─── FROM RUSSIA, WITH LOVE.
a winter soldier x reader fanfiction.
★ Prologue. The Cage is open.
⋆ WARNINGS: Graphic violence, child abuse, murder, psychological trauma, gun violence, and depictions of Red Room-style conditioning.
⋆ WORD COUNT: 2.3K
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⋆ 1966 ⋆
“Again.”
You didn’t complain. Not a single protest left your lips, even though the tips of your toes were raw and torn open. The pale pink fabric of your pointe shoes had turned scarlet several minutes ago, but that didn’t mean you could stop.
The wooden floor creaked under your weight as you took position once more, your muscles tight with exhaustion. The air in the room was thick, heavy with the smell of your own sweat and the worn varnish of the barre.
You closed your eyes for a brief moment, inhaled, and as you exhaled, you forced yourself to move, pouring every ounce of strength into not only staying upright but actually performing.
The pain became a distant whisper as you raised your arms and executed the first movement. Your body trembled, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not until they ordered you to. The body of the girl who had gone before you served as a silent reminder—lying a few meters away in a pool of blood that was already staining the wooden floor and threatening to reach you soon.
It didn’t worry you. It meant nothing. That girl, whose name you barely knew, was just one more who had failed. Just one more of the many who would come after her and fail too.
You would not fail. You weren’t allowed to. You were the best of them all.
Or at least that’s what they had told you countless times, and you had chosen to believe it. You never failed.
“Higher.”
You corrected the angle of your leg in a perfect arabesque, moving with the precision of a well-trained machine. A small smile of satisfaction spread across your face as you continued the routine you had memorized perfectly over the years.
The silence in the room was broken only by the soft scraping of your pointe shoes against the wooden floor and the controlled rhythm of your breathing. You didn’t need music—the melody was already burned into your mind, just like the endless set of rules that had forged you.
“Stop.”
Your body abandoned the position and remained still, waiting for the next order. The woman and the man observing you smiled, pleased, and exchanged a glance.
“I told you she was perfect,” the woman said. The man nodded—not as if agreeing, but as if approving something. “Bring him in.”
Footsteps echoed across the wooden floor, precise and disciplined. You didn’t move. You knew it wasn’t your time to act yet; you simply had to wait for the next command.
The guards were dragging something… or rather, someone. A man.
They dropped him heavily onto the floor. He didn’t look well. His clothes were dirty and torn, and a rag covered his head, hiding his face.
One of the guards approached you with a wooden box. Inside, a Makarov gleamed under the room’s lights. It looked brand new. You didn’t need to be told what to do. You knew they wanted you to take it, so you did. The weight of the gun in your hand felt so familiar that it almost gave you a false sense of security. It reminded you that, beyond all of this, you didn’t know much else.
You looked at the pistol, then at the man, then at the woman in charge.
She held your gaze calmly. There was something expectant in her eyes, but not impatient. In fact, her blood-red lips curved slightly into a faint smile.
The man on the floor groaned as one of the guards roughly yanked the rag off his head. His face was exposed under the bright lights.
He was older, with weathered skin and sharp cheekbones. There was an open wound on his forehead and dried blood at the corner of his mouth.
You blinked, your face expressionless. Then, after a few seconds, the man’s face twisted in pain and he began to cry.
You didn’t recognize him, but it seemed he recognized you, judging by the heartbreaking sobs that tore from his throat.
“You know what to do,” the woman said with a nod.
You turned to look at the man again and took a step closer. You inhaled deeply, tightened your grip on the pistol, and raised it, aiming directly at your target.
“Please… Please—”
He didn’t finish. The gunshot filled the room, and the bullet that tore through his forehead silenced his words forever. His body collapsed heavily onto the floor with a dull thud. You returned the pistol to the wooden box it had come from and looked at the woman, who was now smiling widely.
“Perfect.”
⋆ 1972 ⋆
Your eyes snapped open two seconds before the annoying blare of the alarm clock could startle you. You turned it off immediately, stretching to reach it on the nightstand. Moonlight slipped through the window and reflected off the metal of the Makarov resting on top of the books, illuminating it enough for the engraved initials of your name to become visible.
A grimace of discomfort crossed your face as a sharp pang of pain shot through your right wrist. You were surprised to see the handcuffs around your arm, securing you to the headboard. Not surprised that they were there, but that you had actually forgotten about them. After all, you had slept like this for most of your life.
You shook your head and felt under your pillow for the key. Once you found it, you unlocked the cuffs and got out of bed.
Every day followed the same routine: you woke up at four-thirty in the morning no matter where you were, trained for an hour and a half, then took a shower with water as hot as your body could stand without burning. You ate the same breakfast you had eaten your entire life—two hard-boiled eggs, a green apple, and black coffee with no sugar. You didn’t like it, but you were used to it.
Then you dressed in whatever clothes best suited the situation you were expected to face. When you went to the offices, you allowed yourself more eye-catching outfits. Adapting to your environment was part of your training; it was another form of control.
Dressing according to other people’s expectations could be a tool, a distraction, a mask, a trap.
An illusion, like so many other things around you.
You had recently returned from an undercover operation in northern Czechoslovakia and had been inactive for nearly a month since then. The waiting had unsettled you more than you cared to admit. No one in your line of work stayed idle for that long unless they were being evaluated, and you couldn’t understand whether you had made some kind of mistake.
You had gone over every move from the operation: the infiltration, the contact with the target, the extraction of information, the elimination of the witness. Everything had gone according to plan, but you couldn’t stop wondering if you had failed somewhere.
The call came early that day, even by your standards. A neutral voice, completely devoid of courtesy.
“Sublevel three. Code Zima.”
You set off immediately, not forgetting to secure the Makarov at your belt and hide it beneath a long trench coat. You got in the car and drove exactly fifteen minutes to Dzerzhinsky Square. You could have made it faster, but winter was at its harshest and the snowfall made it nearly impossible to see more than a few meters ahead.
When you arrived at the facility, the security guard greeted you with a simple nod, then opened the elevator reserved for authorized personnel and pressed a quick sequence of buttons that took you straight down to the underground level.
The familiarity of the route did nothing to ease the tension weighing on your shoulders. You needed answers as soon as possible. You needed to know if they were thinking of discarding you, and if so, what mistake you had made.
When the doors opened, you were met with a long corridor ending in a heavy metal and concrete door, as crude and utilitarian as most postwar constructions.
You didn’t need to knock. An internal mechanism clicked sharply and the door opened just enough with a metallic groan. You pushed it with your right hand, showing no hesitation, and stepped inside.
You weren’t surprised when the barrel of a pistol immediately pressed against your forehead. It was routine, and you had long since become desensitized to it. You didn’t even react to the cold metal against your skin.
“Your code, agent.”
“Zima.”
The gun barrel was withdrawn at once. Only then did you remove the earrings you were wearing, along with the pair of bracelets adorning your wrists, and placed them in a metal tray before continuing forward.
The room wasn’t large—just a rectangular space lit by a single hanging lamp in the middle of the ceiling. Its constant buzzing only added another layer to the depressing atmosphere. The walls were bare concrete and carried a strong smell of bleach that unsuccessfully tried to mask the underlying stench of dampness.
In the center of the room stood a single metal table with two chairs. One of them was occupied by a man whose face was so familiar it almost brought a flicker of warmth to your chest.
He said your name as a greeting as his tired eyes settled on you, his voice sounding almost human for a fraction of a second.
“Director Azimov.”
He stood up and took you by the shoulders, leaning in to place two kisses on your cheeks. A wide smile appeared on your face—one you weren’t used to, but one that always surfaced when you were near him, no matter how much you tried to resist it.
He gestured for you to sit in the chair across from him. You obeyed almost immediately and watched as he returned to his seat. There were a few minutes of silence while the gray-haired man gathered his thoughts. Then he cleared his throat and spoke again.
“The mission in Czechoslovakia was exceptional” he said simply.
His tone might have sounded monotonous, but you knew he didn’t give compliments or praise lightly. Every word he spoke had a purpose, and if he was telling you that you had done well, then it was true. You almost allowed yourself to breathe with relief when you realized you hadn’t failed—that you were performing exactly as expected.
“Thank you,” you accepted the praise with quiet pride, keeping your emotions tightly controlled.
“That’s why we believe you’re ready for the next one,” he said, resting his hand on the folder lying on the table. “This is a different mission. More delicate.”
“What’s the objective?” you asked calmly.
Azimov didn’t answer. Instead, he slid the folder toward you.
“You can’t take it with you,” he warned. “You must memorize it. There will be no second reading.”
You took the folder and opened it. After reading just the first few lines, you realized the mission was so confidential that even for you, parts of the information were censored. There were coordinates for a settlement in the north of the country. It was an extraction mission, but there was no name to give you any clues—no title. That struck you as strange, since extraction missions usually involved politicians or scientists.
“Is he one of our agents?” you asked, not taking your eyes off the report.
The man nodded slowly.
“Someone tried to kidnap him, but they didn’t get very far,” Azimov explained, interlacing his fingers on the table. “Asset 17 must be handled with extreme caution, so we need someone capable of recovering him from where we believe he’s being held prisoner.”
You continued flipping through the report, searching for anything beyond code names and thick black lines hiding the truth. Finally, you found it: an old photograph, worn at the edges. A male face with expressionless eyes and slightly long, disheveled hair.
You had never seen this man in your life, yet something in his gaze unsettled you, causing a tight pressure in your chest that you chose to ignore.
“We lost contact a couple of hours ago. We don’t know if he’s injured or what his mental state is, but you should know he can be… erratic.”
“Is he armed?”
Azimov let out a low chuckle that made you frown.
“He is the Winter Soldier. He is the weapon.”
Your blood ran cold at the name. Of course you knew it. But for most of your life, you and the other girls at the academy had called him something else.
You had feared him. You feared him because you had seen him in action—killing, mutilating, torturing. Because he had occasionally trained you, though he always kept his face covered, which only made him more terrifying.
You called him Baba Yaga. It wasn’t just a name. The girls spoke of him in whispers, like a warning, as if saying his name out loud might summon him before them.
Your drive to be perfect in training came partly from the terrible punishments you suffered when you weren’t, and partly from the terror that the Red Room would bring him to punish you. They never did, but the fear remained until the very last day you spent inside those walls.
You closed the folder with a quiet sigh and gave a small nod, accepting the mission. It wasn’t as if you had a choice. At least not one where you walked away unharmed. Refusal was synonymous with treason, and treason was paid for dearly in this country.
Azimov watched your reaction carefully, measuring the tension still visible in your shoulders and the way your fingers gripped the edges of the closed file. He knew what the name Winter Soldier stirred up. He also knew that if anyone could face him, it was you.
“Your transport is ready,” he said at last, breaking the heavy silence. “You leave in one hour. The containment team will not be accompanying you this time. This mission is yours alone.”
SYNOPSIS: Doubting is treason. In the Soviet Union, treason is paid for with death.
You’ve known this since you were a child. The words are burned into your mind. But sometimes, that ironclad truth cracks in your chest—especially when your path collides with the Winter Soldier.
He is nothing like the monster the Red Room made you fear. He is only a man… or what remains of one. And the closer you get to him, the more everything you’ve been taught begins to fracture under a new, dangerous light of understanding.
Assigned as his handler, you watch as fragmented memories torment him with increasing frequency, slowly revealing the humanity buried beneath the weapon. You begin to share his doubts, and when a final order makes you realize how tightly the chain binds both of you, you’ll have to make a choice: follow the path you were forged for, or risk everything in search of the closest thing to freedom you can find.
PAIRING: Winter Soldier x Black Widow! Reader.
WARNINGS: Graphic Violence: Descriptions of combat, torture, murders, and physical injuries, including mutilations and the consequences of inhuman experiments.
Psychological Trauma and Abuse: Themes of emotional manipulation, abuse of power by institutions, PTSD, induced amnesia, and the exploration of fragmented identities. Includes flashbacks to childhood abuse and forced orphanhood.
Explicit Sexual Content: Scenes of consensual intimacy between adults as a coping mechanism for shared trauma. It is not the main erotic focus, but it includes sensory descriptions of physical and emotional connection, with emphasis on vulnerability and healing.
From Russia, with Love is a fictional story set during the Cold War in the Soviet Union. It includes sensitive depictions of historical and fictional events, ideologies, and political contexts of the era.
This work does not reflect the author’s personal beliefs nor promote any extreme ideologies. It is a creative narrative inspired by the Marvel universe and espionage themes, taking liberties that prioritize storytelling over strict historical accuracy.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time writing an x reader story, so I’m a bit nervous but very excited to share it with you. English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing. I’ve done my best to make it flow naturally, but feel free to point out any errors gently if you spot them.
──SET THE WORLD ON FIRE
Chapter 2. Little Battles Of Our Youth.
chapter warnings: references to child abuse and domestic violence, period-typical sexism and racism, unwanted romantic advances, implied threat of violence against women, brief physical altercation
word count: 7.4k
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November 8, 1935.
She yawned for what felt like the hundredth time that day, slung her schoolbag over her shoulders, and started walking. Her feet and arms ached from having spent the last hour standing on the corner with four books in each hand, trying not to let them fall as part of her punishment for answering her teacher disrespectfully.
She pressed her lips into a thin line as she remembered the exact moment when Miss Miller’s patience had run out. It wasn’t her fault the woman had such blatant favoritism toward certain students and that she wasn’t one of them, but Elizabeth wasn’t the type to stay quiet when something felt unfair.
It hadn’t even been that bad—just a comment about what a terrible teacher she was, only paying attention to her favorite pupils.
To make everything worse, they had punished her on her birthday. The day that was supposed to be filled with small but meaningful joys was going terribly wrong. And to top it all off, she wouldn’t even get to see Bucky or Steve because both of them were busy.
She made a face and pulled her coat tighter around herself, trying to keep the cold air from seeping into her bones and making her sick. That would just be the cherry on top. She looked at her building with disdain the moment she approached it. Usually she liked coming home to its warmth, but today she wanted to be anywhere but there.
She took the stairs two at a time, hoping she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew because she wasn’t in the mood to stop and chat. Her fingers searched for the keys in her coat pocket, and when she found them she let out a sigh before unlocking the door.
It was Friday, which meant her father wasn’t home—he went out drinking and wouldn’t be back until Saturday afternoon, caring little about celebrating his daughter’s birthday. Not that she would have been thrilled to celebrate with him anyway.
Her mother worked until the early hours of the morning, and although she usually had warm little gestures for her on her birthday, this time she had to stay at the hospital. That meant Elizabeth would be alone.
Alone on her birthday.
She swallowed the lump in her throat as she hung her coat and schoolbag on the hook behind the door. The curtains were drawn and only a faint orange light filtered in through the kitchen window, but aside from that the apartment was almost completely dark.
“Well, it’s not that big a deal,” she whispered to herself, trying to soothe the sadness she felt.
That was when she felt hands closing around her shoulders. Panic flooded her instantly. A shiver ran from the base of her neck all the way to the soles of her feet. She didn’t think twice—she drew in a sharp breath, spun around, and threw her fist forward, hitting whatever—or whoever—was behind her square in the face.
Unfortunately, she hit her target. Unfortunately, because in that same moment she recognized the person who had surprised her.
“Oh my God, Bucky!” she exclaimed, dropping her defensive stance and rushing toward him.
The brunet was doubled over, pressing his fingers to his nose and groaning in pain while muttering curses under his breath, careful that she wouldn’t hear them clearly.
“Are you okay?” the redhead asked, grabbing his shoulders and trying to see his face in the dim light.
Bucky opened his eyes, trying to ignore the tears clouding them from the pain and controlling the grimaces that twisted his features—which only made Elizabeth let out a small laugh she couldn’t hold back.
“Give me a second,” he muttered, still processing the pain. “I didn’t know you hit that hard.”
“I’m so sorry, Buck!” Saying she was extremely embarrassed for punching him like that was an understatement, but then something clicked in her head and she frowned. “What are you doing here like that? It’s your fault!”
“Yeah, yeah, It is,” he finally straightened up, though his face still held a grimace that wouldn’t fade anytime soon. “I wanted to surprise you for your birthday. Rebecca baked you a cake, sent it with a card and everything.”
The redhead’s expression softened instantly. She took a couple of steps back and finally turned on the light. The first thing she noticed was Bucky—he had changed out of his factory clothes and looked quite dressed up, which only made her feel worse for hitting him.
The second thing she noticed was the chocolate cake on the table. It looked so delicious it reminded her she hadn’t eaten anything all afternoon.
“Happy birthday!” Bucky exclaimed, smiling despite the pain and opening his arms to pull her into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Elizabeth’s face crumpled in a matter of seconds. The worry and happiness vanished, giving way to the pout Bucky knew all too well—the one the redhead always made right before she started to cry.
All the emotions she had bottled up since the moment her teacher scolded her seemed to explode inside her chest, turning into uncontrollable crying that wiped the smile clean off Bucky’s face.
“Lizzie?”
Bucky frowned in concern, lowering his arms awkwardly as he watched her break down like that. It wasn’t unusual for Elizabeth to get angry or frustrated—in fact, it happened quite often—but seeing her cry like this, with her lips trembling and her shoulders shaking, twisted his stomach.
“Hey, hey…” he murmured, approaching her cautiously. He took her face between his hands and gently tilted it upward so he could look into her eyes. “What’s wrong? Is it because of the punch? I’m fine! I’ve been hit way worse, I swear.”
A laugh escaped her lips through the tears, but it wasn’t enough to stop them. The brunet looked genuinely worried and didn’t know what else to do but wrap her in his arms and wait for her to calm down. It took her a couple of minutes, but finally the crying eased, leaving only soft sobs and sighs while Bucky stroked her hair with slow, soothing movements.
“I’m sorry,” this time it was the redhead’s turn to apologize. “I had a terrible day and I thought I was going to spend my birthday alone. I… I’m just being emotional, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he smiled, lifting her chin with his index finger so she would look at him. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. And of course we weren’t going to let you spend your birthday alone. What kind of friends would we be if we did that?”
“Is Steve coming too?” she asked, her eyes lighting up instantly, which made Bucky grin from ear to ear.
“Actually, we have something planned for you.”
Elizabeth frowned and looked at him curiously, because she knew that when Bucky used that tone it meant whatever they were about to do wasn’t entirely proper and many of those times ended in trouble. Though, of course, most of those situations were catalogued by the redhead as some of the best days of her life.
“Something planned?”
“We’ll celebrate here as soon as Steve gets here, then we’re taking you dancing.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise. She had begged Bucky to take her to one of the dance halls he usually went to with the girls he dated, but he had always refused, saying he would take her when she was older. Back then, Elizabeth hadn’t been sure whether Bucky refused because he really thought she should wait until the right time or because he kept that activity reserved for his conquests. But whatever the reason, it didn’t matter now. He had finally decided to take her, and that was all that occupied her mind.
Not specifically the fact that she would be dancing with Bucky, but the fact that she was going dancing at all. She had dreamed of going to one of those places ever since she used to watch people in Harlem, hidden behind bushes or, when she could, from her window, secretly observing her neighbors dancing on the porch until the early hours of the morning. Experiencing that joy firsthand lit a fire inside her that she couldn’t explain with words.
“Really? You’re not joking?” she asked seriously, pointing at him with her index finger.
“Steve and I think it’s a good idea,” he said simply, smiling. “Besides, I’d rather your first time dancing be with us and not with some idiot who asks you.”
She was sure that had made her blush, and she had to look away to avoid the spark of amusement in Bucky’s eyes.
“Where’s Steve?” she asked, clearing her throat and trying to change the subject completely.
“He shouldn’t be long. In the meantime, why don’t you go put on that pretty dress Sarah made for you?”
The redhead’s eyes lit up at the mention of the dress. Steve’s mother had made it for her to wear on a special day, and until now she hadn’t had the chance.
“Okay! Give me a few minutes.”
She was happy—more than happy. Her day had gone from the worst birthday in the history of birthdays to one that promised to be the best of all.
She was about to run to her room to get ready when she stopped, turned back with a smile, approached Bucky, took him by the shoulders, rose on her tiptoes, and left a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you, Bucky,” she whispered sincerely before quickly pulling away, not giving him time to respond.
He stood frozen for a second, feeling the heat rise to his face. He brought a hand to his cheek, unable to stop the smile that formed on his lips.
Elizabeth walked arm in arm with Steve, laughing loudly without caring about the disapproving looks people gave her. Behind them, Bucky watched with a bright smile on his face, though he couldn’t stop a slight pang from settling in his chest. It wasn’t jealousy—or at least that’s what he told himself—because he was completely sure he didn’t like Elizabeth that way. She was his best friend. Still, he couldn’t help wondering why she always seemed so much more comfortable with Steve.
He knew it wasn’t common for a girl to prefer Steve over him. In fact, it had never happened before. But he also knew that Elizabeth had this ability to see beyond a person’s appearance, and in that sense, Steve was infinitely better than him. Maybe that was why the redhead always seemed to choose the blond’s company over his.
He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, trying to push those senseless thoughts away. Besides, it wasn’t like he wanted Elizabeth to look at him that way. Not at all.
“Bucky?” the redhead’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
When his eyes met Elizabeth’s, he couldn’t help smiling at her. It was almost an instant reaction—his body smiled the moment he saw her.
“Sorry… I got lost for a second,” he apologized sincerely. “What were you saying?”
“I was telling Liz that I think it’s better if she walks into the hall on your arm,” Steve interrupted. Elizabeth frowned at him. “If she goes in with me, people will think they can flirt with her easily because I won’t be able to punch them… which, technically, would be true.”
“My plan tonight is not for Steve to end up getting beaten up in an alley,” the redhead muttered, looking at her friend with a hint of pity. “But I’m not planning on flirting with anyone either.”
“Some men are idiots, Liz. They won’t care whether you want to flirt with them or not,” the blond said.
Elizabeth immediately made a face and nodded, inwardly regretting that she couldn’t enjoy a single night out without external factors feeling like a threat.
“If the lady requires an escort capable of scaring off potential jerks, then I believe I’m the man for the job,” Bucky finally said, stepping forward and offering his arm.
She sighed and nodded, letting go of Steve’s arm and linking hers with Bucky’s instead. She forced a smile, trying to steady the erratic beat of her heart—the one that always seemed to go wild whenever he was close. She had to get control of herself. She couldn’t just fall apart simply because the brunet’s smile gave her butterflies in her stomach.
“Let’s go then.”
Elizabeth seemed absolutely delighted teaching Steve some Lindy Hop steps she had learned from her neighbors and, sometimes, from her parents when they were in a good mood and danced at home. Her laughter filled the air, and although she wasn’t aware of it, her vibrant energy had several people around them entertained.
Bucky watched them with a smile from the corner of the hall. It was Steve’s turn to dance with Elizabeth, so he had taken a moment to catch his breath while sipping a beer.
Even though he looked perfectly happy watching the two of them, he couldn’t stop his gaze from lingering on the redhead. Bucky wasn’t a complete idiot, and he had perfectly functional eyes, so he knew full well that Elizabeth was beautiful. But that night she simply seemed to be exceeding even her own expectations. Maybe it was the way she had styled her hair, letting those soft waves fall down her back. Maybe it was the fact that she had dared to wear the red lipstick Rebecca had given her. Maybe it was the emerald green of the dress she was wearing that made her shine brighter than she should, because it matched her eyes perfectly.
“Is she your girl?” a voice beside him suddenly pulled him out of his thoughts.
It was a woman, at least a decade older than him, but still beautiful, with raven hair and blue eyes. She was looking at him with curiosity and a hint of amusement. She spoke with a slight accent Bucky hadn’t heard before, but it didn’t sound local, so he assumed she was a foreigner.
“No, she’s my best friend.”
“Then you should tell that to your face, darling,” she commented with a laugh. Bucky frowned.
“Excuse me?”
“One of my friends wanted to ask her to dance,” she began to explain. “He said it wouldn’t be hard to compete with her boyfriend—” she paused to point at Steve “—but I told him that her boyfriend was you, because of the way you’re looking at her.”
“I’m not her boyfriend,” he said firmly, though he didn’t understand why hearing himself say those words gave him a sharp pang in his chest.
“Not yet,” the woman pointed out with a teasing smile.
“If your friend wants to ask her to dance, he can. I’m no one to tell him he can’t.”
“Look, men are idiots,” she said simply. “And they’re also slow. What will probably take you months or years to figure out, I noticed in just a few minutes by watching the way your eyes are glued to her.”
“Why do you even care? I’m just a stranger you’ll probably never see again in your life.”
“I was in the same situation as you,” she said before lighting a cigarette. “I was in love with my best friend when I was seventeen, but I never told him. Then he died in a bar fight.”
Bucky fell silent. The air between them suddenly grew thick. The woman had dropped those words with such casualness that it took him a moment to process them.
“What…?”
“Now I hate people who wait too long.”
“And you go around offering advice to anyone you see waiting too long?”
“Not really. I decided to do a good deed today.”
“I see. Well, I’m fine like this, don’t take it the wrong way. I’m really sorry about what happened to your friend, but my situation is different. I’m not in love with her, she’s not my girlfriend, and she never will be.”
The woman nodded. She didn’t seem upset, offended, or anything of the sort. In fact, she looked quite calm, and her smile was just as bright as when she had first spoken.
“Just think about it. And if something goes wrong… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Without saying much more, the strange woman walked away, leaving him with an equally strange feeling lodged in his chest. He didn’t exactly know why.
The hall, filled with music, laughter, and conversations, suddenly seemed much louder. But he felt detached from all of it. His eyes searched for Elizabeth again. She was still dancing with Steve, enjoying the moment. Everything around him seemed to be in its place, but he still felt unsettled. That unconventional conversation with the woman had planted questions in his mind that hadn’t been there before.
What was that feeling that settled inside him when he wondered if Elizabeth liked him less than Steve? Why did he find it almost impossible to look away from her? Did her eyes seem pretty simply because they were green, or was there another reason behind it?
Maybe…
No. He wasn’t in love with her.
“It was the best birthday in the world,” she murmured, smiling as they climbed the stairs.
It was nearly ten at night. Steve had gone to the hospital to pick up his mother, and Bucky had insisted on walking Elizabeth home, flatly refusing to let her walk alone in the dark.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I know we didn’t have hamburgers like we usually do for birthdays, but I hope the change was worth it.”
“It was. It was completely worth it.”
When they reached the door of her apartment, Elizabeth stopped and pulled the keys from her purse. Bucky stayed one step behind, watching her closely. He desperately wanted to wipe the smile that appeared on his face every time he looked at her, but it was impossible.
Once the redhead found the key, she turned to look at her friend. She felt her own breath catch in her chest when she realized he was staring at her. This was exactly why she didn’t like being alone with Bucky—because no matter what she did, she felt terribly nervous.
She did her best to stay calm. It was the least she could do after he had planned the whole day for her. She couldn’t just say goodbye and leave it at that. She cleared her throat and sighed.
“I don’t know if I’ve told you before, but I’m really grateful for everything you do for me.”
“You’re my best friend, Liz. I’d do it again and again if it meant you were okay and happy.”
“Well, thank you for that too,” she said with a warmer smile, trying to hide the strange tightness she always felt in her chest whenever he called her his friend. “And for everything else. It really means a lot to me.”
She lowered her gaze to her hands, fidgeting with the keys between her fingers. Then Bucky took her hands, and that made her lift her face as quickly as she could. Her cheeks burned when she met his blue eyes.
The woman’s words flashed through Bucky’s mind, and for a second he felt so confused he actually felt dizzy.
“You know I’ll always be there when you need me, right? Always.”
Even he didn’t sound entirely sure he wanted to say what he was saying. It wasn’t a lie—it was genuine, something he truly felt—but it wasn’t the first thought that had crossed his mind.
“I know, Bucky,” she answered with a nervous smile. “I’ll always be there for you too.”
“And you know you can tell me anything.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly, feeling her pulse quicken.
“I know,” she repeated, unable to look away from him.
In truth, she wanted to tell him so many things. She wanted to tell him how confused she was about him and all the attention he gave her. She wanted to tell him that every time he called her his friend, something inside her chest twisted painfully. She wanted to tell him that she had started seeing him in a different light, that she always avoided being alone with him because she didn’t know how to act without embarrassing herself…
But she couldn’t. Not when she knew he only saw her as his best friend. She couldn’t say all those things and expect nothing to change between them.
For his part, Bucky wanted her to be honest about her feelings for Steve, because if she did, then he could convince himself he didn’t like Elizabeth—she was his best friend’s girl. That way he could stop making things up in his head that only confused him more.
Neither of them said anything, and Bucky supposed he should just ask her directly. However, he didn’t feel brave enough to do it right then.
“Good night, Lizzie,” he murmured, leaning toward her without letting go of her hands. “Get some rest.”
He dared to press a kiss to her cheek, letting his lips linger against her skin a few seconds longer than necessary. Elizabeth’s heart stopped for an instant—or at least that was how it felt.
The brush of Bucky’s lips against her cheek was enough to make her stomach tighten and her skin burn. It wasn’t the first time he had kissed her cheek like that—he was always affectionate—but this time it felt… different.
More intentional.
“Good night, Buck,” she whispered, grateful she didn’t trip over her own words.
Bucky smiled, though his expression seemed more serious than usual. Then, slowly, he released her hands and took a step back.
Elizabeth felt a shiver run through her body the moment the warmth of his touch disappeared. She blinked a couple of times and gave him a smile before finally turning on her heels to open the door and step inside her apartment as quickly as she could.
On the other side of the door, Bucky remained still in the hallway for a few seconds before letting out a sigh and turning to leave.
He was definitely in trouble, and the worst part was that he didn’t know how to start fixing it.
May 9, 1936.
The redhead let out a heavy sigh as she rolled over on the floor, grabbed the sheets of paper beside her, and used them to fan herself and cool down a little.
“This heat is going to kill me,” she muttered, running a thin cloth along the back of her neck to wipe away the sweat. “Can’t we really go to the beach? We still have to celebrate Bucky’s birthday.”
“His birthday was two months ago,” Steve complained, making a face. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to celebrate?”
“I’m just saying we could go to Brighton Beach and swim a bit,” she said with a shrug.
Steve was about to reply, but at that moment the apartment door burst open. Bucky walked in with both hands full, carrying two ice cream cones. Judging by the stain on his shirt, one of them was already melting.
“I caught the ice cream man,” he said with a wide grin, hurrying over to hand them theirs.
“You’re a hero, Barnes,” Elizabeth said before starting to eat her ice cream. “I’m sure the heat is one of the worst things that could have happened to the world.”
“I’m sure there’s something worse,” Steve shrugged. Then his gaze shifted to Bucky, who was about to take off his shirt. “What are you doing?” he asked, scandalized.
“My shirt’s dirty.”
“Liz is here!” the blond protested.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and took a big lick of her ice cream before shrugging with complete calm.
“It’s really hot and his shirt is dirty. I’m not going to make a drama out of it, Steve,” she said simply. “Besides, I’ve seen both of you with less clothes than a simple undershirt. Remember last November? You had a fever and your mom wasn’t home. I had to put cold compresses all over your body.”
Steve’s face turned bright red and he looked away.
“That was different. It was a medical thing.”
“Relax, Steve, I’m not naked,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes in amusement and tossing his shirt carelessly onto a chair. “Although if you want me to make you uncomfortable, I have a question for both of you.”
Both of them frowned at him, waiting for him to continue and explain.
“You’ve got less than a month left of school. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“Actually… yes,” Elizabeth murmured, making both boys turn to look at her. Of the two of them, she was the one who had had the most doubts about her future. “I know it’s almost impossible for any school to accept me to become a doctor, and I don’t have enough money to pay for it either, so I’m going to start by becoming a nurse.”
“Lizzie, that’s really good,” Steve said, smiling. “I’m sure you’ll do amazing.”
Bucky smiled softly and nodded in agreement. He already knew about Elizabeth’s plan, but he was still excited that she hadn’t given up on it. Truthfully, it made him proud to know she had stayed firm in what she wanted.
“Really?” she asked, surprised. “You don’t think it’s a waste of time?”
“Not at all,” he said firmly. “If we had the resources to fight for a spot at university, we’d do it without hesitation. But I know those things are never in our favor, especially for women, so what you’re doing is an incredible plan.”
“The only problem is that I have to wait until I turn eighteen to be accepted at one of the hospitals. While I wait, I’ll work for a few months to save some money,” she explained with a smile. “What about you, Steve? Do you still want to go to art school?”
“Yeah, I still want to. Even though I know art isn’t a career that’ll give me good money, I think I’ll work night shifts around school too.”
“Wow… it looks like you two have everything figured out,” Bucky said, smiling. “I’m glad you know for sure what you want.”
Even though he was happy for his two best friends’ decisions, there was a certain ache in his chest knowing that, maybe someday, they would become important figures in society while he stayed stuck as just another Brooklyn kid whose wings had been clipped too soon.
He didn’t complain about having to work to help feed his family. He didn’t complain about his father’s death either, because he knew life could be unfair sometimes. What he complained about was the terrible economy of his country and the problems it brought to people like him.
If he had had the chance, he would have liked to be a man of science. During his school years he had realized he was really good with numbers and he also liked reading and writing, but his mind always drifted toward why things worked the way they did. That had led him to take apart a couple of radios when he was little.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, James Barnes?” Elizabeth asked when she saw him lost in thought for a moment.
“Nothing,” he said simply, smiling softly to reassure her. “I was just wondering if you’ll forget about me when you both become important people.”
“Is that a damn joke?” Steve asked, frowning and shaking his head, which made the redhead burst into laughter. “It’s hellishly hot in here, I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know could sweat, and you’re asking that?”
“It’s a genuine doubt!” Bucky defended himself, throwing a pillow at Steve’s head and unable to hold back the giggles at the blond’s exaggerated reaction.
“We could never forget you, even if we became Presidents of the United States, right, Steve?”
“It’s true. We said you’d be with us always and that condemned you, so no, there’s no chance of that happening.”
And Bucky really hoped that was true.
May 14, 1936
The weight of the schoolbag on her back disappeared, and that made her turn around almost immediately. She let out a tired sigh when she realized who it was.
“I can carry my own bag, Thomas,” she said in a tone that would have made it clear she wasn’t particularly fond of his company. However, the boy didn’t seem to notice those details.
Or maybe he did notice and simply chose to ignore them, in which case he only became more undesirable to her.
“And what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you do it?” he asked, smiling sideways at her.
“One who respects my personal space, I suppose. The world could use more of those.”
The boy let out a loud laugh that made the redhead smile uncomfortably.
At first, Thomas’s persistence had even seemed sweet to her, because it surprised her that a boy could be so interested. However, as soon as Elizabeth decided to pay him more attention from time to time, she realized he was nowhere near what she would consider a good candidate.
He had approached her the first few times with the façade of a nice, kind boy. Not long after, she realized he was the complete opposite: he made hurtful comments about people who didn’t deserve them, he smoked and drank, and he didn’t seem to care much about school—something Elizabeth wouldn’t have minded if he at least had some focus on a job or a hobby. Thomas only seemed to enjoy going out in the afternoons wherever there was a cigarette and a drink.
What Elizabeth disliked the most, though, was the fact that the boy seemed far too violent. There were certain attitudes that gave him away: the way he seemed to lose his temper when he didn’t agree with something. She had never seen him hit anyone outright, but she had noticed the unnecessarily hard shoves he gave his friends, the tugs on his little sister’s hair when they walked home together after school.
Other people let those things slide as “a strong temper, typical of a man of the times.” To her, they only reminded her of her father—the shoves he gave her mother when the food was cold, the subtle pinches she herself received when she didn’t behave the way she was supposed to.
Elizabeth definitely didn’t want another man like that in her life, and she did everything possible to keep Thomas at a distance. The truth was she had never set a clear boundary with him, not because she didn’t want to, but because she had heard what had happened to a girl from a couple of grades above her. The girl had tried to reject a boy, and he had beaten her so badly he sent her to the hospital.
She knew how to defend herself, of course, but that was exactly what kept her cautious. No matter how well she could fight back, Thomas was taller and stronger than she was. She didn’t have many physical advantages, and she wasn’t an expert in combat either. Still, she knew that if he ever tried anything, she wouldn’t stay quiet—she would fight back. And Elizabeth knew all too well the consequences of that. Her father had shown her a couple of times already.
“You’re so funny, Grace,” he said, slinging her schoolbag over his own shoulder. “Why don’t you let me walk you home this afternoon?”
“My father doesn’t like seeing me with strangers,” she explained simply. “And he’ll be waiting for me on the corner, so I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“But they do let you go out with that blond friend of yours?” he asked in a dismissive tone that managed to touch a sensitive nerve.
“It’s not that I owe you any explanations, but my mother and his work together, so Steve is a family friend.”
Thomas frowned, clearly annoyed by the clarification that was meant to defend the boy, and although he said nothing, Elizabeth felt the air grow tense.
“You’re not thinking of marrying him, are you?” he asked again, his tone insulting.
Elizabeth could tolerate many things directed at herself, but when someone dared to insult one of her two closest friends, something inside her ignited and it was almost impossible to control.
“Would there be a problem if that were the case?” Her words came out much stronger than she had intended, and she stopped walking.
That surprised the boy, who also stopped and immediately turned to get closer to her again.
“You’re joking, right?” he said with a hint of disbelief. “I’ve been trying to go out with you for a while now, and you’re telling me that guy has a better chance than I do?”
“Excuse me?”
“Please, Gracie, he’s so short I can’t even call him a man. Why would you go out with him?”
That was enough for the fury in Elizabeth’s chest to act before her brain could catch up. Her fist slammed straight into the left side of Thomas’s cheek. She wasn’t fully aware of what she had done until he staggered back a couple of steps, clutching the spot where the punch had landed hard. The redhead stared at her own hand, still trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline, while her breathing came fast and heavy with contained anger.
Elizabeth’s schoolbag fell to the ground, and before she could pick it up, someone else beat her to it. It was a girl she recognized as the daughter of the man who owned the fruit stand. The girl grabbed her hand and pulled her, urging her to run.
“Come back here, Grace!” Thomas shouted behind them.
“Run,” the girl said, still tugging on her hand.
Elizabeth didn’t ask questions—she simply followed. Thomas’s hurried footsteps behind them stopped a few streets later, and the two girls were able to slow down from the exhausting run. They stopped beside a diner, trying to catch their breath.
“I’m sorry,” the girl apologized, letting go of Elizabeth as soon as they were safe. “Guys like him don’t like being hit, and when I saw what you did, I knew you’d need an escape.”
Elizabeth let out a sigh and then burst into laughter, leaning her back fully against the building wall. A couple of seconds passed before the laughter faded completely. Only then did she turn to look at the girl beside her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just… thank you,” she said genuinely. “I’m sure things would have ended much worse if you hadn’t shown up.”
“Don’t thank me,” the girl smiled.
“My name is Elizabeth Adler,” she said, extending her hand toward her. “What’s your name?”
The girl looked unsure about taking her hand. She knew not many people allowed that, and the fact that the redhead offered it so naturally threw her off a little. Elizabeth nodded, signaling for her to take it. The girl still didn’t seem very enthusiastic, but she shook her hand quickly.
“Hattie.”
“Nice to meet you, Hattie,” Elizabeth replied with a warm smile. “Really, I don’t know what I would have done without you. I was about to lose my temper completely.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let him do anything to you.”
“Thank you again. You saved me from a big one.”
“Will you be okay tomorrow at school?” the black-haired girl asked curiously.
“Yeah, I can take care of myself.”
“I saw it back there,” she nodded with a little laugh. “You hit hard, girl.”
Elizabeth smiled sideways and nodded, though a bit embarrassed by the unconventional compliment.
“When someone deserves it, I don’t hold back,” she said with a shrug. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind and she grew pensive. “Do you think he’ll try something after this?”
“Well, I don’t know him very well,” Hattie shrugged, making a face. “But what I do know is that guys don’t like it when a woman openly rejects them, so you’d better watch your back.”
The redhead made a small pout. She didn’t like the idea of living in fear, of having to look over her shoulder just because she had rejected a boy. She didn’t understand how the word “no” could be so insufficient to stop someone’s advances.
“Sure,” she whispered, shaking her head before letting out a sigh. “I guess that’s the best thing to do.”
“If you need company when you leave school, I can walk with you,” Hattie offered, a hint of shyness in her voice, as if what she was offering was almost unthinkable—and in a way, it was for most people. “The fruit stand closes around that time anyway…”
“I wouldn’t want to bother you. Besides, most of the time my friends wait for me after school. They just couldn’t come today,” she murmured, then thought about it for a second. “But I think it would be good to have someone on my side, just in case.”
“If you need it, you know where to find me,” Hattie answered with a smile.
“I know I must sound like a parrot, but thank you so much for helping me,” Elizabeth said sincerely. “It’s not easy to find people willing to help without expecting anything in return, and I really appreciate that.”
“Seriously, you don’t have to thank me so much,” Hattie replied with a slight shrug. “Sometimes it’s just the right thing to do.”
The redhead nodded and gave her a bright smile.
“I’d better get going before they start worrying at home,” she said finally, straightening up.
“Yeah, I should head back too before my father starts asking questions.”
They began walking together along the sidewalk, unhurried, enjoying the brief company. When they reached the corner, they stopped for a second.
“See you later,” Elizabeth said, waving goodbye.
Hattie nodded softly and smiled at her before starting to walk in the opposite direction.
As she walked home, Elizabeth couldn’t help feeling a little excited. Ever since she was very young, she had always found it difficult to connect with girls her own age. She would try to approach them and talk, but they never seemed to share many of her ideals, and that made them label Elizabeth as strange. It didn’t really bother her, but sometimes she wished she could have that kind of sisterhood she saw among the other girls at school—the kind that always felt so far away from her.
It wasn’t that she thought her friendship with Steve and Bucky was any less valuable. In fact, their friendship was one of the relationships she cherished most in life. But she wondered if her way of seeing the world would be more acceptable in her parents’ eyes if she were influenced by girls her own age instead of by two boys who seemed far too liberal for her parents’ taste.
Maybe, just maybe, meeting Hattie meant she could finally experience something different. She smiled to herself at the thought as she approached the door of her house. She didn’t know if it would turn into a real friendship, but at least it was a good start.
May 18, 1936
“So, she’s your friend from school?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes in exasperation and shook her head before taking a sip of her ice water.
“No, she doesn’t go to school,” she said, feeling a strange discomfort at having to say it. “They didn’t let her in. The point is I met her outside of school. She’s the daughter of the man who runs the fruit stand a couple of blocks away. I’m sure you’ve seen her before.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“And she’s great. She knows so many things I didn’t,” Elizabeth exclaimed, smiling. “She’s taught me a bunch of different knots and how to braid my hair in new ways. In return, I’m teaching her to read and write. She’s really good at math too!”
The brunet looked at her with a tender smile. He knew Elizabeth hadn’t had much luck making girlfriends, and the fact that she had finally found one made him genuinely happy.
“That sounds amazing, Lizzie. I’m glad you get along so well with her.”
“Yeah… Although the teacher scolded me today,” she said, the smile on her face fading slowly as she remembered. “She says it’s not good for me to talk to her so much.”
“What?” Bucky frowned, then understood. “Oh… because of her skin color?” Elizabeth nodded and Bucky shook his head. “Don’t pay attention to that. Most people who think it’s okay to exclude others usually don’t have very clear ideas in their heads.”
“I guess. It’s just that I still don’t understand why they want them to do everything separately or why they look at them that way.”
“As long as you want to be her friend and you know what kind of person she is, you shouldn’t let anyone tell you whether you can talk to her or not.”
The redhead nodded, even though the whole situation still felt completely senseless to her. But she decided to drop the subject and agree with what Bucky had said. It was the best she could do right then.
That day, Barnes had invited her to lunch after school. Sometimes he did that when he got a good paycheck, which usually happened every two months. Although Elizabeth hadn’t told anyone, those lunches had become one of her favorite things, and she always got excited when Bucky gave her advance notice.
“And what about you? How was work?” Elizabeth asked before taking a bite of her sandwich.
Bucky let out a sigh and shrugged, downplaying it.
“Definitely more boring than your day,” he said. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Actually, the most exciting part of my day is this.”
Elizabeth let out a soft giggle and shook her head.
“Well, if the most exciting part of your day is sitting down to eat a sandwich with me, then your day really must have been the most boring in the world.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Adler. You’re my best friend. Of course eating a sandwich with you is always one of my favorite activities.”
That simple comment was enough to make Elizabeth’s cheeks flush, which only made Bucky’s smile widen. Over the past few months, the brunet had realized he enjoyed Elizabeth’s company more than he used to. There was something about her that made him feel more at ease with himself, and he didn’t understand why.
Suddenly he noticed so many more things about her: the way she wrinkled her nose when she laughed, how she now preferred clothes in green and pink because they made her eyes stand out, and how every time she smiled at him it made his heart skip a beat
He wanted to say something about it, but he didn’t dare, because even though he had created these little outings for the three of them, he still noticed that the redhead always seemed happier when she was out with Steve. Always hanging on his arm, always joking or laughing with him even when all three of them were together.
“You have a funny way of saying things,” the redhead said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “Though I still think you’d rather be on a date with one of the girls who are always chasing after you.”
She realized what she had said the moment the words left her lips. She scolded herself mentally because she didn’t want to sound controlling, especially when there was nothing between her and Bucky—at least nothing beyond friendship.
She felt relieved when she heard him laugh and knew her comment hadn’t bothered him. In fact, it had passed as just another remark… or at least that’s what she believed for a couple of seconds, until Bucky spoke again.
“If I had to choose, I’d rather eat a sandwich with you than go on a date with any woman in the world, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth had to look down for a second because she was sure her face had turned violently red. However, the smile that spread across her lips was impossible to hide, and although she didn’t see it, Bucky smiled too.
──SET THE WORLD ON FIRE
Chapter 1. A world that used to be smaller.
chapter warnings: Mild Graphic Violence (teen fight), Implied Physical Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family Dynamics.
word count: 9.1k
Series Masterlist | Next Chapter
May 18, 1934.
Inheriting something during the Great Depression was, in some cases, nothing short of incredible. That the inheritance happened to be an apartment in Brooklyn was a blessing. That the apartment carried no debts and that the deceased had left every affair in perfect order so the heirs could take immediate possession of the property… that was a miracle.
That miracle could have happened to anyone, but it happened to the Adler family: Gladys and Frank, a couple who were far from happily married, and their fierce, unstoppable teenage daughter, Elizabeth Grace.
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.
Maybe she was more obvious than she thought. She just hoped he hadn’t noticed yet.
✶Synopsis In the back alleys of Brooklyn, Elizabeth Adler found in Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers not only a pair of new friends, but a refuge from the cruelties brought by the Great Depression and a broken family.
What began as teenage mischief would transform into a series of events amid the war that would change their lives in unimaginable ways.
✶Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!OC
✶Warnings long fic, period-typical racism, period-typical sexism, angst with eventual happy ending, slow build, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, canon compliant.
⋆ Each chapter will have its own specific content warnings at the beginning so you can decide whether to read or skip accordingly.
author's note: Thank you so much for giving this story a chance. I’m really excited (and a little nervous) to finally share this with you English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar slips or awkward phrasing — I’m doing my best! I’ve also done a ton of research for the 1930s setting, but I’m not a historian, so if anything feels off, please feel free to let me know. Gentle corrections are always welcome. I’ve poured my heart into Elizabeth and Bucky’s journey, and I really hope you fall in love with them as much as I have. If you enjoy the story, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Comments and feedback mean the world to me and keep me motivated to keep writing
Chapters:
1. A world that used to be smaller.
2. Little batles of our youth.
I don't care what anyone says, I WILL NEVER agree with the decision to have Steven "With You 'Til The End Of The Line" Rogers ABANDON his best friend to go with Peggy. Fuck Marvel for that, respectfully.
