Chapter Text
It's 1943. The USA was at war, the whole world was at war. An enemy had risen in Europe and now everyone was called to do their part.
Except for Ryland Grace.
Not that he didn't want to take part. He had visited almost every recruitment centre in the entirety of New York. The streets were grey in the drizzling rain, Grace heard splashes as people ran through puddles. It had rained most of the week and the weather suited Grace's mood perfectly.
He walked past a wall of posters all proclaiming that YOU were required for the army and to enlist and do your part for the country and for freedom.
Grace wrinkled his nose up at the posters, he was trying to enlist! Trying to do his part.
He wrapped his thin coat around his small frame and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He had forgotten to wear a hat and now his blonde hair was wet, matted and dark with the rain.
He hurried around the corner of the building and joined the end of the queue of older men. One jeered at him as Grace walked past, “Oi! Why aren't you over there fighting the good fight already?!” Grace shot him a short glance and continued to follow the line. “Coward!” the man shouted as Grace turned the corner to take his place in the queue.
“I'm not a coward,” he said softly under his breath. “I just don't want to join a suicide mission. Why does no one else understand that?”
The rain continued to drizzle as the queue slowly shuffled forwards. The sun began to dip below the horizon as Grace spotted the entrance to the building.
Uncle Sam followed Grace in the various posters proclaiming that he needed to enlist now. The stern face seemed to scowl at him, Grace felt his shoulders hunch to hide his face in his coat.
The recruitment office was a small office building that had been sequestered for the army. A bored looking older woman watched disinterested over thick rimmed glasses, as Grace hopped up the steps to her desk and stood up straight. He had practised the posture at home and he hoped it made him look taller.
“Name?” the woman asked in a bored tone, the gum in her mouth rolled around her tongue as she spoke.
“Ryland Grace”
She picked up a pen and scribbled on a form in front of her.
“Address?”
Grace gave his address and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Yer a long way from home, we don't get many from Brooklyn in here.”
“Oh?” Grace asked interested, “How many have you had from Brooklyn in here?”
She thought for a moment, “Yer the first.”
Grace nodded.
The woman sniffed and passed the form over the desk to Grace, “This is fer you, down the hall to the right and then a left.”
Grace nodded again, taking the offered form and glancing down the hallway. “Thank you.” he muttered as he walked away.
The hallway, beige walls and light green tiled floor was lit by large overhead lights. Grace felt a little lost as he heard his feet echo with every scuff of his shoes. He left little spots of water as he walked. A door on his left opened and a man walked out with a white lab coat and clipboard. He collided with Grace and they both let out a small omph.
The clipboard clattered to the floor with a loud noise, Grace uttered an apology and bent to pick up the fallen clipboard. “Oh, thank you.” the older man said in a clipped European accent. Grace handed the clipboard to the man and they stared at each other.
Grace saw older, white and grey hair, balding at the top. The man wore glasses and stood with a slight roundedness to his shoulders. He smiled and his brown eyes glittered. “Hallo,” he said, “Are you here to volunteer?”
Grace nodded slowly, silently. He knew the drill, the man in the lab coat would take his measurements and weight and tell him he was too sickly to wield a weapon.
“Have you been seen to yet?” The doctor asked and indicated the room behind him, “I was just about to take a break but I have one more left in me.”
Grace nodded again and entered the empty room.
“My name is Dr Erskine, Abraham Erskine.” The Dr said as he closed the door behind him. “Who are you?”
“Ryland Grace, but my friends call me Grace.” Or at least they would if he had any.
The room was small, efficient, a single bed and a chair for comfort. A weighing scale, one of those with the bar that tipped when they got to the exact weight. A measuring scale on the wall that went up to 7ft tall and a few pencils and papers on a small desk with a chair.
It was the exact room Grace had seen in various other recruitment offices. “Well Grace, please, take a seat.” Dr Erskine smiled as Grace took a seat on the offered chair beside the bed. “You must be cold in that wet coat, why don't you take it off and I will start on the usual questions.”
Grace dropped the coat from his shoulders and rubbed his arms to try and get some warmth back into them. The Dr stared at the thin frame of the man who had walked in to enlist.
“Have you been to a recruiting office before?” He asked curiously. A small nod from Grace, “I've been to one just like this one over in Manhattan, and a couple in Queens and many in Brooklyn.” He shrugged softly.
“And what makes you want to enlist? To go overseas to fight and kill Nazis?” The Dr was curious over this sickly looking blonde haired man with blue eyes that shone behind enormous glasses.
Grace thought for a moment. He had never been asked this question before. Usually the recruitment official took one look at him and stamped the reject stamp of 4F on the form.
“Is this a test?” he asked curiously.
“Yes.” The Dr replied.
“I don't want to kill anyone. I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from.” he answered honestly.
The Dr in the lab coat nodded his head and wrote on his form. “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve. I can offer you a chance, only a chance.” The Dr stamped the form 1A. Grace looked at the stamp and took a deep breath of relief.