I strolled down the streets of New York, the monochromatic skyline looming above with an ominous aura that there might be an airstrike at anytime, quaking a fear so deep within each person that you could practically feel it flaking off each individual. Cloaking them in a tremoring, sorrow stricken visage as that of a mourner, but I suppose, they were mourners in their own right. Mourning over the war, and the detriment it had caused. 

My heels clicked against the sidewalk, and I fixed the sleeves of my red blouse, my pencil skirt hugged at my knees. 

Halting in my tracks I pulled out my lipstick, and reapplied it, my reflection in a shops window, my only mirror, and my eyes glanced over at the posters that were tacked to the wooden pane, each one broadcasting something related to the war. The war single-handedly the only topic worth mentioning as of late. 

Everywhere you went, everything you heard, all of it was associated with the war. The depression of it all setting off a kindred spirit within everyone, even strangers. 

"Serve our fighting men abroad. Conserve these services at home. Electricity: Turn off lights, and home appliances when not needed. Communications: Don't make unnecessary long distance phone calls. Water: Repair leaky faucets, don't let water run needlessly. Transportation: War traffic comes first, travel only when you must. Saving these services frees fuel, manpower, material, and equipment for war." One poster declared, and I paid attention to another. 

"Stamp out Black Markets with your ration stamps. Pay no more than legal prices." The flier warned since rationing, and price controls were accessorized by the extensive Black Market activity involving illegal dealings in sugar, meat, automobile parts, penicillin, and other regulated goods.

In May sugar was rationed even more, and it regulated just how much everyone could obtain. "Sugar Buying Cards" were instilled, and the makeshift registration places were usually outside of local schools. Each families consumption of sugar being quantified by how many were in every home collectively. 

There was rationing, and budgeting for almost everything now in order to assist the soldiers fighting overseas. Such as food, clothes, shoes, coffee, gasoline, tires, metal, and fuel oil. 

I continued to walk down the road, the dense feeling of distress plaguing every adult, yet children still played. Running rampant throughout the streets, playing games. Their portable electric phonographs singing nursery rhymes, the faint lullaby the only minor childish light that adults could no longer partake in. 

I headed towards just one of the many enlistment offices that had sprouted up throughout the city like weeds in a garden, and went on inside. 

Various men in different physical states ranging from buff, and tall to scrawny, and little were sitting around impatiently for their tests to come back. Informing them if they were eligible, or not for war. Newspapers in their hands, every chair in the waiting room occupied. 

"Hello, Mrs. Barnes!" My friend, Rose, beamed. Rushing up to me with gusto. Her nurses skirt flowing wildly, and her freckles moving on her cheeks as she smiled at me. 

"Afternoon, I have the hospital file on your brother. I tended to him yesterday." 

"How's he doing?" She inquired, an anxious flurry welling up inside of her. 

"He lost an eye due to scattering shrapnel, but other then that he's doing as well as he can. Flirting with the other nurses, making jokes, and asking about you." I explained, her attention drawn more towards my words then to the file in her hands. 

"I wish I could go over to see him now, but I have to handle this lot. There was this really poor, sickly fellow in here a few minutes ago who practically got down on his hands, and knees begging for me to allow him to enter the Military. Odd bloke, if it were me I'd be relieved to know that I didn't have to go out, and fight." 

I cocked my eyebrow, that description ringing a bell. 

"Was this mans name Steven by any chance?" 

"Yes, actually," Rose said, snapping her fingers, and pointing at me. "How did you know that?" 

"He's a friend of mine. But, anyway. I have to be on my way." I said, and she waved goodbye to me. 

"Thank you for helping my brother! When you see him again tell him I'll be there soon!" 

I stepped out back into the street, the sudden bang of metal colliding against metal alerting me. 

I quickly traipsed behind the brick building, into the long back alleyway to see what the ruckus was about. The ruckus inevitably being Steve having a quarrel with some other man much bigger than him.

"Listen here you little punk! Don't try, and make me feel bad for myself just because I'm not happy about being enlisted into the damn Military! Some people, unlike yourself, don't have a death wish, and don't want to lay their life on the line for their country." The man said, socking Steve again, causing him to hurdle backwards right back into the metal garbage cans. 

"It's an honor to serve, and your ungratefulness is rude to those of us who can't enter." Steve argued, wiping the side of his mouth, and standing back up. 

"Just stay down, jerk. Know when you're outmatched." The man warned, but Steve just shook his head. 

"I can do this all day." 

I had to interject then, not wanting to see my bestfriend become a scrambled up mess of bones, and bruises by the attacker. 

"Break it up you two." I waltzed between them, and placed my hand on Steve's chest, stopping him from lunging at the man again. 

"Well, aren't you a looker. What's your name beautiful?" The man flirted. 

"Rebecca Barnes. Mrs. Rebecca Barnes." I introduced myself, extending my hand as a polite greeting. 

He shook my hand, and abruptly I tightened my grip, twisting his arm behind his back, and easily flipping him over onto the gritty floor of the alley. 

"What the hell!?" He spat out, standing back up, now with a limp, and injured shoulder. "Now you've done it, sweetie. I really don't want to have to mess up that pretty face of yours." 

I merely sighed, the same exasperated sigh that a mother does to her troublesome child. 

"Why don't you quit while you're ahead. Otherwise you'll be getting a pointy heel where you really don't want one." 

The mans cockiness shriveled up then, and he backed away, shooting a wad of his spit onto the ground. 

"Fine, I don't want to waste my time with you anyway." 

He left then, and I bent down slightly, examining over my blonde, ever valiant friend. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," He answered, his body hunched over a bit in obvious pain, one of his arms wrapped around his stomach. "I wish... I could protect you, and not the other way around." 

I felt bad for diminishing the hero like ego of his, one that all men have because despite Steve's less than desired physique he still harbored a desire to be a knight in shining armor type of fellow. 

"Well, I'm like a big sister to you, so It's okay if I'm the one protecting you." I reassured him, trying to make light of the situation. 

"Rebecca!" I suddenly heard someone yell, recognizing the distinct voice automatically. Bucky came running down the narrow alleyway aisle, rushing up to me immediately, his hands clasped around my shoulders. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, his brows furrowed underneath the shade of his Military cap. His eyes scanning me over, searching for any scratches, or cuts. 

"I'm fine, James. Really." 

He kissed my forehead, and held my hand before looking over at his disheveled blonde haired friend. 

"Are you fine, buddy?" 

"Yeah, never better," Steve commented, dusting off his jacket. "I'm sorry for endangering you though, Becky. I didn't know you'd be here." 

"You didn't endanger me, Steve," I replied. "I can handle taking on a few tussles. James just overreacts." 

"I'd like my wife to not get hurt, now is that too much to ask?" Bucky argued, a smile laced within his voice though. 

Steve walked over closer to us, and took in his childhood friends attire, his disappointment in himself showing. 

"You get your orders, Sergeant?" 

"The 107th. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow." Bucky answered, noticing Steve's despondency as well. 

"But, hey. We've got to celebrate my finale night!" He said, handing Steve today's newspaper. The highly anticipated Howard Stark Expo the headline. "Let's go, buddy." 

"Sure, Bucky."