Author's Note: Welcome to my new story! I want to say right away that this story can stand alone with no confusion if you haven't read my Game of Trust series. But it does involve my main character from those. This started out as a simple one-shot – what if my character Aspen had met Steve in the 1940s? What would change, how would they meet, react to each other? I started it and then it was suddenly 100 pages. I'm very excited for this one though. It goes into some of the Howling Commandos' missions that we don't really get to see in the movie. It also adds a little different twist to the end.

If you have read my other Avengers stories, welcome and thank you for reading this one! If you are new to my writing, I really hope you enjoy and please feel free to check out my other stories. Even though the characters are the same, this story has a different feel to it.

I am completely finished writing and editing this story, so I will try to post daily. Please don't be shy about leaving a review! I'd love to hear from you! Thank you for reading!

-1-

December 5th, 1941 Manhattan, New York

Aspen Tolvar stood by the tall windows at the side of the classroom watching the snow drift lazily down to dot the pavement outside. It was just the distraction she needed after the letter she had received that morning informing her that her parents had gone missing a week earlier. The science society they worked for hadn't given her the details just said that they hadn't been seen since the last week in November. They hadn't left their notice, hadn't told anyone where they were going, and so they were presumed missing. Condolences. They would be looking into it. Aspen had crumpled the letter. She wasn't close to her parents, and they hadn't spoken to her in over a year. Their work kept them busy and their daughter's lack of interest in science was a disappointment to them. They were probably off discovering a new element or studying something of interest in some foreign place. It wasn't the first time they'd up and left, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel some worry despite all this. They were her parents after all.

Aspen had chosen to be a photojournalist instead. Her keen observation skills and curiosity made her a natural at it. She also taught a photography class at the local school. It was a small class, but the fee allowed her to keep a one-room flat in lower Manhattan. She lived a quiet life and as far as she was concerned, that wasn't a bad thing.

Her photography class had ended, and she didn't hear the students begin to arrive for the following art class until a soft voice tentatively said, "Ma'am?" She turned around to find herself facing a blonde boy who stood an inch or so shorter than her. His pallid face was lit up by a set of dazzling blue eyes that reminded Aspen of the sky after a light rain. There was something both shy and curious in his gaze. She realized she was staring, and nervously tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I was just wondering if Mrs. Shefferd was going to be here today for her drawing class?"

Aspen forced a smile, pushing her thoughts to the side. "She should be here any minute."

"Are you in the class too?" another voice asked. Aspen looked over at the other boy who had entered the classroom with the blonde. He was taller and well-built with dark, slicked back hair and greyish blue eyes. His eyes danced with confidence as met her gaze and his lips rose in a lopsided smile. They both looked to be a few years older than her in their early twenties.

"No, I teach the photography class before this," she said.

"We should have signed up for that one," he said to his blonde friend, nudging his shoulder in a familiar way. He gave Aspen an appraising look. His friend's ears went pink, and he looked embarrassed at his friend's behavior. "Why don't you stick around? If we're doing figures, I found my model."

Aspen smiled sweetly. She'd played this game with boys before. As a journalist, she'd learned how to take care of herself in a city run by men. "I hear they bring some of the ladies from the nursing home across the street in for portraits. I'll bet they'd be lining up to pose for you." She pulled her jacket on and grabbed her camera bag, swinging it over her shoulder. "Have fun."

She heard the dark-haired boy give a low whistle as she left and the blonde berating him for talking to her like that. She smiled to herself and pulled her collar up as she stepped outside. The snowflakes were falling more thickly now and the cold nipped her cheeks and nose. She began her walk home. A newspaper boy stood on the corner selling papers. War! the headlines read. Will the Red, White, and Blue join the Allies in their fight against the Axis? With all the talk of war, winter seemed a little drearier this year. Tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, Aspen tried to find a tiny bit of warmth as she walked on into the snow, the word 'war!' ringing in her ears like an ever-tolling bell.

December 6th

It snowed throughout the next day making it difficult to get around. Aspen forced her way to her class despite this. Even if she only had one student, she was determined to be there. By the time she left, the snow was coming down in torrents, and she buttoned her coat up to her neck, looping her scarf around for good measure. "Oh! Sorry." She had nearly run into the blonde boy she'd seen the day before as she fumbled with her scarf.

"My fault," he said, ducking his head awkwardly. Of course it wasn't his fault, but she smiled and let him apologize. By the way he stared at his feet and flushed, she realized he wasn't adept at talking to girls.

"Art class?" Of course he was there for art class, now who wasn't adept at conversation?

He nodded anyway with a polite "Yes, ma'am." He finally looked up at her, bright blue eyes catching hers. That's when she noticed that his lower lip was cut and swollen. She was about to ask what had happened when his darker haired friend caught up. He smiled widely the second he saw her, and she braced herself for his words.

"Hey again! Funny how we keep running into each other," he said cheerfully, his eyes twinkling almost mischievously.

She forced a pleasant smile. "Fancy that."

"You know, we were severely lacking in models yesterday. You sure you don't want to join us?" He flashed a grin. "Maybe after class we could go dancing?"

"That's kind of you, but I don't dance," she said politely, cheeks warming at his attention. It wasn't that she'd never been asked out before. She just wasn't interested in the boys who flirted incessantly with her because she was just another pretty face. She was waiting for…well, someone who didn't try so hard for her attention. Someone who wanted to take the time to really get to know her. There were a lot of women in New York, and she knew this boy was only taking advantage of her being right here.

The dark-haired boy nodded, undeterred. "Alright. Maybe hot chocolate's more your style. I make a fantastic hot chocolate."

"Maybe some other time. I have to go." She glanced at the blonde boy. "Goodbye," she said, giving him a small smile. She brushed past his friend and headed toward the doors. "Huh," she heard the dark-haired boy say to his friend. "I think she likes you better."

Aspen allowed herself a smile before stepping onto the street and into the biting cold.

December 7th

It had stopped snowing by the next day, but night had left a thin coating of powder on the ground. Aspen could feel her ears freezing under her short red waves. The metal of her earrings bit the insides of her ears, and she was grateful to reach the warmth of the school building.

She could tell that everyone's mind was on the war because concentration was low. She was late getting out of the building again as she stayed to develop some photos in the small storage closet she used as a dark room. When she left her photos drying, the classroom had already filled up. She spotted the two boys she kept running into. The blonde was absent-mindedly doodling. She could tell he had skill by the intricate city scene he drew, the pencil grasped lightly in his right hand. The dark-haired boy winked at her, and she looked away.

Mrs. Shefferd was fumbling with the knobs on the radio that sat on the desk. "I keep it on just in case anything important is announced," she said. "You never know with all this talk about the war."

The radio cleared, and a man's excited voice came on over the frequency. "President Roosevelt has just announced America's participation in the war. I repeat, America is at war!" All talking ceased for a moment as the words on the radio sunk in, then suddenly everyone was talking. The blonde and his dark-haired friend remained silent. Aspen could see the determination in their eyes though and knew without a doubt they'd be visiting the enlistment offices soon.

"I reckon I'll sign up," one man said to the man next to him.

"Me too."

Aspen felt a stab of fear. Did these men really know what they were signing up for? They were still boys really, still so young. She could already see the people dying, already hear the sobs of their families as they were delivered the condolence letters. As a photojournalist, it was her job to separate herself from the emotional side of her stories, but it wasn't always possible. Now she found herself overwhelmed. She muttered a goodbye to Mrs. Shefferd and hurried from the room. As she went, the blonde boy looked up at her, his blue eyes meeting her green ones. He wasn't muscular, wasn't strong, but the bravery in his eyes surprised her. She threw him a nervous smile before shutting the door behind her.