20.

Brooklyn, New York City

May 25th, 1943

Bucky sits out on the fire escape, watching the sun set over the Brooklyn buildings. He's silent, twirling a leaf around in his hands that he found embedded in the metal grate. It's dead, falling apart in his hands, having probably been there for quite a while.

He's been feeling rather anxious lately, feeling like his number is up. All around him, people he knows are getting called up to go off to war. He has a feeling he'll be one of the next unlucky ones. He hates the suspense of it all. He'd thought waiting for basic was bad, despite the fact that it still meant he had time. Now, his next step is war. He dreams of it every night, but he doesn't think he's even imaginative enough to think up the reality of it. He doesn't think the trenches of his dreams are damp enough, loud enough, or terrifying enough. He doesn't think the homesickness is strong enough. He doesn't think the grieving men in his dreams cry quite hard enough.

Even when he thinks back to his dad's stories from the Great War, they had always seemed more like tales of heroism than of loss and despair. His dad blocked out the terror and the brutality and only ever spoke of the friendship, the adrenaline, of saving people. He doesn't think his dad would like the remember the times when he made a new friend, only to be covered in their blood and brains the next morning. He wouldn't want to remember that either.

Bucky almost forgets Steve is sitting next to him until Steve shifts. He jumps at the movement and Steve looks at him in confusion before realising Bucky was lost in his thoughts again. He does that a lot lately.

"What were you thinking about?" Steve asks absently, continuing with his sketch of the neighbour's cat perched on the rail of the fire escape directly across the road from them. It licks its paw lazily, balancing perfectly on the thin metal, its tail flicking around lightly in the wind. Wouldn't it be nice, Bucky thinks, to be a cat and not have to worry about when you'll be called up to fight in a war you never asked for. He thinks it would be real nice, and he's almost jealous.

"The war."

"You worried?" Steve asks.

"You could say that."

After a moment of deliberation, with the sound of the pencil being dragged across the paper, Steve speaks up. "Do Sergeants fight as much as Privates?" Steve wonders, his voice now free of the nasal sound it held while it was healing after it was broken. He's also been free of the thick white bandage for a few months now.

"Yeah, they lead the units, unless there is someone of higher rank tagging along," Bucky replies, his eyes now also focused on the jet-black feline. It makes eye contact with him, lazy green eyes sparkling in the light.

"So you'll have your own group of men, that's pretty swell. Did you have a choice about becoming Sergeant?"

"Kind of. I was chosen to join the specialised program when we were shooting targets. It was partly my choice, though they did push me into it. And I wasn't going to say no - being a Sergeant pays a hell of a lot more, so I'll have more to send back home," Bucky explains. He crumples the dried brown leaf in his hands into tiny little pieces and throws them off the fire escape, watching them float away on the wind. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a favour?" Bucky asks quietly.

"Sure, anything."

"It's a lot to ask of you, but I'm prepared to get on my knees and beg."

"What is it, Buck?" Steve asks patiently, setting down his sketchbook to give Bucky his full attention.

"I want to know that Isabel will always have someone to support her, financially and emotionally, no matter what. When she was with Danny I thought she'd always have that. Danny's family is rich, which helps, and I thought he loved her the right way. But I was wrong and he isn't in her life anymore, which is good. You are though. You love her the right way, you care about her. No matter how much money I send back to cover the rent, it isn't going to replace the fact that I'm not there. She's going to need someone to be by her side, through everything. I want that person to be you."

Steve's expression breaks, and he looks both upset and touched at the same time. "Bucky, you gotta stop thinking like that. If you keep thinking so negatively about your outcome, you might not come back," he warns.

"No, Steve. I'm going to war. There's a pretty good chance I will never see home again. I want to be able to go there with a clear conscience that my sister will always be safe and happy. Can you do that for me, Steve?" Bucky's eyes are pleading, almost glassy with tears he refuses to shed.

"This your way of stopping me from enlisting?" Steve asks accusingly, though his voice is also giving, accepting.

"Don't be like that. I don't want you gettin' hurt either."

Steve sighs. "You know I'll always look after her. Whether it be that I look after her like she's my friend, my family or something more, I'll always be there for her. Whether you asked me to or not."

"I knew you would," Bucky says in relief, finally letting himself smile. He pats Steve on the shoulder. "Just wanted to make sure."

Winifred comes over for coffee a few days later, on an afternoon when Steve is at an art class and Bucky's about to come home from work at the docks. The mother and daughter laugh with each other and cut some sandwiches, drinking their coffee and making light talk about the goings-on of the neighbourhood. Winifred fills Isabel in on Robbie and Becca's school grades, and presents her with a drawing Becca did in art class of the Barnes' siblings. Her drawings are getting better as she gets older; she attends more art classes now and she's even taken a few pages from Steve's book, asking him questions about drawing whenever she sees him, which he's all too happy to answer. Isabel promptly tacks up the drawing on the front of one of the kitchen cupboards so she can look at it whenever she wants.

Once finished their afternoon tea, Isabel picks up their coffee cups and clears the dirty plates, going to the sink, which already has the boy's breakfast plates sitting in it, to begin washing up. Winifred comes over the help her, picking up the tea towel to dry the soaked dinnerware. They clean in comfortable silence for a while, working through the pile of dishes, only the sound of splashing dishwater and the quiet squeaking of the towel against wet porcelain filling the room.

"There was something I wanted to discuss with you," Winifred eventually says, her voice wary.

"You mean you didn't just come over to catch up?" Isabel laughs. "You always have a reason for doing things, Mama."

"Let's go to your room," Winifred suggests, putting away the final plate and wiping over the counter top, leaving the wet towel on the bench.

Winifred walks to Isabel's room and Isabel follows confused, sitting on her bed. Winifred closes the door behind them, sitting beside her daughter.

"I didn't want to say anything to you, but I've been thinking about it a very long time, Isabel. You are an adult and I understand why you've done it, but I'm worried it is going to affect your life."

"What have I done?' Isabel asks quietly, her head cocking in confusion, nodding for Winifred to continue. She can't think of anything she's done that could ruin her life.

"I'm not so sure I agree with the Rogers boy living with you," Winifred notes bluntly, looking worried.

"Since when is he the Rogers boy and not Steve?" Isabel asks quietly.

She should have seen this coming. She'd explained to her parents when Steve moved in why it was happening, that it was purely for support and financial security, and that there was nothing between her and Steve and they were not, in fact, living together out of wedlock. Winifred had seemed worried but she'd accepted the situation, resigned to the fact that when she went to Isabel and Bucky's apartment, Steve would be there, too. She loves Steve as a son just as she loves Bucky, and she doesn't want to see Steve suffer, especially after the loss of the beautiful woman his mother was. But there is a line, and Winifred is worried it has been crossed.

"It isn't appropriate," Winifred says.

"You said that it was okay when we proposed it to you. If you didn't think it was appropriate, you should have said something then and we would have worked something else out. It's too late now. Besides, he has his own little room in the corner. I rarely see him except at meal times. It's hardly any different from before he moved here in that regard, except his stuff is here," Isabel points out.

"I understand that, and I know that you explained it to us. But when you and Bucky initially moved out, your father and I agreed with you that you were moving out together, which we were okay with. We knew Bucky would protect you. You didn't specify it was going to be Bucky and Steve."

"Well it was just Bucky to begin with."

"You're saying that neither of you had any plans to include Steve in this living arrangement from the beginning?"

Isabel swallows, because that had been their exact plan. "I think you're forgetting that Steve's mother passed away. He needed support, emotionally and financially, and this is one way we gave that to him. He's family. Bucky and I moved out knowing it was a possibility Steve could join us. It's perfectly harmless, Mama," Isabel replies, trying to diffuse whatever thought process her mother was going down.

"It may be 'harmless' as you say, and I believe you. Steve is a good man, I know he would never act inappropriately with you and I know you will respect him in return. But kotyonok, you living in an apartment with two men, even if one is family, is not going to make you a prize for possible suitors, surely you see that?" Winifred asks, inadvertently describing the reason her and Danny had fallen through. "It's harmless, but not everyone will see it that way. You didn't tell me why you broke up with Daniel Williams, but I'd assume from your current expression that this was one of the reasons behind it."

Isabel swallows down the unpleasant feelings and tries to school her expression. "I'm not a prize to be won, mother. I'm a person. And I'm not interested in dating, not right now. I don't have to worry about what the potential suitors say."

"You're twenty-two years old and unmarried. You haven't dated anyone since you and Daniel separated, and before that was when you were in high school."

"What are you saying? You want me to date lots of men and sleep around like some charity girl until I find someone appropriate?" Isabel asks sourly. "That's a good way to earn a reputation."

"Isabel!" Winifred scolds her daughter's language. "That isn't what I'm saying and you know it. I'm not proposing you be promiscuous, I'm saying that you need to settle down with someone. How do you expect to get ahead in life without a man to support you?" Winifred asks.

While Isabel can see and hear her concern, she feels her inner self-defence take over. "I won't settle down with someone I don't love. You said it yourself, I'm twenty-two. I'm young, I have a whole life ahead of me to find someone. And I'm an adult, what I do in my love life has nothing to do with you or anyone else but me," Isabel spits. "And besides, I'm employed in a respectable field. I can support myself financially. I don't need a man."

"Yes, that's why you'll have poor Bucky sending money home from the front."

Isabel's blood boils. "I didn't ask Bucky to do that, I agreed only on his insistence. He offered and I said no, but he was relentless. It's his money and therefore it's his decision whether he sends it home or keeps it for himself. I am not taking Bucky's money from him. I can't believe you'd even say that."

"I'm sorry," she says sincerely. "I did not mean that." Winifred sighs in frustration at her stubborn daughter. "I just don't understand why you turned down the Williams' son!"

"Conflict of interest," Isabel says simply. "As I said, I won't settle for someone who isn't right."

"But he comes from a wealthy family." The unspoken meanings behind her mother's words hang heavily in the air between them.

Isabel faces away from her mother, shaking her head in equal frustration. She stands, not really knowing where to go, and moves away to the middle of the small room. "Are you trying to say people only marry for wealth? That you only married Dad because he had money? That may be you, but it isn't me. I'm not interested in monetary wealth. I want emotional wealth, Mama. I want to be with someone because I love them and they love me and we want to spend our lives with each other by our sides."

"That sounds like one of Becca's old stories, darling. A fairy tale."

"But it isn't," Isabel insists. "It really isn't, Mama. If the relationship you and Dad have behind closed doors is the same as the one you showed us all our lives, you have that. You two married for love, your meeting was like one of Becca's storybooks. If you wanted me to marry someone for their money, you shouldn't have shown me what true love looks like."

"My darling, you live in a fantasy world. Real life isn't like that. Your life will not be like Becca's stories. The world is not a nice place," Winifred tells her, taking her daughter's hand and dragging her back to sit on the bed.

"I know it isn't. I've seen the things that are happening with my own eyes. There are things in the world we can't change, so why shouldn't we attempt to control what is in our reach. Why should we settle when we can fight for what we want? There are so many things we don't get a say in, I won't live without a say in who I get to spend my life with, too," Isabel argues, squeezing her mother's hand back. She's hoping she's finally getting through to Winifred, proving why she couldn't be with Danny.

"I know what you're talking about. I know what you want. I've seen it long before I think you ever realised it, " Winifred says suddenly, her voice losing its harshness. I've seen the way Steve looks at you, and I've seen the way you look at him. But it will never work, sweetheart. It's just what I said before, a fairy tale, a dream. He cannot provide for you what you think he can. How can Steve make you happy when he is always so sick and miserable, and without stable work?"

Isabel freezes, a pang stabbing in her heart. She is silent for a moment. Even if there was something between her and Steve and they were going steady, she wouldn't leave all of the providing to him. She would work her share. She wants him to be happy, and him being happy means him being healthy and therefore not working in the factories for a pretty penny. In sickness and in health, she'd support him, just as she does now. She'd spend every hospital visit by his bedside and she'd patch him up after every fight. She'd laugh at every joke and accept every offered kiss. She'd never take him for granted, never stop believing how special it all was.

But Steve doesn't look at her in any special way worth pointing out. She may not have been able to stay with Danny because she loved Steve, but that doesn't mean she'd ever have Steve. That doesn't guarantee that the feelings are mutual. She may have to watch Steve grow old with someone else, or not grow old at all if any of his illnesses catch up to him. She may not be happy with anyone else, she may not ever be with anyone else, but anything would be better than lying to herself and being with the wrong person.

Anger boils in Isabel, and she whirls on her mother. "Steve may be unwell and people may think he's entirely unremarkable, but there's something within him that I can't even begin to describe. Steve, he's going to change the world one day. If you can't see that, it's your own loss," she spits.

"Wha–"

"But there is nothing between us," Isabel continues, cutting off her mother. "I may care for Steve but he would never return the feelings. He always talks about wanting to meet the right girl. He wouldn't say that if he believed she was standing right beside him. I'm just his friend, his family, maybe even the sister he never had at most. I need to remember that and continue to be there for him because me and Bucky and even you and Dad, we are the only family Steve has left." It feels heartbreaking to admit it, but she feels as though she is admitting something she's always known deep down, but never had the courage to say before.

Winifred is silent for a moment, before awkwardly fixing her hairstyle that wasn't even out of place. The tension between them could be cut by a knife, the understanding they'd gained severed. Isabel thinks it's a damn shame.

"Have I made myself clear, can we drop it now?" Isabel asks, having calmed down slightly. Her mother nods her head slightly. Isabel nods too.

She stands for another second before lifting up her window and climbing out onto the fire escape. Isabel pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin on her arms, looking out at the road with tears in her eyes. She hears her bedroom door open, and then the murmur of Bucky and Winifred speaking in the kitchen. She doesn't know when Bucky came home or how much he heard, and she puts her head in her arms in embarrassment.

Twenty minutes later, Bucky crawls out of the window. He's had a shower to scrub off the dirt of the docks and also probably to let Isabel have some time alone. The air has cooled, the sun almost completely set behind the buildings plunging the city into a cold darkness. Bucky brings a jacket from his room, slinging it over her hunched shoulders before sitting down next to her. Her face is still hidden in her arms, swallowed by the navy blue of the jacket.

"How much did you hear?"

Bucky sighs. "All of it, I think," he says apologetically. "I tried not to listen, but you were kind of yelling at each other. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Isabel reassures, finally looking up. Her eyes have dried, but her cheeks are still damp, now also bright red with a vicious blush. "What did she say to you? Did she tell you not to let me act on any of my feelings?"

"You know her well," Bucky admits. Both are silent for a moment, Isabel holding a hand to her forehead and covering her eyes. "You don't really believe what you said back there. About Steve only thinking of you as a friend?"

"I don't know," Isabel says after a long pause. "I just don't see how I could be anything else."

Bucky sighs, wrapping arm around Isabel's shoulders and pulling her close, her remaining in a huddled ball. "You and I, we are Steve's family now. It's our job to be there for him."

"I know."

"No matter what way Steve thinks of you, he does love you."

"I know," Isabel says, so quietly Bucky almost misses it.

A/N: So we've had quite a bit of a time jump here, from Christmas 1942 to May 1943. I thought the characters deserved a few months away from sadness and suffering. A lot happened to them in 1942, and while they're hoping for a fresh start, unfortunately that isn't going to happen. We're plummeting full speed toward movie territory now and I'm so excited!

I just love the protective side of Bucky Barnes. We've seen it in this story with his family and friends - just like Steve, Bucky will do anything and be anything for them. I think we see it a lot in the MCU as well. Bucky stays on to fight in the war so he doesn't leave Steve. Even after his time as the Winter Soldier when he comes back to Steve, most of his fighting is in the name of protecting Steve and the new friends he's made along the way. In my mind, I couldn't see how this protectiveness wouldn't be accelerated in regard to his family. He only wants the best for them, especially when he's being taken away from them and it becomes out of his hands.

Thanks for all your lovely reviews, let me know what you think :)