Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

No matter under what circumstances you leave it, home does not cease to be home. No matter how you lived there - well or poorly. Joseph Brodsky

-

The Triskelion bellowed fire and smoke behind the Winter Soldier as he dragged the unconscious form of Captain America onto the bank of the Potomac. The mud clung to his boots, making his steps heavier and heavier as the wet earth caked on. His dislocated arm was held stiffly folded against his stomach. His metal hand unclutched the harness of the Captain’s suit when he was clear of the murky water. The Soldier paused to watch his target breathe.

He couldn’t remember if this was the first mission he had ever failed. But relief swelled in his chest as the Captain’s torso rose and fell with ragged shallow breaths. 

He didn’t understand why he felt relief. Was it from his target refusing to fight back? Was it from what the Captain had said before the floor had tumbled away from beneath them?

‘To the end of the line,’ the Captain had said.

The meaning of the phrase nagged at the Soldier but he had no time to dwell right now. He could not stay. Hydra, even wounded, always hunted for its weapon after each mission if he failed to appear on his own. And something deep in his head was screaming at him to run and to run far.

Besides the Captain was hurt, it was best to lead Hydra away from the life the Soldier had just saved. He limped into the woods, leaving the Captain safer than if the Soldier had stayed.

Even with the lack of actual speed, he was running with a new mission in his head now.

And his destination?

Answers that Captain America could not solely give and that Hydra would eagerly keep hidden.

-

The people were restless and weary after the world watched the Insight helicarriers burn. The large cities were on high alert, preparing themselves for more chaos. And everyone was hungry to understand why the carriers had been put down.

The books on Captain America became very popular after his heroic deed was proclaimed on all the news channels. Searching the web was messy due to news stations spinning their accounts of what had happened and their opinions on the matter. That and cell videos of the ‘carriers falling into the water. Some sites recounted the Captain’s story. Even then, they preferred to focus on the present and the recent like the aliens in Manhattan.

However, the museum loudly reminded people about its exhibit on Captain America. That's where the Soldier started.

He walked in for simple recon on the super soldier. Only to pause in mid-step, when his eyes landed on a painted mural depicting Captain America and his Howling Commandos. His stare narrowed in on the face of the man in blue coat. The crowd around him almost melted away in that moment. It felt like his legs would give out beneath him.

When he felt like he could move again, he weaved through the crowd over to the placard before Bucky Barnes’ uniform. Somehow, in some way he knew what wearing that blue jacket felt like. He knew that the collar was usually kept down and not flipped up like it was currently displayed as. He knew what the fabric felt like when dirt had to be brushed off the sleeves.

Tearing his eyes away from the jacket, the Soldier read the placard.

This coat is a replica of James “Bucky” Barnes’ jacket. Barnes originally owned two of the same jacket. One is housed in a museum in Brooklyn, his hometown, after being donated by living relatives. The other was never recovered when Barnes died in 1945.

The Soldier shivered before he searched for more blurbs on Barnes though out the exhibit.

And here and there he found them. They came in many forms-

Film reels of the Captain and Barnes as soldiers. A new reel featuring the first integrated unit.

Photos of Barnes’ family. Three young sisters, a mother, a father, and a boy all dressed in their Sunday best.

Sketches of Barnes drawn in pencil by Captain Rogers. A profile shot of a young dark haired boy sitting on a fire escape enjoying the rare treat of an apple.

One of Barnes’ old rifles that had J.B.B. and the wing patch carved into the left side of the stock.

And each item so familiar, it ached.

A small flash of an image appeared in his mind’s eye as he lingered by the sniper rifle; he couldn’t hold on to the mirage. It was like sand in his hands. But he could faintly feel a pocket knife in his hand carving, his hands warmed by a small campfire as he worked.

The Soldier sought peace and rest in a dark corner of the exhibit. He easily tuned out the video of a brunette-haired woman with red, red lips speaking about Rogers. Only when the overwhelming feeling calmed did he stand again and continue to walk the last sections of the exhibit.

He didn’t make it past the display of the life and death of Bucky Barnes. While there had been bits and pieces before, here revealed more. A map of Barnes’ path during the war, comments on his childhood, being a POW in Italy, the tale of his death.  

He felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He had known Rogers, been best friends with him. And Hydra had burned out Rogers and everything else that had made him human.

He had to know more about his past, he thought as he watched the little reel of Barnes and Rogers laughing. He wanted to know things that could not simply be found in museums or books. Hydra could have some of those answers. And the Soldier would eagerly take them while he burned Hydra to ground.

-

It was after Kiev, that he discovered that he was being followed. The Soldier made a point to never linger long enough to figure out if it was Hydra or not. If Hydra was on his trail, they never seemed to learn which base he was going to strike next. That is until he had liberated files about his past and the bombs had detonated in his wake. But he made sure to keep three steps ahead and wield his freedom like a knife in Hydra’s back.

-

Despite his carefulness, Hydra managed to capture him outside of Rexford, Montana. He had gone in thinking the building (it looked like some kind of private lodge to the public) was understaffed. It had been listed as a small R&D lab in the Hydra files.

It was like they had been waiting for him.

It had changed from being a small lab to an underground facility. More importantly, they now had equipment for handling and containing the Winter Soldier.

Despite his determination for escape, the Soldier found himself back in the chair with restraints locking him in place. He snarled his anger at his captors as they scurried around him. Guards kept their guns up with him in their sights. Their fingers rested on the triggers, ready at a second’s notice.

But the Soldier kept ahold of his confidence as he drank in his captors’ disorganization. Listened to the arguing that took place amongst themselves with interest. Their desperation could be used to his advantage, but it was a potential danger to be continuously evaluated. After all, predators didn’t do well with being cornered.

“We need a new way to control the Asset. We have to be sure that control of him is maintained this time,” the Soldier heard in the next room over. He could see a few people gathered from its open doorway.

“Just how do ya suppose we do that, huh? It’s freakin suicide to have him here!” another growled, “Did you not hear of his vengeance on Hydra since going rouge in DC?”

The voices dissolved into arguments before the first voice replied and thus quietening the others.

“What about the artifact A7R55V23, the experiments were troubling but they worked,” the first voice said.

“Messin’ with that thing is like playin with a freakin nuclear bomb,” the second exclaimed. Others murmured their agreement.

“The results were more thorough as I recall correctly. Lasting,” another voice had joined in. Calm, sinister.

“So fuckin desperate times call for fuckin desperate measures, is that it!? Forget the damned Asset, that thing will kill us all.”

“Heads are being cut faster than they can grow back. The risks are acknowledged but we cannot afford to play it safe any longer. Getting the Asset back under control is critical,” raved another. There were no protests this time.

“Then it is settled.”

The Soldier had begun shivering with fear. He had no idea about what they were speaking of.  Whispers of twisted experiments conducted at this faculty had been what brought him here in the first place. He had figured after taking out this place, he’d leave the last remains of Hydra for the Captain and his new team to take out. He’d have no idea what he’d do after and now it looked like he wouldn’t get to decide.

-

It started out like they were going to wipe him, clasps all along his arms to keep him in place and a mouth guard forced between his teeth. He kept up his resistance until a lab-coat jabbed him with a needle.

The world got hazy and sluggish after that. Yet his will to fight was still strong even with his head feeling too heavy to hold up anymore.

When another lab-coat brought a box into the room, a sense of dread and unease washed over the room.

The Soldier was drenched in sweat and his arm became slick with bloody cuts from his constant thrashing. The mouth guard stifled his threats as the box was opened to reveal something like a pale green stone that had a sickly unnatural glow.

It was lifted from the box by a pair of bi-scripts and the sight of it sent shivers down his back. It called up similar flashes of unnatural blue light and the sounds of a factory echoed in his head.

He willed the restraints to snap. His flesh arm was bloody from his efforts. The world had lost some of its sluggishness now. Fear and adrenaline burning the effects of the drugs away.

“You will obey us, Soldier,” ordered the scientist holding the glowing stone.

“No!” he tried to shout through the mouth guard. It was muffled but comprehendible and overall ignored.

The Soldier glared at the stone; its aura was ominous, otherworldly. They would not win again. He wouldn’t allow them to wipe him. He had regained little but the idea of losing that bit hurt more than the old electricity of the chair.

He mentally grabbed onto the fragments of Bucky Barnes memories, the faded sense of self that he had just started to puzzle back together.

My birth name is James Buchanan Barnes.

I was a sergeant in the 107th during World War II.

I have been best friends since childhood with Steve Rogers.

He recited them over and over again like a dying man’s prayer.

The stone was like an ember against the top of his sternum. The feeling of fire spread from his chest to his head before it festered throughout the rest of his body.

His screams were barely muffled. Eyes tightly closed. Barely able to drag air into his lungs.

It left no cell untouched. His whole being was on fire. Even felt like his damaged soul was burning.

No! He was James Buchanan Barnes. He was Steve Rogers’s childhood friend. Rogers had called him Bucky. He had once had younger sisters. He had once had parents.

So much pain, a blinding light. He felt like he was being torn to pieces.

Remember Steve Rogers! Remember the scrawny kid who never backed down from a fight.

Remember Bucky Barnes of Brooklyn and his family.

Don’t let them win again. Steve is alive. Steve needs him? He must, he always has.

He must keep fighting. He must remember. He must protect.

Fight.

Remember.

Protect. 

The burning stopped abruptly and the restraints were gone but it didn’t matter. He was barely conscious. His eyes too heavy to open.

He vaguely heard sounds of alarm, explosions, and fighting.

He couldn’t move to fight the hands that pulled him from the chair. He felt his limp body being eased onto someone’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

Maybe it’s Steve, he faintly wondered. Maybe Rogers had found him like he had found him in Italy. He didn’t even get to process that he could still remember Rogers before passing out.

Chapter Text

The Soldier woke up lying on his back on some kind of soft surface with the smell of mildew and dust hanging in the air. He slowly moved his flesh hand to feel what he was lying on. It felt like wool blankets.

The Soldier-No, he had a name. It had almost been taken away again. Sure, he would never really be the man who fell from the train again but people changed and at the core, he was Bucky Barnes. He wasn’t ready to think of himself of as Bucky just yet.

Barnes –that would do for now- didn’t feel anything tying him down and his metal arm was somehow in working condition again. He kept his breathing steady as he focused next on what he could hear.

He heard at least two other people, their breathing steady and even like they were asleep.  He slowly cracked open his eyes to see the ceiling of a cabin and turned his head towards them. On the other side of the room, a young woman lying on a couch. Nearby, a young man was sitting on some cushions, with his back resting against the couch. Both were asleep.

The room looked like it was a part of an old hunting cabin, large with a large stone fireplace that held a small crackling fire. The section by it had a sink and an old red and white cooler being used as a fridge of sorts. There were some doors that could be doors to the outside, one at the front and one at the back. The windows leaked in late autumn air though cracked frames, a soft eerie whistling. The view he could get of the outside revealed no clues of where he was except a thick forest. The window to his right only showed treetops and an overcast sky.

Barnes appeared to be lying in the only bed in the cabin. He slowly sat up and checked himself over for any injuries. He kept to small quiet movements as to not wake the other occupants. He was still dressed his black tactical pants and a simple black shirt (that hadn’t been on him when he had passed out). His boots rested beside the bed on the floor with his socks lain atop them.

Barnes could tell he had been out at least and day and a half due to the level of healing on his arm where the restraints had cut into him. He had a few new scratches and small burns but his fast healing ability would take care of them within a day or so.  There was a small tattoo-like mark at the base of his collarbone where that stone had touched his skin. It was dark green and some kind of intricate design about the size of a quarter. Otherwise, Barnes was fine.

Now to focus on the strangers. There was no way to identify them immediately as Hydra. The woman had long braided chestnut hair and a wool blanket over her. Her uncover hand rested on a handgun.

The man had short hair and the same shade as the woman’s braided locks. He was dressed differently, white collared shirt with suspenders, a blanket over his legs. A sniper rifle also rested across his lap. Even in the dim light, he could it was a World War II era firearm.

Barnes flexed his left arm, causing the metal panels to shift and click as they recalibrated. These people must have some clue to who he was. Even Hydra rookies knew the legends of the Winter Soldier and knew to always to keep one eye open around him.

Even after the D.C. incident, Barnes was sure his reputation had spread. The metal arm was a dead giveaway, but here he was. Untied and, after a quick search for knives in his boot, armed. His old handlers had always known about the knives in concealed in his boot. These people were probably not Hydra but still to be considered threats.

He pulled on his socks and boots. And when he looked up after he finished lacing up the first boot, he froze with the tips of his flesh fingers on the handle of one of his hidden blades.

The woman was sitting up and had the handgun pointed at Barnes. Her expression fierce but her index finger lay straight along the barrel of the gun versus on the trigger. She had a blue coat that had a patch of a white wing on the left bicep. The man was still asleep, the rifle slack in his hands.

“What’s your name?” she asked, “and why do you look exactly like Mister Brooklyn here except with longer hair and a robot arm?”

Barnes frowned and glanced at the now waking man; a man who looked exactly like the images of Bucky Barnes in the museum. The man looked tired, dark rings under his slate-blue eyes, and thin. Yet he didn’t have the presence of a soldier who has seen battle unlike the woman, though he looked to be in his late-twenties like the woman and Barnes (at least before he fell from the train). The rifle looked out of place in his clumsy hands.  

The woman looked a bit healthier but weary. As she stood, Barnes sat up straight, pulling the knife out of his boot in a clear warning. That is until Barnes realized she was dressed exactly like Howling Commando Bucky Barnes. Blue coat, brown pants, and army boots; the rifle must have been hers to start with. And studying her facial features, she looked similar to the pictures of his younger sisters he had once seen in the museum. But the eyes, his sisters had had brown eyes while this woman had eyes like the man and himself.

The knife in his flesh hand slipped from his fingers to clatter to the floor. What the hell had that stone done?

“My thoughts exactly, pal,” muttered the man as he moved to sit upon the couch. With the rifle still in hand, he continued, “And take it easy, doll, I don’t think the guns are necessary anymore. I think it’s safe ta say that his name's Bucky Barnes, too.”

The woman turned and glared at the man, but holstered her pistol with clear reluctance.

Barnes felt a bit dizzy. He steadied himself with his right hand and placed the cool metal of his left forearm over his forehead. It barely gave him any relief.

Can you feel dizzy in a dream, he wondered.

The others stared at the arm before the woman spoke up again.

“Well, pal, is your name Bucky Barnes?” 

“He told me it was,” Barnes replied absentmindedly, more focused how rough his own voice was compared to theirs.

“Who?” asked the woman, a bit impatient. She jerked a thumb at the man, “him?”

“No, Captain America.”

“Captain who?” frowned the man.

“Steph’s a fella here too?” the woman puzzled out before sharply turning her attention on the man, “Wait, what you mean whose Captain America? Do ya know a Stephanie Rogers?”

“I kno-knew a Steve Rogers. He wasn’t a Captain,” the man answered solemnly, scowling at her patronizing tone.

“Knew?” She looked pale now, her voice a soft whisper. A bad feeling rose up in his chest.

“He died a few years ago. June 1943. Pneumonia.”

That couldn't be. Rogers was alive. Right? Guilt sunk deep in his gut as Barnes thought of D.C. At least he had been and Barnes had not heard anything since then to say otherwise. Plus with the serum-

The woman seemed to agree, “That’s not possible; the serum means she can’t get sick anymore. I saw her just last night, the twenty-fifth of February 1945, as healthy and strong as an ox.”

“Serum?” he couldn’t understand the look on the man’s face, devastation, longing? Did Barnes dare wonder what a world without Steve would be like?

Barnes decided to answer, to end the dark path his thoughts were taking, “The super-soldier serum. It was developed by Doctor Abraham Erskine, a way for the allies to win the Second World War. To defeat Hydra.”

“That’s the place we blew up yesterday, remember?” the woman added, she looked deep in thought.

Speaking of which, how had we all escaped and where the hell were we now? Barnes thought.

“Yeah but who the hell were they? I don’t remember any mention of them during the War?”

The woman answered, “They were a part of the Nazis until their leader decided he didn’t want stand with Hitler anymore. How can he not know that?” the last part was directed to Barnes.

Barnes shrugged; personally, he was still trying to figure out if they were real.

It was quiet; the woman looked deep in thought while the man just looked lost.

“Mr. Brooklyn, what’s the date in your world? 1945?” the woman asked after a moment.

The man nodded, “It’s February 26, 1945.”

“Same as me. What about you, Mr. Robot? 1945 too?”

Barnes scowled at the nickname before answering, “No, it’s 2015.”  At least last time he checked and he was pretty confidence he hadn’t been put in cryo since before D.C.

The man and woman stilled, staring wide eyed at him.

“Then, then when were you born?” asked the man, disbelief riddled across his face. The woman looked like her legs were going to give out from under her.

“The museum said 1917,” he replied, his tone a bit nonchalant. He wondered if the man at least was going to pass out.

“Muse-” started the man before the woman spoke over him.

“That’s not freakin possible! You should be in your 90’s. None of this should be possible. Ever since Italy none of the world has made sense.” She was pacing now, her wariness of Barnes long forgotten.

Barnes slipped his fallen knife back into his boot and finished tying the second. They weren’t threats but maybe the woman could help him remember his past before the Fall since she seemed to share a similar timeline to his own.

“What happened to you?” the man asked softly, “why do you say things like you don’t remember?”

Barnes looked down, his gaze falling on his left hand. He clenched it into a fist, making the panels in the forearm shift and click.

“I fell,” the woman paused in her pacing, listening to him, “I fell from a train during a mission near the end of the war.  Rogers and Commandos thought I was dead. I barely remember it. Just the snow, pain, and bloodied ice. It’s where I lost my arm. The Russians found and locked me up until I found myself back on Zola’s table. Hydra remade me with Zola’s help. I became their asset, the Winter Soldier. When I wasn’t sent on missions, I was frozen.

“In D.C., Captain America became my next mission. But… he called me Bucky… realized I knew him. Hydra didn’t like that. They tried to take my memories of him. But when they sent me to eliminate him, Rogers helped me remember again. I haven’t seen him since.” He didn’t look up to see the man and woman’s twin looks of horror while he talked. There was a long silence after he finished his story.

“But how have you not gone back to him? Do you know where Steve is?” asked the man, Barnes didn’t understand his expression. Maybe anger, sadness. It would make sense; the man's Steve Roger was dead.

But the man couldn't understand. Barnes was still putting pieces back together in his head. Even if he stopped burning Hydra to the ground, he still had to finish that.

Barnes shook his head, “I don’t know where Steve is. I’ve been hunting Hydra. I think he followed me for a while but either way I couldn’t face him. Can’t. I barely remember anything. I needed answers first. Then I was recaptured. The last thing I remember is that freaky stone.” He almost touched the spot where the dark green mark lied beneath his shirt. It was then that Barnes noticed the man had a similar inky mark, barely showing above the vee of his collared shirt. He wondered if the woman had one too.

The man stood then, “Then we find him.” He was full of determination now. His hands in fists at his sides.

The woman nodded in agreement, “And that stone. It’s the key to all of this. He could help us find it and get it.”

The man frowned at that but otherwise did not comment.

“Now, what to call ourselves? We can’t all be Bucky. I doubt you fellas like being called Mr. Brooklyn and Mr. Robot. I wouldn’t.”

The man spoke up then, “I don’t go by Bucky anymore. I’ll take James.”

“Then I’ll go with Jamie, yuck,” Jamie made a face at the name.

Then James and Jamie looked to Barnes, “Bucky,” they said at the same time before sharing an amused look.

Barnes frowned, not feeling ready to use that name. He didn't voice this though; he didn't feel like knowing what they would think of that thought.

“Okay Bucky, where the hell are we and how can we find Steph- I mean Steve?”

“The facility we were at was located in the northwest corner of Montana near the Canadian border. We can’t stay here if any of that Hydra base survived. It’s too close if you both managed to walk here. They always come looking for me. We need to leave the area as soon as possible.” Barnes was checking his pockets as he spoke.

Hydra had done a poor job of securing him when they had captured him. He still had the knives hidden in his boots and a few other items in the deep pockets of his pants including a cell phone. However, in checking the cell, it was glitching badly. It no longer had the ability to make and take calls. He guessed the freaky magic hadn’t mixed well with it. The cell could only take pictures now. He hoped the room key to the motel room still worked.

“And then what?” asked Jamie, slinging the rifle over her shoulder and rechecked her holstered pistol.

“Once we are far enough away, we can use a library to find him.” And get a new cell, maybe one of those fancy ones with lots of apps and internet even though a computer would be much simpler to use.

“How would a library help?” asked James, clearly skeptical.

“The internet,” Barnes replied with a shrug, causing the panels of the metal arm resettle.

-

Once it was decided that they would leave, they stripped the cabin for supplies. Blankets, coats, a duffle bag, a few can of food, a jar of strawberry jam. An old truck covered in leaves and branches still had a quarter tank of gas. Barnes hotwired it, bringing it to life while the others packed.

The first step was to find the Toyota Barnes had left hidden before he’d borrowed another to get the Rexford facility. It was hidden at a motel he’d stayed in a few days before. Once there, Barnes had Jamie and James change into something less conspicuous before they transferred their supplies from the truck to the Toyota.

James was given Barnes’ spare boots with a newer pair of socks along with a pair of dark-colored shirt and jeans that were both loose on his thinner frame. He had frowned and commented at the lack of color before Jamie threw a green coat from the hunting cabin at his face. Barnes put a navy baseball hat on him with a little smirk after James had put on the coat.

Jamie exchanged her own coat for a maroon one they had found at the cabin. She also changed into a pair of blue jeans as well as one of Barnes’ only t-shirts. He had got it at the museum and it was still the only shirt he had seen with the Howling Commandos on it. He never regretted buying it, but never wore it since the short sleeves provided too much exposure for his metal arm. Jamie had smiled at it before she had gone into the bathroom to shower and change.

After Barnes changed into his last pair of clean clothes, he made a list of things they would need. Especially, he noted, clothes. Walmart was going to have to be the next stop before a library. After a quick search on the car’s GPS – James watching with open curiosity beside him – he discovered the nearest Walmart was in Kalispell, more than an hour’s drive from Rexford.

“Walmart?” Jamie asked, towel drying her long tresses. Her black hair-ribbon tied round on her left wrist.

“Yeah, it has almost everything. Food, clothes, first aid, sport supplies.” Barnes remembered his first time in one back on the Eastern coast; it had overwhelmed him. He had made it a habit to shop for supplies during the night afterwards when the least amounts of people were around.

“Food sounds good,” she commented offhandedly. They had finished the canned food on the way to the motel.

Barnes introduced them to Subway before they headed south on 39 towards Kalispell.

-

Kalispell was large and modern compared to Rexford. It had a community college, thus a large variety of food places and places to stay.

“No flying cars; what kind of future is this?” Jamie was the most talkative of them and oddly, James was the least, his replies often nonverbal. His focus had been on the passing trees and fields during most of the trip.

Barnes shrugged as he parked the Toyota in the Walmart parking lot. Personally, he figured it was better without considering how some people drove regular cars. He imagined great chaos if there were flying ones around too.

When they were walking to the store, he could faintly remember a hovering shiny red car and the sense of wonderment at the sight of it.

Just inside the entrance, the others halted with twin looks of amazement on their faces. Bucky stopped short, nearly running into them, before he sighed and nudged them along.

Just wait until they notice the prices, he thought after he quietly reminded them to keep their heads down because of the cameras.

Jamie had to have help with undergarments and as James and Barnes waited off to the side, Barnes was sure this was the first time he had blushed in 70 years.

They also were overwhelmed by all the choices. They had opted to explore a bit after grabbing what they needed.

“How are you used to this? There are nearly over 50 options for breakfast cereal!” Jamie quietly hissed, only to be frowned at by an older couple as they passed by.

Barnes smiled faintly; it had become one of his favorite things after 70 years of no choices.

“Just try a new one every time.”

-

At the local library, Barnes went in alone while Jamie and James sorted out their purchases in the car. Safer that way. Less noticeable too. Especially if Hydra had an eye out for all three of them.

He swiped a card that was left abandoned out a desk and logged on a computer. First, he pulled up Google and typed in “Captain America.”

The search results ranged from news posts and images from WWII to the Battle in DC, advisements about books and museum exhibits. A news post about the airing of a documentary about Captain America was going to be premiering in a week drew his attention before he typed “Captain America location,” in next.

Barnes got a variety of hits for Rogers living in DC before his involvement in DC, some news-blogs discussing Tony Stark renaming the tower for the Avengers and the tower becoming the new headquarters for the superhero group. There were also websites that spoke of Rogers growing up in Brooklyn.

The Avenger Tower was a sound bet. It wouldn’t be a total waste to try there first, either since there was bound to be someone there who knew where to find him.

Just as Barnes was about to clear the web history and log out; he heard an amused voice ask, “You a Cap fan too?”

Standing beside him was a young woman with long, braided, honey-blonde hair and red-and-purple plaid scarf around her neck. Over her right shoulder was a small gray backpack with jangling Avengers keychains. She had a bright friendly smile and a pink mechanical pencil tucked behind one ear.

“Um, I-” Barnes stuttered, silently slipping his metal hand into his jacket pocket.

“No worries. I won’t judge, he’s very pretty. Besides I’ve done the same, sure it’s a bit odd but it’s nice to know he’s okay after the whole Hydra resurrection thing. Ya know?” she said, shifting the stack of books about black bears in her arms.

Barnes could only nod dumbly, running a list of scenarios in his head while he decided if she was a threat or not. Hydra was unassuming like that.

“Anyways, I recommend looking up #AvengersNews on Twitter or Tumblr, though last I heard, Captain America and Hawkeye were helping the new Avenger, Falcon, moved from DC to New York last month.”

So New York it was, the mostly likely place to head next. That is after he made sure to fact-check her information.

“Thank you,” he said as he pulled up Twitter and typed in the hashtag.

“Anything to help a fellow fan,” she smiled before heading toward the checkout desk, her keychains jangling as she walked away.

With a quick search, Barnes confirmed her information and found the name of the new Avenger, Sam Wilson – whom he recognized from the incident in DC. He winced as he remembered tearing one of the flyer’s metal wings off. According to Twitter and a little hacking into the DC VA where Wilson had worked, the flyer had recently transferred to a New York City VA located close to the Avengers Tower. He wrote both addresses for the Tower and the New York VA on a scrap of paper.

Satisfied, he erased the internet history with a minute left of time allowed on the computer and headed out, hat pulled low and metal hand clutched around the paper in his pocket.

-

Jamie took a turn at driving when they left Kalispell. She only had to have a little instruction of how to drive the modern car. She adapted easily enough having had experience of driving a few trucks in Europe and her father showing her how to drive the family car when she had still been living with them.

(James had made the comment that his father had done so as well and Barnes had tried to call up the memory without success. It had left him in a bit of a sour mood and he’d almost snapped at James when the man had asked Jamie if she had taught her Steve how to drive too. In truth, Barnes was envious of the two and their wealth of memories. But Barnes had kept his mouth closed and had listened to the two compare stories during drive.)

Currently James was sleeping restlessly in the back, using the pile of duffle bags and a jacket as a pillow. Barnes was acting as the navigator, quietly calculating the route for New York. The quickest route would be too predictable. They could head more steadily south rather than east. If they spent at least twelve hours driving, they could spend the other twelve on sleeping, getting food, refueling the car, etc. It would take a couple days, maybe four at least.

-

At Helena, they stopped for food. As they sat, in the parking lot of a Wendy’s, Barnes explained their route on the collection of paper maps he had grabbed along his travels.

“Then from Rapid City to Sioux Falls, then south to Kansas City,” he traced along the marked highways on the map with a finger, “then eastward through St. Louis, Terre Haute, Dayton, Harrisburg, until finally New York. There’s a high chance of Hydra still finding us but we can’t waste time. In Kansas City, we’ll need to ditch the car and get a new one before heading east. We all take turns driving and since we’ll be sticking with highways, it will be a straightforward route. Also there’s an old Hydra safe house just before Kansas City that we’ll need stop at.”

“Isn’t that asking for trouble?” Jamie asked with a raised eyebrow as she looked up from studying a map of Missouri.

“Don’t have a choice,” Barnes answered, “Going to be out of cash soon and-”

“And everything in the future is costly,” finished James in a mutter. He was finishing off the last of his meal; he’d traded his French fries for Jamie’s onion rings with the claim that the fries were too salty.

Just wait until he tries McDonalds’ fries, Barnes thought with a little amusement.

“That and we need to find any news of what happened to that stupid space rock,” he finished.

“Doesn’t Rogers’ new team have better resources for that?” Jamie asked as she stole back a few onion rings from James when it was his turn to study the maps. She smirked when Barnes rolled his eyes at her antics.

The maps crinkled as James examined the map of Missouri and Indiana.

It would be risky looting the old safe house but with planning it could be done. Now he just had to decide if he should take this little mission by himself or with James and Jamie too.

Barnes glanced at his metal hand as he absentmindedly tapped his fingers on his knee and decided to leave the other two someplace secure. Hydra didn’t need a chance to gain more winter soldiers.