"War continues to ravage Europe. But, help is on the way. Every able-bodied young man is lining up to serve his country. Even little Timmy is doing his part, collecting scrap metal. Nice work, Timmy! Meanwhile, overseas, our brave boys are showing the Axis Powers that the price of freedom is never too high. Together with the Allied Forces, we'll face any threat, no matter the size."  

I sat in the crowded theater with Steve, and in the pale blue effulgence his eyes bore into the screen with the longing intensity of a child outside of a candy shop. The unrequited love blazing in his sky shaded gaze, and the rejection smoldering across his countenance.

I understood of course. He wanted to be there, to be apart of something greater, something better than his ailing frail physique would allow.

I held his hand, the lace of my gloves molding with the skin on his fingers. Amidst the congested, humid theater that smelt of stale film reels I focused solely on him, this man who desired so much more than the body of a boys cage he was stuck within.

We went on to watch the cartoon, one that was rejoiced with laughter, and smiles by the rest of the audience, but we didn't so much as snicker.

Once the show was done, the last strip of film clicking along the shutter, the shallow opacity was overcast by the orange hue of the lights flickering back on.

In shuffling masses the herds poured out of the auditorium until only Steve, and I remained. I slid on my knee length twill coat, and propped my navy cloche hat on top of my soft curls.

We left the theater, and wandered around the bustling streets of New York, a city drained of it's liveliness since the war began. The local noise, and zest were still intact; automobiles still zoomed down the roads honking away, bystanders still chatted contently, and little paperboys still paraded throughout town, offering up he latest issue of the Times. But, it was different. The air was thick with the constant worry of what might happen. Would we be bombed next? And, the nagging concern bit at many.

We passed by a flock of youthful, adept lads who waved their enlistment forms proudly in the air like they were golden tickets.

"Man, I can't believe I was eligible!"

"I know! I'm going over their to kick some Nazi ass!"

"I want to do well by my Grandfather. He was a Lieutenant in World War I."

They hopped past us, light on their feet while patting each other on the backs, and I glanced down at Steve. A look of hurt, neglect, and affliction strung across his sharp facial features.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I know you want to join, and fight."

"It's not just that," The feathery blonde argued, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tan slacks. "I'm not doing my part. I feel guilty while men are dying, and suffering, I'm doing nothing. It just eats me away, and Bucky, he could do it. He got in. I'm envious of him."

"Well, I'm not," I said, staring down at my wedding ring, the gold glinting in the grey light. "He's my husband, and a soldier. I have to worry about him all the time. I'd much rather have him not qualified to go like you. We weren't even married long before the war started, and this is not how I expected my married life to go."

"How did you expect it to go?" Steve asked, the soles of his shoes kicking up the muddy grime from the sidewalk.

"Peaceful, I suppose," I answered, fiddling with the gold band again. "I didn't really think about much other than that. I didn't think about the children we'd have, or about the home outside of the city that we'd buy together. I thought about what anyone would think. That I'd just be settling down. Not having the strain of war, a soldier for a husband, and not being a nurse tending to the injured at a local hospital."

"Do you regret it? Marrying Bucky." Steve questioned, eyeing me with selective skepticism, testing to make sure that his bestfriend since childhood had picked well.

My crimson painted lips curved upward, and I wrapped my arm around his slim shoulders, bumping our foreheads together.

"I'll never regret choosing James. He is the best thing to have ever happened to me. Through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer or poorer, and all that jazz I will stay by his side."

He smiled then, his eyes twinkling like a candle in the night, and we continued on our way. Eventually making it to the entrance of Bucky's and my shared apartment. The evenings chill sweeping in.

"Go home, and get some sleep, Steve. Try to just forget everything, alright?"

"You know, sometimes I do wish I could forget. Forget about all that troubles me." He said, his small posture slumped, and broken.

"It's just because you have a conscious, Steve. You care too much about so much. A trait of yours I happen to love, but I'm sorry to see it bring you distress." I told him, leaning down to give him a kiss on the cheek, leaving a rosy mark.

"Thanks, Becky."

"You're the only one who can call me by that nickname. Not even James is allowed to." I retorted, receiving a grin from him.

"Goodnight, Becky."

"Night, Steve." 

I went on inside, greeted by a pitch black home. Bucky wasn't home yet, so I switched on a few lights, illuminating up the darkness with a warm glow.

Slipping out of my coat, relieving my feet from my heels, and sweeping my curls up into a clip I headed into the powder room.

Drawing myself a bath I shed off the rest of my clothes, and dove right in. The steaming water soothed my tensed muscles, giving my worn out bones a massage. Bubbles circled around my body, filling the air with the scent of rose petals, and I leaned my head against the edge of the tub. The claw footed legs of the bathtub reminded me of the silver talons of a hawk, majestic yet terrifying at the same time.

Droplets of water dripped down my neck to my chest before disappearing back into the bubbly surface, and it felt like hot wax against my skin.

I closed my eyes, and sighed blissfully listening to music playing softly from the record player. But, then I heard the distinct "click" of a key entering through the brass doorknob on the front door.

A tall, built brunette with lively slate blue eyes came walking down the hallway into the powder room without so much as a gentlemanly knock first.

Already I was rolling my eyes, but the sight of him clad in his olive shaded uniform shut me up. "Damn, he was an attractive Sergeant"  I  thought, peering over at him, the black visor of his cap creating a shadow across his mischievous gaze.

"Hello, handsome."

"Hello, gorgeous." He greeted, leaning down to capture my lips with his own for a moment before pulling away. 

"You know, we've been married for six years, and this is honestly the best you've ever looked." 

"Is that a compliment, or not?" Bucky joked, sliding over an upholstered stool closer towards the bathtub, and taking a seat. 

"I think it's a compliment, but have you told Steve about your newly appointed position yet?" I asked, the fizzing bubbles around me reflecting the incandescent creamy glow of the lights within them. 

"No, not yet. I'm shipping out soon though." He announced, a hint of guilt wrapped tightly around his voice, and I couldn't tell if his remorse was projected towards me, or Steve. Was it the guilt of a husband, or a friend? I couldn't tell, knowing Bucky, probably both. 

"Steve will be crushed to hear the news. I went to the cinema with him today, and you should of seen his face when the war commercials were being played. It's unfair. Perfectly healthy men are being recruited yet most of them are unhappy about it, and then there's this feeble man who wants to contribute so much, and would gladly go out on the frontlines without a single complaint, but he's not allowed to join." 

"Well, now who said life was fair, doll?" Bucky replied, taking off his olive cap, and loosening his faded green necktie. 

"I think I'm going to stick to being a nurse in New York to be here for Steve while you're gone." I spoke, regretfully taking my leave from the bathtub which had begun to defuse out into a lukewarm temperature. 

A shiver ran down my entire exposed figure, and I draped my silk robe around my damp shoulders, pulling my arms into the flowing sleeves. 

"That, and I don't think you'd enjoy me being out there where the action is." I added. 

He smirked. 

"I wouldn't mind, but only if I were there to protect you. It's til death do us part, doll, meaning we either live together, or die together." 

"I'd prefer to live together." I countered, making Bucky laugh, and stand up to pepper kisses down my neck. 

"Me too."