May 6th, 2016
Bucharest, Romania
Kasey's first thought as she watches the news is, I can't believe this is happening.
The second, almost bulldozing over the first one is, I should have expected this.
And of course she should have. She should've expected this. She should've expected that one day Hydra would get tired of chasing them and would do something drastic.
She didn't expect it to be this big, but, well. Hydra's not exactly known to be subtle.
And blowing up a UN conference? That's about as big as it gets.
"This is crazy," Elizabeth mutters from beside her, and Kasey finds herself nodding, even as one of her fingers punctures a hole in the dishrag she clutches in an ironclad grip. They flash a picture of the supposed UN bomber, and a strange buzzing fills her ears.
She should've expected this. She feels helpless, as if there's some way she could prevent it. The reporter explains that they're looking for James Buchanan Barnes, the infamous Hydra assassin, now responsible for the death of eleven high-ranking officials.
Because of course they're looking for Bucky, regardless of the fact that he wasn't even in the damn country when it happened.
The two of them have been on the run for over a year. That's far too long in Hydra's book.
It's kind of the perfect thing to frame him for, Kasey's brain supplies. This can't be ignored.
A tingling races over her skin as if she's been set on fire; she practically shakes in anticipation, and she knows her own body's signals well enough to that it's preparing her for something that she can't possibly predict. From her other side, another waiter they call Walton places a hand on Kasey's shoulder. "You alright, Angelica? You've gone a bit pale. Do you want to sit down?"
Elizabeth turns, concern lacing her tone as she says, "Do you have family in Vienna, Angie? I'm sure they're alright. Take a seat. I'll get you some water."
Walton's grip on her shoulder tightens in a way Kasey knows is meant to be comforting, but warning bells go off in her head. Don't let him touch you. Don't let him touch you. She shrugs from his grip and turns until she faces him.
Another one of her fingers punctures the dishrag, a soft thip that only she seems to hear. Kasey knows, distantly, like someone shouting from a rooftop, that she's going into full-on panic mode.
I should've expected this.
Why didn't I expect this?
"Move," Kasey says to Walton, who now stands between her and the door, and Kasey feels as if he's doing it on purpose, as if he's trapping her here. He doesn't hear her, and she can't look him directly in the eyes, but instead stares intently at his chin. "Move," she says again, her voice shaky, like her how your legs wobble when you stand on an uneven bridge. She pictures herself as a caged animal, pacing back and forth.
Move, Kasey, move!
Walton frowns at the TV screen, a little crease appearing between his brows. Elizabeth disappears into the back to get her some water, but Kasey suspects that's not the case at all. Bucky's been to the diner before. What if they recognized him from the picture on screen, and devised this plan over her head while she wasn't looking? Elizabeth's probably in the back right now, calling the number they'd seen on screen.
Kasey can almost hear her. "Hi, yes, I'd like to report a sighting of the man on the TV? Yeah, uh, he's been into our diner a few times and is the roommate of one of the waitresses here. Yeah, she's still here. My friend is keeping her occupied. Oh, she's extremely lethal and dangerous and we should call the police immediately? I'm on it, sir."
Kasey needs to leave. Now. She needs to leave the diner, leave town, leave the whole damn country too. Hydra will flock here in seconds if they catch a whiff of either of them being in town. Much less the two of them together. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel.
"Move," Kasey manages, too soft to be heard. Jittering panic sparks her limbs to life, itching to fight her way out of this situation. "Please, Walton."
Because, she wants to add, in a few seconds, I'm not going to be able to control what I do. So please, Walton, move out of the way before you get hurt.
Walton's eyes have drifted back to the screen, where the news report on screen is still playing, reciting the same information over and over.
" — a bomb hidden in a news van rips through the UN building in Vienna. More than seventy people have been injured, at least twelve are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect identified as the James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, the infamous Hydra agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations. Anyone with information regarding the whereabouts of the man identified in the picture on screen, please call — "
The words slam through her repeatedly, humming loudly in her ears.
Twelve dead.
Twelve dead.
Twelve dead.
"I know this probably won't help," Walton begins, and Kasey can look at him fully in the face while his gaze is trained elsewhere, "but look at the guy they're looking for. Look at him, Angelica. Do you know who that looks like?"
Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it . . .
"It kinda looks like your roommate. The one with the hair and the scruff." He laughs, and Kasey's hands curl into fists. Thank God he still isn't looking her way and can't see her face morph into deadly calm. Her spine tightens, and she all her muscles tense. If she was a cat, all her hair would be raised. Don't say it, Walton, please. "Duh. You only have the one roommate. What's his name, again? Isn't it — "
Kasey's fist clocks him right under the jaw. Walton goes stumbling back from the force, hands flying up in front of him protectively. The punch is hard enough to break the skin of her knuckles, and she blinks in surprise, shocked she didn't knock Walton out cold. Maybe she's rusty.
Someone shrieks from behind her, a woman's shriek, and the sound of glass smashing against linoleum.
I warned you.
She's caught. If they didn't know, they certainly know now.
Kasey stalks forward, eyes trained on the door, her breathing coming in and out through her nose, nice and even. Controlled.
I am in control. I am in control. I am in —
"What the hell, Angelica?" Walton demands from the floor, sounding as if he's talking with a mouth full of cotton. Kasey grabs her jacket from the coat rack and discards her apron on the floor in one fluid movement. "Holy — holy shit. That's him, isn't it? Elizabeth! Elizabeth, that's actually — "
The door to the diner shuts with finality, cutting Walton off for the second time in the same matter of minutes. Outside in the fresh air, away from the chaos of the diner, Kasey sucks in a deep breath before marching off determinedly down the sidewalk.
Only once she's two blocks closer to her apartment building does Kasey allow herself to stop. She presses a shaky hand to her face, giving herself a few seconds to properly panic. She knows what a huge deal bombing the UN is. She knows what kind of people it's going to put on their trail. Everyone in the world is going to be looking for Bucky — and soon enough, especially after the stunt she just pulled, they're going to be looking for her, too.
Okay. Okay. She can only focus on one thing at a time. First, find Bucky. Second, get her stuff from the apartment. Third, flee the country. They've gotta stick to non-English speaking countries, but it'd also be nice to get off the continent, maybe head somewhere that's less likely to turn heads. Maybe somewhere warm with lots of beaches, but that's just personal preference.
Though, Kasey thinks, a certain metal arm will stand out just as much as wearing jackets in one hundred degree weather, so maybe a place with actual changing seasons would be nice.
What about China? Or one of the many Asian countries where a blonde teenage girl and a middle-aged man with a metal prosthetic will stick out like sore thumbs?
God. Kasey can feel a headache coming on.
Well, one step at a time. She needs to find Bucky.
She doesn't know where he'd be at this time of day when she's usually working, but she hopes he'll be back at the apartment, not out spending her hard-earned money on something stupid, like . . . like . . .
Plums.
On that thought, Kasey pivots on her heel and crosses the street immediately, causing several cars to blare their horns and swerve to avoid hitting her. Kasey waves them off with a hand. She has no time for politeness.
Kasey passes by Bucky's favorite fruit stand briskly but catches no sight of him. Which is fine, truly, because she's at least put herself on the path he would've taken if he'd come this way. It's slightly out of the way of the route she takes to get home, but now she's more likely to come across him.
And she does.
She spots him almost immediately from where he stands on the corner of an intersection, one hand clutching a plastic bag filled with plums. Kasey had bought some once while they were in Maine and Bucky hadn't gotten enough since. But even as plum-crazy as he is, the sight of Bucky in one piece and not tearing his roots out at the new development in the crazy story of their lives is enough to make Kasey relax.
He probably doesn't even know yet, Kasey realizes.
She approaches him quickly, trying not to make a scene, cutting through the throngs of people like a motorboat heading against the current.
An ambulance passes by, sirens wailing, and Kasey tracks it with her eyes until it passes.
What if it's going to the diner to care for Walton? What if you broke his jaw, Kasey? Gave him face paralysis? What if he's going to be disfigured forever just because you can't stay in control?
I was in control.
She ignores her brain and continues towards Bucky, still a hundred feet away. He has a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, and wears a pair of gloves even though the weather outside is, at a stretch, chilly. He stares at the man behind the newspaper stand across the street so intently he hasn't even noticed the crosswalk is completely clear. Specifically, he stares at the man behind the counter, who looks back with vague interest. Then the man's eyes widen and he bolts, shoving through the crowds of market people. She watches Bucky track the man with his eyes as he flees like he's being chased by a bear.
Not good, Kasey's brain interjects.
Shut up, she hisses back.
She cuts across the street again as Bucky beelines to the newspaper stand, one gloved hand reaching out to pick up the latest issue. There are more displayed on a rack next to him and Kasey catches a glimpse of the headline.
Her heart sinks.
They've already printed newspapers covering the bombing. The picture taken from a security camera catches Bucky's face fully on the grainy screen, and the headline declares the Winter Soldier responsible. None of the 'suspect' wording that the news reporter had granted him. Bucky is guilty, without a shadow of a doubt.
Kasey stops just over his shoulder, waiting until Bucky notices her before speaking. She racks her brain for something to say, but can't come up with anything that would help. What do you say in a situation like this?
"I'm thinking Istanbul," says Kasey, and Bucky's gaze flickers over to her as he throws the newspaper down in disgust. "You know. Next. I've heard they've got beautiful . . . uh — you know, beautiful . . ." She searches for anything in her brain she knows about Istanbul.
"Is that what we're looking for now, huh? Beauty?" he asks. His jaw clenches, and a small crease appears between his eyebrows. His tone alone is enough to make Kasey's skin itch. But they've dealt with this a hundred times before, and they can do it again now.
We can. I know we can.
Kasey shrugs. "Might as well go somewhere with perks, right?"
Bucky shakes his head, looking like he's trying not to smile, and jerks his head in the very general direction of their apartment building. "Come on."
Kasey follows, walking alongside him until their footsteps synchronize. They exit the market in silence.
But over and over in her head, like a video stuck on a loop, is Walton's head jerking back from the impact of her fist. Slowly, like a bubble growing in her chest, Kasey begins to feel as if she's keeping a secret from Bucky by not telling him.
She blurts, "Some guy at the diner put the pieces together. I'm sorry, Sarge."
"Doesn't matter — I mean, it's fine," says Bucky, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "The guy at the newspaper stand definitely made me. They're trying to get the whole world on our asses."
Kasey bites the inside of her cheek. "How did this happen?" she asks, even though they both have a good idea on the what, where, why, and who.
"You know it wasn't me in Vienna," Bucky replies, his head looking kinda like an owl's as he constantly scans the people around them. Kasey fidgets, feeling as anxious as he looks. Knowing that Hydra is closing in on them makes the whole world seem so . . . small. "Hydra's gone public after D.C.," he continues. "Everything they have is out there for anyone to see. Maybe they think the only way to get to us is to call the whole world to attention, too."
"Why just you? On the news, I mean?"
Bucky glances towards her, trying to smile. "No offense to you, Kase, but I'm pretty infamous. And New York thinks you're dead."
"Hydra doesn't care."
"They'd have a harder time convincing the world some random teenager from the '90's has come back to life rather than pinning this all on me."
She presses her lips together. "Fair enough."
Kasey racks her head once more for a plan of attack — or, more accurately, one of retreat — but all she can think about is how much she really doesn't want to leave. They've been in Bucharest the longest of any of their other spots — Ukraine, Slovakia, Hungary — basically any European country where the two of them can easily blend in. Kasey isn't sure if continuing with that pattern would be a mistake. But going anywhere warm would make it impossible for Bucky to do anything. They needed to go somewhere perpetually cold, and that meant —
The two seem to reach the same conclusion at the same time, and Kasey looks over at him to see that he's already watching her with his eyebrows furrowed.
"So Russia, then?"
"Yeah. Sorry, kid."
Even as Kasey's throat closes up, she manages, "Don't be. As long as it's not there, you know?"
Up ahead, their apartment building looms into view. It looms over every other building in its immediate vicinity, the closest being a parking garage nearby. Their apartment sits on the top level. She'd thought it was a smart move at the time, since the rent was cheaper because literally no one wanted a place up that high — and how bad could all those stairs be on super-powered knees? — but now it looks so . . . isolated. One way up, one way down. Like Rapunzel's castle.
Her feet stop moving without Kasey asking them to.
"Do we really need to go back?" she asks before she can clamp down on the words. She doesn't like the way her voice edges on pleading, making her sound pubescent, but going back to the apartment seems too risky. Already, her stomach sinks in a way that tells her to get on the next bus and never look back.
Bucky glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "You don't have to," he says. "I just need my bag."
"Maybe we don't have to go at all," she replies. "What's in that bag? Money and a change of clothes? We can make do." When Bucky doesn't reply, she insists, "We can."
"How about you meet me at the bus station? The one on fifth?"
Kasey catches on to what he doesn't say, something she can only do with him. When it comes to anybody else, she has the brain of a two-year-old when it comes to reading between the lines.
"We're not splitting up," she insists.
"Look," Bucky says with a sigh, sticking an arm out and forcing her to turn and look at him. A little worry line appears between his brows, and it makes Kasey think that sometimes he really does look a hundred years old. "It's just . . . there's a difference between having the whole world on your ass instead of just Hydra. And you're still injured, kid."
"Barely," says Kasey, jutting out her chin. "And you know I hate it when you — "
Bucky waves her off. "Sorry. Habit. But please, Kasey, just . . . just meet me at the bus stop?"
It takes Kasey a second to place the emotion on Bucky's face — his pinched eyebrows, clenched jaw, fidgeting hands. Fear. She can see it in the way his back is tense, his eyes are narrowed, and his breath seems to catch in his chest with every inhale.
This whole situation certainly doesn't feel that much different from Hydra, not with the way that Hydra just seems to be everywhere. She knows dozens of former agents would love to put bullets in their brains or strap them to lab tables or submit them to their programming, and that they could run into any number of them at any point. Especially Kasey, who carries her whole 'unfinished experiment' label around with her like extra luggage. They must know her and Bucky are still together — otherwise, she'd be on the news too, framed for her own set of dastardly crimes.
And if whoever has the Red Book gets the urge to come after them, or already is coming after them, well . . . they'll both be screwed. And Kasey would like to be around Bucky when that happens.
"And after everything with Calloway — "
Kasey puts a hand up to stop him. The last thing she wants to think about is Calloway right now. "We're not splitting up. We're in this together, Sarge."
Bucky nods stiffly, as if his neck is made of wood, looking both relieved and not pleased with her answer. They continue walking.
Once they reach the apartment, Bucky leads them around back to the door with the flimsy lock that jimmies open easily and leads directly into the stairwell.
Kasey stares up at the winding stairs before following behind Bucky. It's a good they have super serum in their veins, or the trek would kill her knees.
It already kinda does, she thinks as she heaves herself up step by step, adrenaline flooding her veins and making the strain easier to bear.
They reach the top and Bucky opens the door to their apartment silently. He twists the doorknob with ease, and they make eye contact.
It's unlocked.
Author's Notes!
I've been working on this thing on and off for about a year, so it seems fitting I'd post the first chapter before I go see Endgame. (It'll be up on AO3 in a couple days too.)
Leave a review if you enjoyed!
