December 8, 1941

The art class was quiet. Only the faint scratching of stiff-bristled brushes on canvas and the occasional sniffle punctuated the gloomy silence. The shock in the aftermath of the attack on Pearl Harbor was still strongly felt by all.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened with a resounding bang, making everyone jump and several people dropped their pencils. Lucille turned to see a young red-haired man breathing heavily in the doorway. She exchanged a glance with Bucky, who looked just as confused as she felt.

"Turn on your radio!" the man in the doorway burst out. "The President is asking Congress to declare war on Japan! America is going to war!"

The previously quiet classroom exploded into a cacophony of cries, shouts, and the scraping of chairs as people left in a rush to find out for themselves if it was true. Lucille felt Bucky grab her hand and he pulled her out into the hall after everyone else, Steve close on their heels. They followed a group of people outside and across the street into the ice cream shop, where a large crowd had already begun to gather. In stark contrast to the art room and the street outside, the ice cream shop was eerily silent as the press of people listened as the shop's radio broadcast the President's speech.

"– confidence in our armed forces," crackled the voice of the President, "with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph, so help us God. I ask that Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December seventh, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire."

Lucille felt Bucky slip an arm around her shoulders and she followed him out of the crowd and back to the street. Steve emerged moments later, staring at the two of them with wide eyes.

Bucky shook his head. "What a world we live in," he sighed.

"C'mon, Steve, keep that left hand up!"

Sitting in a folding chair with her feet propped up on the bottom most rope, Lucille glanced up from her book, watching Bucky adjust the position of Steve's hand before they started circling each other again in the boxing ring.

"I don't think it's very likely that I'm going to get into a boxing match with a Nazi, Buck," Steve panted, just barely dodging a swing from Bucky. "What's the point of this?"

"The point," Bucky explained, faking a jab to Steve's stomach, "is to get you into fighting shape. Besides, even if you don't get into a fist fight in the army, this is still a good skill to learn, don't you think? Maybe if you had known how to box, you wouldn't have lost so many tough scrapes in back alleys." He drove his gloved fist towards Steve's face, pulling back just enough to give him a light tap on the jaw when Steve moved far too slowly to block him.

"James," Lucille broke in, "how about you practice on a punching bag that isn't your best friend?"

"The punching bag isn't going to go enlist next week," he argued, although he was already climbing out of the ring. "Steve's gotta be ready."

Lucille rolled her eyes. "You beating him up isn't going to make him ready – it's going to make him look like he was hit by a bus."

"Gee, thanks, Luci," Steve groaned, leaning heavily against the ropes.

Lucille stood up and patted his arm apologetically. "I'm not sure boxing is the thing for you. You might be better off doing push-ups and running laps." Steve just shrugged, not arguing against the idea of training that didn't involve taking punches.

"You got lucky this time, punk," Bucky joked, pulling off his gloves and hanging them around the corner post.

"Jerk," Steve shot back almost unthinkingly, tugging off his own gloves.

"Children," Lucille chided, failing to hide her smile.

Bucky reached out and caught her around the waist. He grinned and pulled her closer, catching her lips with his and kissing her sweetly. Lucille wrapped her arms around his neck, content to let it last forever, but Steve awkwardly cleared his throat after only a few moments and they broke apart. Smiling, Bucky pressed his forehead to hers before stepping back and helping Steve out of the ring.

Lucille tugged her wooly scarf more snugly around her neck. The snow had stopped falling, and the two inches it had left behind crunched under her feet as she, Bucky, and Steve made their way to the recruiting station.

Steve slowed and pointed to a brick building on the other side of the street. "39 Whitehall Street," he said, checking the address with the one he had scribbled on the back of a flyer. "That's it." Across the street, a group of young men exited the office, papers in hand, talking excitedly.

Lucille followed Bucky and Steve across the street. Bucky motioned for Steve to go in without him. He turned to Lucille. "I don't think it will take long," he told her, reaching up to tuck an errant wisp of brown hair behind her ear.

Lucille smiled, though she knew it probably looked strained. "There's a soda shop down the block; I'll get some hot chocolate while I wait." She paused, biting her lower lip. "I don't know if I should say 'good luck'… I don't want to say goodbye," she admitted.

"Then don't," Bucky murmured, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'll be back in no time at all." Lucille nodded, willing herself to believe she had nothing to worry about. Bucky smiled and gave her a quick peck on the lips before heading inside.

It had been nearly an hour before Bucky and Steve finished at the recruiting station and found Lucille in a corner booth at the soda shop. Bucky slid in next to her while Steve took the other side. Lucille could immediately tell that Steve was unhappy, so she asked him what happened first.

"I got 4-F. It means I didn't pass the medical exam and they won't take me," he explained when she looked confused.

Lucille sighed, reaching across the table to give his hand a squeeze. She didn't say she was sorry, because, selfishly, she was relieved. Steve was strong-willed and had the bravest heart of anyone she knew, but he wasn't fit for war. She couldn't imagine her friend making it through training, let alone actually fighting on the front lines. Steeling herself, she turned to look at Bucky.

He smiled, but it was off; it didn't reach his eyes and there was a sadness to it that made her heart clench painfully. "1-A," he told her. "I leave for training in two days."

-0-

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