Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 2

March 30, 1929 – Brooklyn, New York

It was hard lying to Mrs. Dorsett. Mr. Barnes had accepted her offer without fanfare and every morning Darcy found herself standing on the corner and waving papers in the air. Normally on the night of Mrs. Dorsett's knitting club, she stayed late at the market to help Bucky price things and restock the shelves. The same deal applied to Bucky when it came to the papers – five dollars lined his pocket every day that she was able to work as long as he brought the papers to the corner store.

Mr. Barnes had tried to pay her for the nights she spent at the market, but each time she waved him off, insisting that he was doing her a favor instead of the other way around.

It was way past closing time and she should've been heading home, but a knock on the door caught her attention.

"Ya wanna get that? Pro'ly someone forgot somethin' earlier."

She nodded, "Yeah, I got it, Buck."

Darcy wasn't sure when she'd shortened his name, but it became more of a habit. She tended to call him James when she was mad at him, though, and he knew then that he was in trouble.

Hauling herself up from her spot in front of the canned beans, she walked stiff-legged to the door and hauled it open. A skinny blond kid stood in front of her with a confused face that she was sure mirrored her own.

"Can I help you?" Darcy asked, a bit of a bite to her voice.

"I-I saw the light – " he started before he began coughing violently.

Alarm welled up in her and she was beside him in a second, beating against his back as he struggled to breath.

"Steve?" Bucky's head popped out of the market and his eyes were big. "What're ya doin' here?"

When the blond, Steve, regained full use of his lungs, he stuttered out, "Saw the light on in th' store. Wanted to come by and see if ya needed anythin'."

Darcy ushered Steve into the store, mindful of how frail he was. Granted, she was still on the less than healthy side, but this kid looked like he was on death's door.

"Steve, this is my…friend, Darcy," Bucky said awkwardly. "Darce, this is Steve. He lives a few blocks over from me."

She smiled at him. "Nice to meet ya, Stevie."

"Likewise…doll."

She turned an unflattering shade of pink and looked down, pulling her sleeves down her arms. He'd said her words. Steve had said her words. Should she ask him if he had words? She'd just met him…that was probably considered bad etiquette.

"Well, I should probably get home," she finally said, wanting the tension in the room to go away. "I'll see ya on Monday, Bucky."

"See ya Monday, Darce."

"You okay, punk?" Bucky asked, watching Steve closely.

Steve nodded, his chest feeling heavy in a way he wasn't used to. She – Darcy – was something else and he'd only spent about ten minutes with her. And she'd said his words. The words that were curled around his left wrist.

"Steve. Hey, ya sure you're okay in there?"

"Darcy…she's – "

"Something, ain't she? She helps out 'round the store. Remember Conlon? She's a friend of his from the city."

The blond shook his head as if he were trying to clear her from his mind. It wasn't every day that you met a girl that said your words.

"Ya like her, don't ya? That why ya called her doll?"

Deciding to bite the proverbial bullet, he rasped out, "She said my words, Bucky."

"Ya got words?"

Steve unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and pushed it up.

Can I help you?

Bucky whistled low. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Guess I always thought I'd be havin' an asthma attack or somethin' when I heard 'em. Didn't know I'd be outta breath from huffin' it over here as soon as my ma left." Steve grinned stupidly, looking at the words in reverence. He sobered for a second before he asked, "Do ya have any?"

Bucky snorted and pushed up his own sleeve on his right arm, the writing was slightly darker than his skin color.

What's the matter with you?

"Figure she's a handful. I heard Darcy say it when I first met her, but she didn't seem like what I had said was anythin' special so I let it go. 'Sides, maybe she's all yours, punk."

"Jerk."

April 13, 1929 – Brooklyn, New York – Dorsett Residence

"You've been lying to me, Darcy!"

"Well, I couldn't tell you the truth!" She yelled back. Her cheeks were becoming pink and she was trying not to scream.

Truthfully, Darcy had been waiting for the other shoe to drop and today happened to be the day. The school had sent a letter home and, instead of intercepting it as she'd hoped to, Mrs. Dorsett had gotten to it first.

Mrs. Dorsett sighed and threw the letter down on the table between them. "You've been with us for over four months now, Darcy, and we're still at square one. You're not opening up or letting us in and it's hard to guess what you want – "

"I want the freedom that I had! I've never had a family!" She exploded, resentment taking the driver's seat of her rage. "Mrs. Edgewater was the closest I had to a parent and she let me do what I wanted to do. I sold papers and she tutored me and I did chores. I didn't need to sit and be seen but not heard. I didn't ask to be adopted!"

As soon as the words were out, she wished she could take them back. Mrs. Dorsett's face had become a sea of sadness and she wanted to fix it.

"Mrs. Dorsett, I didn't mean – "

She held up her hand, shaking as she took a deep breath. "I'm going to meet at the Jones' house for our knitting group. I expect you to behave while I'm gone."

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Darcy kicked the empty box rhythmically. As soon as Mrs. Dorsett had left, she practically ran to the market. She wasn't sure how Bucky was supposed to make it better, but she knew that he could.

"You finish stockin' those?" Bucky asked, motioning to the box the canned beans had been occupying.

"Yup," she said, popping the p.

He nodded. "There's a bunch of apples in the back that you can put out if ya want."

She disappeared into the back and shuffled some boxes around as her mind wandered.

The thought of going back to school was appalling, but going back to the orphanage seemed even worse. Since moving in with the Dorsetts, Darcy hadn't had to worry about anything like shoes or clothes or food. She had her own bed in her own room and she was able to decorate it any way that she wanted. It was liberating, but she still wanted to do things for herself. Selling papers was something that she did all by herself. She'd saved up enough money to go to school and she knew as soon as she was able to that she was going to go to school for ballet. She'd never really stopped practicing; she'd just run out of new material. She wasn't able to go to the dance studio and watch the other girls anymore since she lived away from the city.

"You okay, Darce?" Bucky asked when she walked back into the front of the store, arms laden with apples.

"Yeah, just thinkin'," she said. "Mrs. Dorsett found out I've been skippin' school and she's mad. I really need a tutor or somethin'."

"My ma works as a tutor before her shifts at the hospital," Steve's voice said, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin. "I'm sure she could tutor ya. I can ask."

Laying down the apples on the counter, she sighed. "How much does she charge?"

The blond looked flustered and he stumbled over his words in an attempt to get them out.

"I'm sure Mrs. Rogers can talk to ya 'bout that," Bucky said, saving his friend from making a fool of himself. "I can walk ya over to his place tomorrow."

"I'll meet ya here, Buck."

April 14, 1929 – Brooklyn, New York

"Are ya sure we're not going to wake her up? It's noon and she has to work tonight," Darcy fretted as the walked to Steve's house.

Bucky waved his hand in dismissal. "She was up this mornin' for church. Steve said she barely sleeps on the weekends so she can spend some time with the punk, anyway."

She grinned to herself. She liked that Steve had a friend like Bucky. Steve was too…weak to take care of himself sometimes and Bucky was practically attached to his hip when he wasn't at the store. Apparently, they'd met when Steve was running his mouth to some of the older kids and Bucky had beat the living shit out of them after they'd already done a number on the blond. When she found out, she'd given them both a tongue-lashing. And then congratulated them – or rather Bucky – for winning.

When they arrived at a rundown apartment building, worry blossomed in her chest.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said, nudging her up the stairs to the door. "Steve's dad died in the war and Mrs. Rogers has been scraping by with working nights."

Mentally, she started going through what she should offer to pay Steve's mom. If she managed almost ten dollars a day with papers and gave half to Bucky, then she could easily give half of her share to Mrs. Rogers. That would end up being almost fifty dollars a month for them and she was sure that would help out.

"Don't be such a girl," Bucky teased her as he knocked on the door.

"Ma, are ya sure ya even have time to tutor anyone?"

Mrs. Rogers smiled tiredly at her son. "This girl is your soul mate you think, right?"

"She said my words – "

"And you like her, yes?"

"Ma, she's so pretty – "

"Then, yes, I have time. I made time for the neighbor's daughter, I can make time for the girl that might be the one you end up marrying."

Steve groaned, smacking his head against the rickety kitchen table. "They were payin' you like five bucks a week, Ma. I don't know what she can afford – "

"Steven Grant Rogers, cut that out." Mrs. Rogers knew her son could get worked up over little things and it didn't do any good. "If this girl's important to you, then she's important to me, too. Now, go get the door. Someone knocked a second ago."

April 26, 1929 – Brooklyn, New York

It had taken some time for Mrs. Dorsett to calm down, but when she finally did, Darcy laid out her plan. She was going to sell papers in the morning and work at the market in the afternoons and go to Steve's afterwards for a few hours so Mrs. Rogers could tutor her. Darcy also told her adoptive mother about her aspirations to become a ballerina (Why haven't you told me before now? had been the indignant reply) and that she had been looking at a school in Russia for a few years now.

Mrs. Dorsett, to Darcy's surprise, had taken everything in stride, happy that she'd thought everything through. She had a job and a plan and she didn't want to mess it up.

Spot was scheduled to come home on a temporary leave since he completed his training and she was so excited. She'd sold all the papers she could get her hands on and paid Bucky before heading to Steve's house.

"Thanks for doin' this early, Mrs. Rogers," she said when the short blonde woman let her into the house. Darcy really liked the house because of how homey it was. She could see why Steve was such a happy kid, having a mom like his. It just pained her that he was so sick.

Mrs. Rogers had tried to explain about Steve's conditions – plural because obviously this kid didn't do anything half-assed – and it just made her head spin. Now, whenever she was around Steve, she watched him like a hawk to make sure he wasn't just going to drop dead. Steve joked that when he was born his body decided it hated him and Darcy didn't think that was one bit funny.

"Of course, Darcy. Your brother's coming home, isn't he?"

Her head bobbed and she felt a smile on her face. "He's been gone since December. I can't wait to see him." Mrs. Rogers got a sad look on her face and she remembered what Bucky had told her about Steve's dad. "Oh, I'm sorry. I know soldiers hafta be – "

"It's fine, Darcy. It's just been Steve and I for a while now." She paused and picked up the math book they'd been working on the day before. "Let's get started, shall we? Now, this theorem suggests…"

May 1, 1929 – Brooklyn, New York – Dorsett Residence

"Spot!" Darcy careened down the stairs in record time, leaping onto the bulk that was, quite possibly, her favorite person in the world. Arms wrapped around her and squeezed her so tightly that she thought she might burst.

"I missed ya so much, Darce! Look at how big you've gotten! And all those curls! What a gorgeous gal." He smiled as he pulled away from her, tugging a curl playfully as he set her down. "Ya been lookin' after yourself? Not gettin' into too much trouble, right?"

She nodded solemnly. "Sellin' papers and workin' at the market. And gettin' tutored, too! I had too much trouble in school."

"Sean? Oh, Sean! I'm so glad you're home!" Mrs. Dorsett rushed the man, barely letting him get a leg into the house. Not that Darcy had been any better.

She took a moment to realize he was dressed in uniform and it made her just a bit uncomfortable. Darcy liked to think of him as the scrappy kid that showed up at the orphanage in the middle of the night with red suspenders, not a man that knew how to kill another man with a gun.

"Only gonna be home for a few days. I got my deployment dates. I won't be back for awhile."

Her heart sunk and she lunged back into his arms, fighting tears as her lip quivered. "Don't go, Spot. I just got ya back."

"C'mon Darcy-baby. Let's go get somethin' to eat."

Darcy dipped her fries into the chocolate shake she and Spot were sharing and pushed the rest of her burger towards him, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to scarf it down.

"Tell me 'bout the guy you've been writin' 'bout."

"I knew writin' ya letters was a bad idea."

He snorted and took a gulp of Coke. "Name's Steve, right? One of James' friends?"

She shrugged, "I guess so. He's kinda my friend now, too. He's really nice, Spot. And he said my words, too."

"Darce, ya know sayin' the words might not be anythin'."

"I know. Sometimes, I wish ya were my soul mate. I think it'd be a lot easier."

Spot chuckled, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "I'm too old for ya, darlin'. Too old and too poor to keep up with a young thing like ya."

"You're twenty-four! Not nearly old – "

"And you're eleven, Darce. What's gonna happen when you're eighteen and ready to get married? I'll be in my thirties. It's definitely not gonna work, doll." He laughed again. "Maybe Steve will be the one for ya."

Darcy sobered up, her thoughts immediately going to how sick Steve was in general. Her lip caught between her teeth and she swirled the same fry around in the shake until it was soggy.

"Speak up, doll. What's goin' on in that head o'yours?"

Swallowing, she quietly said, "Steve's sick. A lot. I…I know ya said your words fade after your…after they die. But, what happens? Do ya ever think you're gonna find someone else?"

"I think I'll find someone without words, too," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe a girl that lost her soldier in the war. It happens damn near every day – "

"Language."

" – and if Steve does get sick, then at least ya met him, doll. Ya don't have to spend all your time wonderin' if he was as good as you made him up in your head."

She nodded. Steve was pretty great. Not that she knew much more about him other than the drawing his ma showed her and how he always tried to cheer her up if she had a rough day. He was the very definition of good while Bucky was the more likely of the two to rough something up. She couldn't imagine having one without the other and it made her question both of her soul marks. They said exactly the same thing; she'd figured it was just an accident and she'd been marked twice.

"Now, when am I gonna meet your new friend?"

"I have to drop by Steve's tonight to pay his ma for tutoring me. Wanna tag along?"

"Wouldn't miss it, doll."

"That's Steve?"

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's him."

Spot seemed to struggle for a moment. It wasn't like him to keep his opinions to himself but she could tell that he was trying not to offend her. "He seems nice," he finally said weakly.

"I know he's small. And that he looks fragile. But he can take a punch like no other and he's really sweet. His ma is the best and as long as Steve gets all the medicine he needs, then there's nothin' to worry about."

"Ya like him?"

"I'm still learning 'bout him. But Bucky likes him and he's a good judge of character. I trust him. Both of 'em."

Spot slung his arm around her shoulders and smiled. "And I trust ya. Just know I'll still kick his skinny ass if he hurts ya."

September 19, 1929 – Brooklyn, New York

They were inseparable. Had been for months and she knew it would turn into years. Darcy felt the same companionship with Steve and Bucky as she did with Spot, except sometimes she felt like it was a lot more. In the past months, she thought more and more about asking Steve what his words were, but she couldn't. What if they did match? She still wanted to go to school. Still wanted to go to Russia and study ballet. Perform on stage and would Steve let her do that? Would he be able to go with her?

It all was one big question mark. Why would she know her future, anyway? Mrs. Dorsett was right when she said she couldn't let her words rule her life. She didn't want to forget how to live. She was too young to do anything about them, anyway.

"All stocked, Darce?"

"You bet," she replied, putting the last can on the shelf and turning to smile at Bucky. "We meetin' Steve tonight? Or is he still sick?"

Bucky shrugged. "I think he's better. He was at school today. We can grab a shake and take it up to 'im if you want."

Nodding enthusiastically, she plucked a quarter from her coin purse and they made their way to the malt shop near Steve's house.

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~Grace