Rosalie looked at the small stand on the corner of the street, her eyes growing wide in awe. Flowers, freshly cut and in perfect bloom. There were so many colours and types, all she could think of was the memory she had of being in the garden with her mother, a memory she held so dearly. It had come to her months ago when they were driving through the French Riviera, and it was a flash of memory that Rosalie knew for certain was real.

Bucky was by her side as she slowed her pace, a bag of fresh vegetables and fruit from the market in his hands. He could see the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the flowers, even beneath the wide-brimmed hat she wore.

"You like them?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.

"They're beautiful," she nodded.

"Pick some," he encouraged. "We won't be back in a market for another two weeks,"

Rosalie stepped closer to the stand, running her fingers over the tops of the range of bouquets. Bucky liked to see her like this. They were always running, always hiding from the inevitable that was chasing them. But in small moments like this he could imagine their life together being completely normal. Picking flowers at the market, staying in the same place for longer than a week, not being afraid to be seen by anyone.

But this was the life they had to live for now. It had almost been a year without being found since they left Montana and their comfortable life alone in the mountains, and even without Hydra managing to find them and take them in again, their paranoia was always high.

Deciding on a bunch of yellow tulips, Rosalie reached out for the bouquet and brought them to her nose to smell. A smile spread across her lips at the soft and comforting aroma. Bucky leaned down against her shoulder and smelled them for himself, one hand on her hip.

"Ah, a perfect choice," the woman at the stand complimented in German.

"They are," Rosalie returned fluently before handing over the money. "Please, keep the change,"

The woman smiled back appreciatively, watching as the couple turned to merge with the large crowd on the street. Bucky's clothed metal arm wound around Rosalie's shoulders, holding her close as his other hand held a material bag full of groceries and necessities to get them to their next town. They had been in a small town outside of Munich for three weeks now and although they felt comfortable, they knew they couldn't be too sure. They couldn't let themselves stay in one place too long.

They both knew what happened to them last time they were found by Hydra. Decades of thinking the other was dead or non-existent, and it had taken too long to find each other again. Neither of them would let that happen again.

"I like it here," Rosalie told him as they walked through the crowd toward the end of the street, making their way to the apartment.

"Me too," he admit, looking around. "We'll come back,"

"I could happily live here with you," Rosalie sighed contently, looking to him with a grin.

Bucky returned the expression.

"I'd live anywhere with you," he countered, leaning down to capture her lips with his own.

Rosalie smiled into the kiss, the bouquet of tulips wrapping around his neck as she reached up to hold him close. Everyone else continued walking around them, ignoring the couple in the middle of the street who seemed to forget where they were. To everyone else, Rosalie and Bucky were nobody. They were nothing but another couple walking through the streets, too consumed in themselves.

And for the two assassins that Hydra once had a complete hold on, that's all they ever wanted to be. Nobody.


There were few things in this world that could bring Bucky a sense of peace, and a majority of those things all came from Rosalie. As she laid in his arms that night, her head against his bare chest, her fingers running over his shoulder where the skin met the metal, Bucky felt at peace. His own hand was running along her back, trailing down over her shoulder and tracing along the scars where Hydra once created a monster.

He could picture seeing the wires beneath her skin as she was strapped to the hospital bed beside him, watching her writhe in pain and terror. Those memories came to him in flashes every now and then, just as everything did with both of them.

A moment later Rosalie's body jolted upright to the sound of a garbage can being knocked over outside. Bucky sat up too, startled, watching as Rosalie walked over to the window to look out at the street.

"It's...it's just kids outside," she panted, still staring down at the street.

Even from where Bucky sat on the bed, he could see Rosalie's chest heaving.

"It's okay," he reassured.

"I didn't mean to..." she shook her head. "It sounded just like...the cell doors..."

Rosalie reached her hands up to cover her face as she sunk down to the floor, trying to calm her mind. Hydra was clawing its way back into her brain and she couldn't let it eat away at her again. These were just sounds, they weren't real.

"You're not there anymore," Bucky whispered, slowly making his way over to her. "You're here, and you're safe."

"I know," she nodded. "It just...took me back,"

Bucky frowned and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her head. He knew exactly what it was like to have your mind take you somewhere you didn't want to go, to know you're safe and yet feel so terrified.

"It's never going to go away," she told him softly. "Is it?"

Bucky could only continue to hold her, because the question she asked was one that ran around his own mind too often. It was one he couldn't answer, and one he didn't want to face anymore.


It was only two weeks later when they were in a supermarket in Switzerland that they saw a glimpse of the news broadcast. A group of heroes, superheroes, taking on a hoard of robots that were tearing down the city of Sokovia. They were called The Avengers, and there was one face among them all that struck both Bucky and Rosalie for different reasons.

To Rosalie, the man with the blonde hair who was dressed in the blue suit was known as the man from the bridge. The man she fought while serving Hydra, the man who let her fall through the destruction and into the water beneath them. To Bucky, he was so much more.

He was the man Bucky read about at the Smithsonian, the man Bucky had been researching for over a year now. The man that flashed into his mind constantly.

"That's him," Rosalie whispered, moving closer to Bucky's side as she noticed his body grow tense. "Isn't it?"

Bucky nodded.

"That's him,"

Everyone around them stopped what they were doing, eyes glued to the small screen in the corner. Everyone knew who these people were, everyone knew who that man was. And so did Bucky, at least he thought so.

"Bucky?" Rosalie asked in a panicked breath, watching Bucky fall to his knees in the middle of the apartment.

Settling down in front of him, Rosalie cupped the man's cheeks in her hands and waited for him to return from the daze he was in. As often as this happened to both of them, the worry was still there. It could be a happy memory they are reliving, it could be a detail of their life they had finally recovered, and it could be recalling the moment they brutally ended a life.

It was unpredictable, just like the rest of their lives.

"Bucky, come back," she coaxed softly. "You're okay, you're here,"

"I'm okay," he nodded, his mind snapping back to reality. "I'm fine, it wasn't...it was me, not the Soldier,"

Rosalie's lips gently turned up into smile.

"A memory?"

Bucky nodded, the same smile on his lips, his eyes closing.

"I was at home, well I think it was home," he explained. "I was eating chocolate, I was with...he was my friend. He was...he was that man, the man I...in the river,"

"The man from the museum?" Rosalie asked, her brows pulling together in concern. "You remember him?"

"The plaque said we were friends," Bucky nodded, rubbing his eyes. "I didn't know he was...we were kids, but I know it was him,"

They were both still staring at the screen when their shopping cart was nudged accidentally, shoppers beginning to get back to what they were doing. Rosalie snapped back to the moment, taking control of their cart and beginning to pull Bucky along with her, her hand wrapping around his.

"You're okay," she reminded.

Bucky nodded in response, assuring her he was fine, he wasn't panicking. But every time he saw Steve's face, he felt guilt and sadness. He will never forget how Steve looked at him when they met on the bridge. It was like he had just witnessed something horrific. The man he grew up with is not here anymore, instead there is this monster.

"They're not near us," Bucky cleared his throat. "We should be safe,"

They began slowly walking down the aisles of the supermarket once again, both listening closely to the news report. They each remembered small details about The Avengers from their time with Hydra and what they had read about over their past year of freedom, but seeing them now made them realise just how crazy it all was. At Hydra, secrecy was everything.

No one knew their name, no one knew their face. But everyone knew the Avengers. Everyone knew that man.


Months later, Rosalie felt her chest heaving for air as she returned to the apartment. It had been three weeks since they had been here, breaking their long-running two week rule. Bucharest had been good to them, it felt like home, a real home they could see themselves in for a long time. Maybe not always in the cheap, run-down apartment.

They had ran all over Europe, all over big cities and small towns, and they finally gave themselves a break.

"Rose?" Bucky called out, his croaky morning voice letting her know that he had not long woken up.

"I'm back," she returned, walking into the bedroom.

Bucky watched her at the doorway, dressed in his black hoodie, kicking off her shoes. She pulled the hood off her head, untying her hair and letting it wash over her face. It was longer than he ever remembered it now, but he couldn't talk. Every day Rosalie suggested trimming his hair, but he was too used to it.

"I thought we picked up a jacket just like that one for you back in Berlin," Bucky mused.

"I like this one," she shrugged, letting it fall off her shoulders. "It smells like you,"

Grinning in response, Bucky put one arm beneath his head as he remained laying in bed, watching Rosalie peel off each layer of clothing on her way to the shower. For three weeks his days began just the same as this one did. Rosalie went for a run, checking their surroundings on her way, as Bucky remained in the apartment. As much as they enjoyed being with one another constantly, the two hours alone in the morning was refreshing for both of them.

But they both enjoyed when she returned.

Bucky ran in the late afternoon, choosing to do the dusk check up on the neighbourhood. They could never be too normal - they were always watching their backs.

"Anything new?" Rosalie asked, poking her head out of the bathroom to look at Bucky and the notebook by his side.

He had been keeping track of his old life, gathering new information and memories every time he read over all the old newspaper clippings and reports. Most of the book was full of pictures, and most of those pictures were Steve Rogers.

Inseparable childhood friends.

Brooklyn, New York.

"Little bits," he nodded.

As the water began to run in the bathroom, Bucky finally pulled himself from the bed. With a soft stretch of his arms, he slid a shirt over his body and walked into the kitchen. They had been living off half a loaf of bread and three apples for the past few days, and Bucky was only just realising how little they had.

"Rose," he called out softly, walking into the bathroom to speak over the running shower. "I'll be back soon,"

"Where are you going?" she asked, sticking her her head out from behind the curtain.

"Getting some supplies," he told her with a smirk. "Unless you don't want breakfast?"

Rosalie shook her head at him in reply, her eyes narrowing.

"You're cooking," she replied, slipping back into the stream of water.

Chuckling as he left the room, Bucky pulled his hoodie back on and grabbed his baseball cap before heading out of the apartment.

But their normal mornings were now over. Just as they began to settle, they were going to be uprooted once more. Because as Bucky would wait by a fruit stand, thinking of what he was going to cook for himself and Rosalie given his limited cooking skills, everything would come crashing down. Every new town, every new life, every time they started somewhere else was going to be wasted.

All at the hands of a newspaper in Bucky's gaze.

One that had the words Winter Soldier plastered in the headlines, right above his photograph.


Hey guys! Back with the sequel to The Kind You Stop. Basically going to dive right into the Civil War plot line. Let me know what you all think and please leave a review with your thoughts! Thanks for reading xx