22.

Brooklyn, New York City

June 15th, 1943

The docks are positively packed with grieving parents, siblings, grandparents, friends, and more, all of them saying a heartfelt goodbye to their boys as they sail away to Europe. A band plays patriotic hymns at the far end of the dock, the melody revving up the men as they make their way up the ramp and board the ship, waving to their loved ones from the decks, suitcases in hand and uniforms donned.

Becca holds tightly to Isabel's arm as the Barnes family stand around Bucky in the middle, dressed in his Army blues and looking as though he's trying not to fall apart. Steve had said another goodbye to Bucky at their apartment early that morning. He'd woken up feeling weak and unwell, barely able to breathe, probably due to being out late in the cool air the night before. Bucky had said his final goodbyes, promised again not to win until Steve got there, and dragged Isabel out the door before Steve could put up a fight.

Winifred fusses over Bucky a while, making sure he has everything packed. Not that it's possible to hurry back and get something if he had, but it's the thought that counts. Then she's hugging her eldest son goodbye with tear-filled eyes, fussing some more over his uniform, straightening his tie. She pinches his cheeks and tells him to be careful. She has a warm mother's touch, one that Bucky knows he will miss painfully when he's gone. He leans into her embrace, trying to memorise the feel of her familiar arms around his neck and the smell of her cheap perfume, the one she's worn since he was a child.

George Barnes shakes Bucky's hand tightly, tells him he's proud of him. He claps Bucky's shoulder, a sadness in his own eyes, and Bucky feels a mutual understanding about to become known between them, one that never could have been there had Bucky not gone to war. Bucky is about to see firsthand the effects of war on a person, and perhaps that will bring him one step closer to knowing his father, or rather, the man his father had been changed into. George nods and then steps to the side.

Becca lets go of Isabel's arm, running into Bucky's offered embrace. Bucky lifts her off the ground and spins them in a circle, both of them laughing. His army cap flies off his head and Robbie hurries to pick it up from where its flown down the dock, avoiding the trampling of people's feet.

"I'm going to miss you," Becca says into Bucky's neck, hugging tightly.

"And I'll miss you more," Bucky promises, setting her down in front of him. "Be good for Mom and Dad while I'm away." Robbie comes back then, sticking the hat wonkily back on Bucky's head. "And you too, Robbie. Be good, help Mom and Dad, and both of you do your schoolwork. I'm so proud of both of you," Bucky adds to them both, grabbing Robbie in a hug as well. "I'll be back before you know it."

As Becca backs away from Bucky, she has tears in her eyes. She runs to Winifred, allowing himself to be enveloped in her mother's arms. Robbie hands Bucky a comic book for him to take with him, one of his favourites that Bucky used to read to him, and Bucky takes it gratefully, rolling it up and pocketing it inside his jacket. Bucky looks up then, stepping closer to Isabel.

"You'll be fine," Isabel says, both a reassurance to Bucky and to herself. She straightens his cap on his dark hair and then leans into Bucky's warmth, holding him close. "Please, be careful. Promise me you'll come home again."

"You know I will," Bucky promises. "Couldn't leave my best girls."

Isabel smiles, pulling away from Bucky's hug. "Write as often as you can. I know it'll be tricky when you're on the move, but if I hear from you that you're doing well it will be more comforting than you'll probably ever know."

"Only if you write back," Bucky insists. "Keep me updated. I want to know all the bits of gossip you learn at the hospital. That stuff is entertaining."

"I'll ask Katrina and Molly every day for something new to tell you, I promise," Isabel says with a laugh. Many a nights they've been entertained by what Isabel learnt in her shifts at the hospital. They can never look at some of the people in their neighbourhood the same again.

Bucky smiles at her, his eyes crinkling. Then he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small envelope. He puts it into her hands, closing them around it to hide it. "If something does happen to me, if I don't come back… This is for everyone to read," he says in a voice low enough for only her to hear.

"Bucky–"

"Please. Look after it."

Isabel looks down at the envelope in her hand. She sighs shallowly before putting it in the pocket of her dress. "I will," she promises, giving him one more tight hug.

The loud blaring of the boat's horn rings out over the docks, signifying the soldiers to hurry and board. Bucky looks surprisingly calm. "I'll see you all soon. I love you guys," he calls, slowly walking backward away from them. They watch as he makes his way down to the entrance of the ship, walking up the ramp with the crowd and onto the deck. He walks back down the boat to the deck near them, leaning against the banister and waving back.

The ship eventually moves away from the docks, the horn resounding through the harbour once again. The Barnes family stands on the dock watching the boat chug off into the distance until they can't see it anymore, only a speck on the far-off horizon.

Winifred and George head off with the children, Winifred and Becca both shedding silent tears. Isabel stands a while longer, until almost everyone else has cleared from the docks, almost as though if she waits long enough the ship will circle back to drop them all back off. But it doesn't, eventually disappearing in the distance en route to England.

Bang, bang, "Brother? Do you have a brother?"

Isabel flinches as the memory resurfaces out of nowhere, hitting her like a ton of bricks.

"Don't let him go."

"I can't stop that."

"You don't need to worry. I'm sure he can handle himself."

"No one can."

Isabel takes a deep steadying breath, screwing her eyes shut against the image of the blinded, burnt limbless shell of a man lying on the hospital cot. The image slowly fades away, giving way again to the sight of the churning water in front of her. Isabel takes another breath, chews on her fingernail, and then turns on her heel, feeling a sudden need to escape the docks. She can't be bothered catching the subway, so instead she dejectedly and hastily weaving her way through the Brooklyn streets.

When Isabel finally reaches home, she finds all of Steve's stuff strewn messily across the living room. She walks through the apartment that looks like a tornado stormed its way through, finding Steve sitting heavily on the bed in Bucky's room, a worn suitcase opened in front of him and half packed with his clothing and possessions.

"What are you doing?" She asks quietly from the doorway. Steve jumps, having not heard her enter.

Steve looks a little guilty, but he also looks worryingly pale and weak, slouching where he sits. It's probably taken him all morning to get this far. "How was it? Did Bucky get off alright?"

Isabel narrows her eyes at Steve. "It was fine. Mom and Becca got pretty emotional, but what can you expect? Bucky'll be thousands of miles away within a few days." She shakes her head. "Don't change the subject, Steve. What's with the suitcase? The packing?"

"Last night at the recruitment centre, I said I've been given a chance?" Steve begins, and Isabel nods. Steve hadn't said much about it, had said it was confidential, but Isabel has the feeling he didn't know a lot about what he was getting himself into anyway. "I'm going to basic training, of sorts."

Isabel is very quiet, her lips in a flat line. "To become a soldier?"

"Of sorts."

"That's very vague," Isabel observes, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning in the doorway. She presses her arms firmly against her to hold in the emotions threatening to burst out of her.

"I can't talk about it, it's confidential," Steve finally whispers.

"I know, you said last night," Isabel says, her voice accepting but suspicious. "When do you leave?"

"Today. At two."

Steve sees Isabel visibly wince. She hides it by looking behind her at the clock on the kitchen wall. 12. "And when will you be home?"

"In two weeks. On the 29th."

"That's shorter than Bucky went to training for. Shorter than the average basic, too," Isabel notes, her eyebrow raised.

"Yes, much shorter. It isn't a regular boot camp, I don't think," Steve agrees. He manages to close the lid to his suitcase, clipping the latches shut with a grunt.

Isabel nods. Steve isn't going to say anymore. "Are you sure you should be going? You don't seem very well today and boot camp certainly won't help," she notes, stepping forward to hold her hand to Steve's forehead. He hasn't got a temperature.

"I'm fine," Steve promises, making himself sit a little straighter. "Just feeling a little under the weather."

Isabel nods again. There's no use arguing with Steve. She knows how much he wants this, and he certainly won't let a cold hold him back.

She disappears momentarily, and Steve hears the sound of rustling paper in her bedroom before Isabel reappears and hands him two rectangles wrapped in newspaper and tied with string. He takes them from her, feeling the weight and shape of the two books through the layers of newspaper. "To keep you entertained on the bus or ship or whatever you'll be travelling on. Just try not to wreck them, they're my only copies."

"Thanks, Belle. I won't, I promise," Steve says, putting the two wrapped books carefully into his bag that he'll carry on the bus to Camp Lehigh. He secures that bag too, it being ready to go, and sighs. He looks around at how much he has left to pack, clearly not having the energy.

Then, he stands with some effort and moves right up to Isabel, his eye line direct with hers. "I'm sorry," is all he can say, because it feels like the guilt of leaving her is choking him and clogging his thoughts and he can't think straight.

"It's okay," Isabel says.

"I feel terrible, for leaving you when Bucky just went away…" Steve trails off.

"It really is okay, Steve," Isabel reassures with a forced smile. "This is what you want. I may not agree with it and I may not see the sense in it, but you're my family and I support you in whatever you endeavour. Don't worry about me. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." She smiles at Steve, but it's sad and it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Steve pulls her into a hug. She leans her head against his shoulder, and Steve pulls away all too soon. "Be careful."

"You know I will."

"No, I really don't know that," Isabel laughs.

The two hours until Steve gets picked up passes in a blur as Isabel fusses over his packing choices, helps him fit everything in and feeds him one last meal. They eat their late morning brunch slowly at the dining table, making small talk, though there isn't much to talk about considering Steve isn't allowed to speak about his impending boot camp and any conversation about Bucky is a little too hurtful.

At five minutes to two, Steve stands and gathers up his suitcase, preparing to depart downstairs to wait for his ride. He stands by the front door a moment, double checking he has everything from the mental list in his head.

"You have your asthma cigarettes?" Isabel checks, appearing beside him.

"Yep, in my backpack."

"And all your other medications?"

"In there too," Steve reassures, the medications bag weighing down the pack on his back.

Isabel nods. "And make sure you eat as much red meat and spinach as you can get in the mess hall. Last thing we need is your iron levels dropping too low again with all that exertion," she pushes.

"Isabel, I'll be fine," Steve says with a laugh, pushing away her hands that flit around his hair and face, tidying the untamed blonde locks. "I'll be okay, and I'll be home in two weeks."

"I know," she says with a sad smile. "You're still sure this is the right thing?"

"I'm sure. If I wasn't, I'd stay."

She pulls him into another hug, tight around his shoulders, and takes a deep breath. "I don't ever want to let go," she eventually says with a laugh.

Steve secretly wishes she wouldn't. "If I could bring you along to basic, I would, but I think you'd get an awful lot of unwanted attention."

"And I'm sure you would take it upon yourself to sort it all out for me," she teases, pulling away with a lot of effort. "I'm going to take a page from Bucky's book and tell you not to do anything stupid."

"I won't," Steve laughs. The two stare at each other for a moment, the clock on the wall ticking loudly toward two in the afternoon. "I'd better go," Steve mutters, picking his heavy suitcase up from the ground.

"Yep," Isabel says, her bottom lip trembling only a little bit. "Good luck," she says, pressing a final kiss to his cheek.

Steve nods his thanks and quickly makes his way out the apartment door. Isabel watches him struggle down the staircase, managing to get to the floor level. He turns and smiles up at her from the bottom, waving, before disappearing through the front door of the complex and out onto the street.

Isabel closes the apartment door slowly, acutely aware of the silence permeating the large living room and kitchen. She leans against the door for a moment, her legs feeling a little weak beneath her. It hits her suddenly that she's now all alone with her own thoughts in the apartment where everything reminds her of them.

The two weeks pass incredibly slowly. Isabel fills in her time with work, taking on every extra shift she is offered. She's barely home the entire two weeks, and some nights she sleeps at the hospital just so that she isn't home alone.

Every night that one of the nurses invites her out to drinks after their shift, she accepts and accompanies them to the bars, something she doesn't normally do considering they're all normally beyond exhausted. Thy sit in a booth in the corner and a few of the flirtier nurses use their charms to get them all drinks bought for them by the men at the bar. Isabel laughs along with them and keeps up with their alcohol intake, letting the drinks wash away both the loneliness of her home and the pain when she thinks of her patients. At the end of the night they pile into a taxi and help each other get home. Isabel stumbles into her apartment, locking the door behind her, and somehow makes her way to her bed. It goes that way a few times, and then she wakes up the next day and goes to work again.

Isabel takes herself to the markets on her only full day off, spending hours walking between stalls and purchasing what she needs. The stall workers seem a little too cheery for her, but she smiles back and hands over the money, shoving her purchases in a canvas bag over her shoulder.

Isabel buys a few extra things to drop off to her mother on the way home, accepting the invite to stay for coffee and ending up staying for dinner as well. Dinner is a solemn and quiet affair, and when Robbie asks where Steve is, Isabel just shakes her head. She helps clean up the dishes and then she has a look at one of Becca's latest art projects, a painting of their street. It's beautiful, and she knows Steve would be proud of it. She tells Becca that, and the girl beams. Winifred tacks it to the front of the pantry door.

Once darkness falls and the family runs out of things to do, Isabel stands and says her goodbyes for the night. She shoves on a coat, even though it's probably not that cold outside.

A hand on her arm stops her from leaving.

"You aren't walking home alone at night," George tells her. "I'll drive you."

The father and daughter sit in the warmth of the family car as it putters along through the streets toward Isabel's apartment. The streets are busy as it's summer, lots of people out and about. The radio plays softly in the cabin, drowning out the outside noise.

George pulls up to the curb outside his kids' apartment, putting the car out of gear and enabling the handbrake. He turns to his daughter, looking at her expectantly.

"You want to tell me what's got you so down?" George asks quietly.

"It's nothing," Isabel says hurriedly.

"Don't lie to me, darlin'. You're my daughter, I've known you your whole life. Something's got you sad and I could tell the second you walked in the door this afternoon."

Isabel sighs, looking away. "It's silly, but I miss them."

George sighs. "It ain't silly," he reassures, pulling on Isabel's arm and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "They've been a big part of your life for a really long time. They're not just friends, they're family. And both of them left at the same time, went away somewhere that's unsure. If you weren't missing them and worried for them, I'd be questioning it."

Isabel nods, wiping away a stray tear.

"Your apartment a little too big and quiet?" George asks knowingly. Isabel nods. "What if I send Bec over for a few days. Then you won't be alone?"

"Please," Isabel says. "But only if she hasn't got anything else on."

"She's on holidays and she misses you too. I'm sure I won't have to ask her twice."

Isabel gets home from her shift the next day around five, heading straight to the bathroom to wash up. Once she's fresh and no longer smells like sanitizer, she beelines for her bed and face plants straight into the pillows, content to just lay there for the rest of the night.

She jolts when there's a knock at the door, and hurries up to answer it. Her eyebrows rise when she's greeted by Becca, who stands on the other side of the door, smiling at her. Then she remembers the conversation with her father the night before and she breathes a sigh of relief.

"Hey, Bec."

"Hi, Issy. I hope you aren't busy but I thought we could hang out."

"You don't gotta act like it was your choice to come. I know Dad asked you to spend some time with me. But I always have time for my baby sister," Isabel invites her inside, engulfing her in a tight hug.

"I did want to come, I wanted to come weeks ago, just didn't want to interrupt your work," Becca promises, hugging back just as tight, almost as though she knows what Isabel's thinking.

"You still hungry?" Isabel asks, moving to the kitchen to make herself something, since she hasn't eaten yet.

"Yep," Becca says, waltzing up to the counter.

"What a silly question. Aren't you always hungry?" Isabel laughs.

"Of course, I'm still growing. I'll pass you soon if you aren't careful," Becca says proudly.

She's nearly thirteen now, not that much shorter than Isabel, and she's certainly matured in the last few years. The shock of the war has had a profound effect on every child her age, throwing them forward into their teenage year maturity well before their time.

"I'd better watch out," Isabel murmurs, smiling at Becca. She slides a plate with a sandwich down the counter and Becca catches it, taking a bite.

They sit down at the kitchen table to eat. "So, what's it like here by yourself?" Becca asks, polishing off her sandwich quickly.

"It has its perks; I can listen to whatever I want, whenever I want, and the same goes for what I eat, and there's hardly any washing up. Still, it isn't the most enjoyable thing I can think of, but it isn't horrible. It just gets kind of lonely."

"Yeah," Becca sighs, resting her chin in her hand. "Our house is kind of lonely, too. Mom and Dad are at work, so it's just Robbie and I at home now that we're on holidays. But Robbie likes to go out with his friends or read comic books in his room, so he isn't much company."

"Have you tried going out with your friends?" Isabel asks.

"They're all busy going away for summer vacation, or working, or they have a lot of family events on. You look tired," Becca notes, abruptly changing to subject the way she used to when she was younger.

Isabel laughs, then rubs at her eyes. "Uh, yeah. I haven't been sleeping well. And I've been working a lot."

"I haven't been sleeping well, either," Becca admits.

"Why not?"

"I've just been thinking of things. About Bucky. And about the war. We were learning all about it in school. The things the teachers say are happening, it really gets you thinking."

Isabel eyes her sister carefully for a moment, before making her decision. "You wanna sleep over tonight? We can call Mom and tell her you won't be home until tomorrow. It'll be fun. We can do each other's hair and makeup, and maybe do some dancing? I'll show you how to Lindy Hop."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Becca says sheepishly. "I wasn't really planning on going home."

"Ow! You pulled my hair!"

"Sorry," Isabel laughs, pulling the roller out a little more carefully from Becca's now set brown curls. The curled strands bounce when the roller is taken out of them, and Isabel puffs it with her hand into place, setting it with a bit of hairspray. "There, your hair's all done."

Becca opens her eyes from the hairspray blast, looking at her new hairstyle in the mirror. "Wow," she gushes, bouncing her curls and watching them spring back into place. "I look just like you."

"You wish," Isabel jokes. "Turn around in your chair."

Becca obeys, swivelling around to face her sister. Isabel carefully lines her lips with red lipstick, coats her eyelashes in mascara, and fills in the gaps in her brows. "There. Now you look more like me," she says, showing Becca her appearance in the mirror. She truly does look like Isabel. As Becca ages, the resemblance grows more and more. They have the same hair colour, eyes and eye shape, brow shape and nose, though Becca inherited Winifred's more rounded face shape. "Just beautiful," Isabel gushes, resting her chin on Becca's shoulder.

"Not as beautiful as you, Belle."

"Nonsense," Isabel berates. "Now that we're both all dolled up, I say it's time for a bit of dancing. Ma'am," she offers her hand to Becca and Becca takes it, allowing her sister to lead her back into the living room.

Isabel turns on the radio and they dance around the living room a while, Isabel teaching Becca a few dances for when she's older. They stumble through the steps, their feet stomping along the warm wooden floor along to the beat, flicking their skirts around as they bounce around on their toes. Isabel feels a lightness to herself she hasn't felt in a while as she lets her hair down, allowing herself to relax. Isabel finds herself smiling properly for maybe the first time since Bucky got his orders, watching Becca dance clumsily around the living room. The girl's childish optimism is refreshing, and it makes Isabel's heart clench with love and appreciation for her sister.

They retire to Isabel's bedroom once the sun sets outside and the world calms, the hour growing later. Becca changes into one of Isabel's spare nightgowns and climbs into Isabel's single bed, waiting for her sister. Isabel emerges from the bathroom, closing the bedroom door behind her. She goes and opens the window to let the cooler air circulate into the room, the rush of the traffic audible in the distance.

"You have to excuse my odd habits, but I sometimes sleep with this," Isabel says, getting the stuffed toy Bucky won her at Coney Island down from the top of her wardrobe. She carries it over to the bed pulls back the bed sheets. "Move over, Bec."

Becca shuffles over, leaving just enough room for Isabel, who clambers in under the sheet and lies her head on the pillow, smiling sleepily at Becca, who looks exhausted herself. "You gettin' tired, yet? We did a lot of dancin'," she asks the younger girl, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.

"Nope," Becca says, though she's noticeably forcing herself to stay awake.

"You sure? You look pretty tired."

"Have you heard from Bucky yet?" Becca asks quietly, eyes wide as she stares at Isabel in the dim light of the room.

"No, not yet."

"Neither have we. Do you think he's okay?"

"Yeah, Bec. I'm sure he's fine. It takes a good nine days to get to England. He probably hasn't even reached his position in Europe yet. He's still safe."

"For now," Becca mutters.

"Bucky's strong, Becca. He'll be surrounded by men who are like brothers. They'll have each other's backs. He'll be okay. He's got his head screwed on, he's smart, he knows what to do. They've been trained for this."

"I know that," Becca says with a loud sigh. "It just doesn't make it any easier to see him go."

"I know it doesn't," Isabel reassures, putting an arm on Becca's shoulder. "I promise the second I get a letter from him, you'll be the first to know."

"Okay," Becca agrees. "You too."

Isabel nods. Becca nods. Then Becca rolls over, away from Isabel, and buries her head under the sheet. Isabel watches the back of Becca's head a while before falling asleep, her arms firmly wrapped around the oversized bear between them.