularly good-looking. She thought that was terrible because she didn’t want to seem rude to anyone who didn’t deserve it.

However, even though she found some of the boys at school attractive, none of them seemed as interesting as the boy who now occupied her thoughts far more often than usual. She wasn’t completely sure how it had started. Maybe it had been on Barnes’ own birthday, when she had eaten cake so messily that she ended up with frosting at the corners of her mouth. Bucky, laughing softly, had taken her face between his hands and wiped it away with his own thumb.

She remembered the moment clearly. She replayed it in her mind again and again since it happened. It made her stomach flutter, but not in the way cod liver oil had when her mother made her take it as a little girl. It was the way she felt when she waited eagerly for Christmas morning—that restless excitement that made her chest feel light but kept her mind from staying still.

“Are you mad at me?” the brunet asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Excuse me?” The redhead looked so confused that Bucky couldn’t help letting out a small laugh.

“You look really thoughtful,” he explained, tilting his head slightly. “And usually that means you’re angry with someone. It could be your father or the newspaper stand guy who always gets nervous when you go to buy one. But if it were either of them, you would’ve told me, and you’ve barely said anything since we got here. So my deduction is that I did something that upset you… though honestly, I can’t remember what it was.”

Elizabeth blinked a couple of times, surprised by the conclusion Bucky had reached. She knew him well enough to understand that, even though he spoke lightly, he was genuinely worried he had done something to upset her. And he knew her well enough to come up with that whole theory about her behavior.

“Have you ever thought about becoming a spy?” she teased, bringing the last piece of lemon pie on her fork to her lips. “You didn’t do anything, Barnes,” she answered at last, shaking her head with a small smile.

“Then why are you so quiet?”

Elizabeth shook her head again, trying to make him drop the subject because she wasn’t even sure she wanted to keep thinking about it herself.

“I’m just thinking about some things.”

“What things?”

She let out a tired sigh and quickly thought of something to tell him.

“I’ve been thinking about what to do after school,” she said with a shrug.

That wasn’t entirely a lie. It was something that had been on her mind the last few days, but it wasn’t exactly what she had been thinking about in that moment.

“And what have you thought?”

“Well…” She made a face before deciding to speak. “I think I want to be a nurse like Mom.”

“Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“The original plan was to be a doctor, but Mom said that job is for men,” she shrugged. “Maybe if I start as a nurse I could work a little, study really hard so they’ll admit me to university, and save enough to pay for it.”

Bucky watched her in silence for a moment before leaning forward on the table with his elbows and flashing a crooked smile.

“Let me guess… you haven’t told anyone else about this, have you?”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and looked away, poking at the remains of her lemon pie with her fork.

“Not exactly.”

“I knew something was up,” he said with a hint of triumph in his voice. “Why haven’t you told Steve? Or your mom?”

“The truth is I don’t know how my mother is going to react when she finds out I want to be more than a housewife, you know? And about Steve…” She made a small pout, trying to find the perfect words to describe it. “I guess I don’t want to disappoint him if things don’t turn out well.”

“And since when do you care what everyone else says?”

“It’s not that I care that much. It’s just… sometimes I’m scared that maybe the world is right. I know it’s going to be really hard and that it’ll cost me twice or three times the work of anything else I could choose to do. So I wonder what I’ll do if I don’t make it.”

“And what if you do?”

“Bucky…”

“No, seriously. What if you do make it? What if you prove everyone wrong and become the best doctor this damn country has ever seen?”

The redhead couldn’t help letting out a soft laugh. She shook her head and lowered her gaze, not because she was embarrassed, but because the fact that Bucky believed in her so fiercely only made that strange feeling in her chest grow stronger.

“That sounds a little exaggerated.”

“I don’t think so,” he replied with a shrug. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Elizabeth stayed quiet for a few moments, and seeing that she wasn’t ready to answer, Bucky kept talking.

“Look, if you want to follow the path of becoming a nurse first and then taking the risk of chasing your dream of becoming a doctor, then you should do it. You’ve always been a compassionate person, you’re kind most of the time, you’re smart, and you have this stubborn streak that never gives in to anyone. That’s something that should count for a lot and could take you far no matter what path you choose.”

“It means a lot that you think that.”

“The important thing is that you think it too,” he said seriously. “So it doesn’t matter if you want to be a nurse or a doctor or a baker. Whatever you want to be and do, make sure you don’t give up, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she lowered her gaze to keep the tears from escaping.

That conversation, as helpful as it was, did nothing to steer her thoughts away from her clear attraction to Bucky. If anything, it only made it stronger. He hadn’t told her to do what her parents wanted, or that she shouldn’t try for university because in the end she would get married and do only what was expected of a wife, or that she had been born just to stand beside a man, serve him, and make him happy.

He saw her as a person with her own dreams and ambitions, someone capable of defying the rules and changing her own destiny. And that was exactly what made her like him even more.

September 20, 1935.

Elizabeth ran out of her house, her cheek burning and her face drenched in tears. She didn’t care about the curious stares from people on the street. She simply ran and ran until her legs gave out and she fell to her knees on the pavement, only a few meters away from Steve’s building.

She hadn’t done it on purpose. When she started running, she hadn’t been thinking of any specific destination, but in the end her feet had carried her there—to the only place where she felt she could breathe without the weight on her chest, without the world feeling so unfair.

The tears kept falling, hot and bitter, while she tried to control the sobs that shook her body. She hugged herself, curling over her knees, trying to pull herself together before anyone saw her.

“Elizabeth?” Sarah Rogers’ gentle voice reached her ears.

The redhead wanted to disappear. She hadn’t planned for anyone to find her like this, least of all her best friend’s mother—the woman she had always promised to be strong for, so she could take care of Steve.

Her gaze lifted to her, blurred by tears and the dirt from wiping her face with dirty hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out. Her throat felt tight, trapped between the pain and the shame of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

Sarah didn’t wait for a reply. With her usual kindness, she approached and knelt beside her, placing a warm, steady hand on her shoulder.

“Come inside,” she murmured with a soft smile, helping her to her feet.

Elizabeth nodded faintly and let the woman guide her up to the apartment. The moment she crossed the threshold, the smell of freshly baked bread filled her lungs and a sense of home wrapped around her, making her tears come back even stronger.

Sarah didn’t say a word. She sat her down at the table, offered her a clean handkerchief, and then poured her a cup of chamomile tea, placing it in front of her before sitting in the chair across from her.

“When Steven came home from school crying, I always gave him a little honey in his tea,” she commented with a smile. “I don’t know if it actually helped, but at least it made him talk.”

Elizabeth let out a shaky little sigh and took the cup with trembling hands.

“I want to be a doctor,” she said simply.

“Is that why there’s a bruise on your cheek?”

“My father read my diary,” she answered, shrinking into herself on the chair, deeply embarrassed. “He’s not very happy that I’m still thinking about it. He believes I should be at home with a husband or in a more suitable job for a woman.”

Sarah sighed, taking a moment before responding.

“Men like your father believe the world can only be one way because that’s how they were taught,” she said gently but firmly. “And when something challenges that idea, they react with fear… with anger.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to get married, but I don’t want my future to be reduced to that. I want marriage to be part of my life, not my entire life. I want it to be something I choose, not something I’m forced to do.”

Sarah looked at her with deep understanding, as if she could see straight through her. Then she nodded, as if Elizabeth’s words only confirmed what she already knew.

“You have every right to want more than that. Your life doesn’t have to revolve only around what others expect of you, and you must be the one who protects yourself from the people who want you to blindly follow something just because they think that’s how it should be.”

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough to protect myself from my father,” she murmured, staring into the steam rising from the cup. “I’m scared. I’m scared of failing and him being right. I’m scared of having to face this alone.”

“Being strong doesn’t mean not being afraid, Elizabeth. Being strong is moving forward despite the fear. And what you’re doing—defending your right to choose your own path—is one of the bravest things you can do.”

Elizabeth swallowed, feeling the knot in her throat loosen a little thanks to Sarah’s words. There was something in her tone, in the way she looked at her, that made her feel a little less lost. As if, somehow, she wasn’t so alone in that inner struggle.

“And do you think I can?”

“From now on, ‘I can’t’ has to disappear from your vocabulary, Elizabeth Grace. If someone knocks you down and tells you that you can’t, you get back up, dust yourself off, and keep going—because you can.”

The redhead let out a little giggle that escaped without warning, along with a couple of tears she quickly wiped away.

“And what’s so funny, young lady?”

“Now I see why Steve never runs from a fight.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Sarah answered with a knowing smile. “But I also know there are times when he doesn’t know how to ask for help. So if you ever need someone to help you get back up, you already know where to find me.”

“Thank you, really. I promise I won’t forget.”

Sarah smiled at her with tenderness. She had managed to calm her down and give her a bit of hope. The change in Elizabeth was palpable, as if a weight had been lifted, even if not completely.

“I’ll call your mother. You’ll stay here tonight. Maybe when Steve gets home we can listen to that radio program you both like.”

“Thank you.”

Sarah stood up from the chair, walked over to the telephone, and made a call that lasted just over two minutes. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat back down with Elizabeth, who still looked somewhat lost in her thoughts.

“You said you might want to get married someday?” she asked, trying to lighten the tension the conversation had brought.

Elizabeth’s cheeks turned pink, and the older woman smiled widely.

“It doesn’t seem like a terrible idea at all. I suppose marriage can be something beautiful if you marry the right person. I’ve seen some couples in the park who look very much in love. I’d like someone to love me like that one day.”

“And what kind of person do you want to marry?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “I think I want someone who respects me and supports me, who doesn’t see me as an accessory or something that stays home while the world passes by. Someone who wants to walk beside me, not in front or behind.”

She thought about it a little more and her cheeks warmed again.

“On a more superficial note, I’d like him to make me laugh, to enjoy going dancing and… to be handsome, of course. I like brown hair, I think.”

Sarah let out a laugh and shook her head.

“That sounds a lot like someone I know. He lives a few blocks from here and his name is James.”

“Really? And how is he…?”

Sarah’s knowing look made her fall silent the moment she realized she was talking about Bucky. Her face turned so red it could have competed with the color of her hair.