Italy – November 1943

Night and day, day and night, there was no differentiating between the two anymore. Everyday seemed to stretch longer than its allotted 24 hours. All of the men now had permanent frowns etched upon their faces. They had lost all of their strength. Too many of their comrades were dying. The Colonel was doing the best that he could but standards had to be lowered. White had turned brown and black had turned grey. There was no escaping the ever-present coppery scent of blood in the air, mixed with the perfume of burnt gunpowder, which left a bitter taste in Lucy's mouth. The wind no longer carried any laughter along with it, no refreshing and playful breeze to banish the stink of ripe bodies. And it was much too exhausting to cry. So, they all found themselves stuck in a perpetual state of anticipation. Preparing, only to be knocked down before they could finish, again.

Its almost my birthday, Lucy mused to herself. She was currently trying to find Peggy, taking a break from helping Howard back in their makeshift lab tent. Strange, how trivial everything seemed in light of the war. It'd been almost a year, since James had been deployed. They had exchanged a few letters back and forth, but letters were getting lost much more frequently now. Where are all these men coming from? She wondered, then she caught a snippet of their conversation.

"…107th…" floated a voice as the soldiers walked past her. "Such a shame really."

Lucy stopped, suddenly paralyzed with worry, and then sprang into action, rushing over to the men, "Pardon me!" They looked over at her. "Excuse me, but did you say something about the 107th? Is there trouble? Are they alright?" she asked quickly.

They stared at her, still a little unused to seeing a woman in the mist of war this close to enemy lines. Finally one of the men spoke up, "You might want to go speak with the Colonel about that ma'am."

Without another word, Lucy sprinted toward the large tent, bursting inside still panicking over her brother.

-permafrost-

These were the roughest looking men Steve had ever seen. They looked about to kill him, if they weren't too exhausted already.

"How may of you are ready to help me sock ol' Adolf on the jaw?" Steve recited. The silence from the crowd was deafening. "Okay….uh" he stammered continuing, "I need a volunteer."

"We already volunteered. How do you think I got here?" came a disgruntled shout from the back of the audience. The rest of the men chuckled along dryly.

"Bring back the girls." Another demanded, and the cheering increased.

Looking off to the side of the stage, Steve tried to appease them, "I think they only know the one song. But, um.. let me…" he faltered starting to walk off, "I'll see what I can do."

"You do that, sweetheart." The man in the front catcalled.

"Nice boots, Tinkerbell."

And the laughter doubled.

"Come on guys. We're all on the same team here." Steve tried to remind them.

"Hey, Captain!" one man stood up, "Sign this!" and he lowered the back of his pants.

Steve sighed. A few other men stood up as well. This time they started throwing rotten food at him. And the clapping began, whistling as well. Retiring from the stage, Steve left the girls to do their song again.

"Don't worry about it," his manager soothed him, "they'll warm up to you. Don't worry."

It didn't help him much.

-permafrost-

Dear Lucy,

I think our letters keep getting lost in the mail. I don't know if you've gotten any of my last ones, but I'll tell you again anyway. I'm in Italy now. We're on tour for the active service men. But to be completely frank, I think they're just here for the girls. I'm going to include a sketch of how I look, parading around the stage everyday…The weather is nice here, it's raining right now. I know how much you love the rain. How it washes everything clean and leaves an earthy scent after it's gone…I miss you. Hope to hear from you soon.

Love,

Steve

-permafrost-

He was currently finishing that sketch. It depicted a monkey, wearing his Captain America uniform, carrying his shield and an umbrella, whilst riding a unicycle. He was rather proud of this sketch. It was turning out to be one of his better ones. Maybe it'll make her happy, he thought ruefully, not like how I feel about this job.

"Hello Steve." Came a British accent from behind him.

"Hi." He replied in astonishment.

Peggy responded with a weary smile, "Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"Officially," Peggy sat down behind him, adjusting her coat, "I'm not here at all. That was quiet a performance." She stared at him, analyzing his expression. She wanted to tell him about Lucy but decided to wait a bit.

"Yeah, uh… " Steve wiped his nose looking away, "I had to improvise a little bit. The crowds I'm used to are usually more, uh…twelve." He finished dejectedly.

Peggy raised her eyebrow, "And I understand you're America's new hope."

"Bond sales take a 10% bump in every state I visit." He recited to her shrugging.

"Is that Senator Brandt I hear?" she asked sarcastically.

"At least he's got me doing this." Steve defended weakly, "Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab."

"And these are your only two options?" Peggy scoffed, "A lab rat, or a dancing monkey." She nodded at his drawing, "You were meant for more than this you know. This," she waved at the stage, "Wasn't what Lucy and Erskine had in mind when they spent years developing that serum. We all know it, me, Phillips, Erskine, Lucy." She finished meaningfully.

Steve looked at her, opening his mouth to say something then thought better of it.

"What?" she prodded gently, encouraging him to speak.

"You know, for the lonest time I dreamed about," he paused shaking his head, "coming over seas, and being on the front lines. Serving my country." He said wishfully, "Finally got everything I wanted. And I'm wearing tights." He finished bitterly.

Abruptly, the urgent beeping of a car horn interrupted the melodic silence that was the rainfall. Indistinguishable shouts could be heard resonating from the medical tent. The men splashed about in the mud. They traded dryness for saving the lives of their brothers. Hurriedly, they rushed about, bringing in man after man on stretchers.

Peggy and Steve watched on from the stage tent.

Steve whispered, "They look like they've been through hell."

"These men more than most." Peggy agreed. Seeing Steve's questioning look she clarified, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured…"

Steve asked urgently standing up, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy asked confused.

"Come on!" he shouted as they ran through the rain.