Her eyes scanned the information, as it came, running multiple programs to track the movements of the man. Bucky. That was his name. Bucky.
It had been almost three weeks since SHIELD had fallen, only a few days since she had seen him in the Captain America exhibit. He hadn't made a move, and neither had she. The most he had down was switch locations.
She presently sat in a cafe, the late daylight filtering in, turning everything a pale gold color. It was nearly empty. Everyone was pretty shaken up by the revelation of HYDRA, preferring the safety of their homes to the outdoors.
Cara leaned back, running a hand through her hair, and staring at her laptop. He was going to New York. Of course he was. He needed to find himself, and where else to go but to the beginning. She leaned back, wondering how she was going to get there before him, to have time to set up a cover. He'd be on foot, probably. He had nothing.
She had an apartment there, near Stark Tower. She had it set up as a safe house, completely off the grid. SHIELD didn't even know about it, so it wouldn't be with the secrets spilled all over the Internet. She could call in a few favors, have it furnished and livable.
Cara smiled slightly, pulling her keys to her out of her pocket and flipping them in her hand. Looks like she was going on a little road trip.
Bucky walked along the side of the road, keeping his head down. What little things he had were stuffed into a backpack on his shoulder, including his old uniform. Even though it was late in the afternoon, it was dark, storm clouds gathering overhead. A few raindrops, spatter down on him, and he wrapped his arms around his middle, shivering despite himself.
A car's headlights shone behind him, slowing down. He glanced away as the window rolled down.
"Do you need a ride?" A feminine voice said. She sounded familiar. Looking in, he saw the woman from the Smithsonian, her curly red hair falling into her green eyes. She blinked in recognition. "I know you... You were at the exhibit."
He nodded.
"Do you need a ride?"
"I'm fine," he said.
"No, you're not. It's raining, and these roads are dangerous."
"You shouldn't be picking up strange men, then."
"I can take care of myself," she said, leaning over and opening the door. "Now, please get in."
"No."
"I will follow you."
"I don't care."
"Look, just until it stops raining. Please."
He sighed. It was wet, and cold. She didn't seem too bad. If she worked for anyone, he could take her.
Sliding into the car, he put his bag at his feet, pushing himself as far against the wall as he could. She watched him carefully, and began to drive again.
"Bucky, right?" She said. He nodded.
"You're Cara." She returned the nod, keeping her eyes on the road. She was alert, though, body language tense. If he was the type of person to try something, he had no doubt she had a plan.
"Where are you going?"
"New York."
"Oh. Good. Same place." He glanced back at her. Her hands were wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, fingers tapping quietly. The silence that fell around them was not awkward, but not exactly comfortable either.
The radio quiet music, and he caught a few of the lyrics.
Love, carry me in, carry me in, held down by my words and the weight of my sins.
Fear, fear of myself, fear of myself, all these books on the shelf, yeah they're dusty again.
He turned to the window. The rain came down harder, through the dark green trees lining the side of the road. The sky nearly black. He was sure there was a memory like this. A memory where the rain poured whilea voice spoke quietly, the words caught in static. A voice that was so familiar. A voice that had called out to him on the bridge. A voice who had said the words that had triggered the flashing memories that sometimes in his head, that had triggered the remembrance of fragments of a life he didn't want to know. He didn't want to know what he lost, or what he had done.
Now, I see it's me, my splintered eye, climbing up the wall, waiting for the fall.
Tonight, I think I'll lose my mind, carry me away, carry me away.
I sit and watch the flowers grow, some day they'll die.
I sit and watch the world behold, carry me away, carry me away.
"You okay?" Cara said suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced sharply over at her. She frowned. "Your eyes got all distant." She lifted her hand off the steering wheel, waving it for emphasis.
Bucky nodded, turning out the window again. The rain had gotten worse. He could barely see out the window. Cara was leaning forward, squinting through the rain.
He saw it at the same time she did. A figure stood in the center of the road.
"Shit!" Cara said, swerving. She desperately tried to straighten it. Unfortunately, the ground was just uneven enough to make them flip, despite her best efforts. It took less than a few seconds for Bucky to collect himself. This was not his first car crash. They landed on the driver side, so Bucky was above her. He moved so that when he undid his seatbelt he wouldn't fall on her, and opened the door, letting in the torrent of rainwater. He heard Cara coughing. Glancing down, he saw her, struggling to sit up and not cut her hands on the glass.
"You okay?" He called down to her. She groaned in response. He sighed, grabbing her upper arm, and pulling her out after him. As he put her down next to him, he looked up at the road, seeing the same figure staring down at them, in a fighting stance.
Bucky felt his fist tighten, preparing for whatever was going to happen next. Cara was cradling her arm, hair matted from the rain. She was shaking slightly, and would obviously be no use. She was glaring upwards, in the same direction as him, not at all afraid.
He turned back, as a burst of lightning lit up the man's face. His eyes were feral, mouth twisted into a snarling smile. As the light faded, the man lept down, hand extended like a claw. Bucky lifted his arm, at the same time pushing Cara away. The man's nails collided on his arm, scratching the metal with a series of sparks, and a sickeningly high pitched sound. The man's other hand lashed out, catching his shoulder. He could feel the nails tear a gash, and kicked him hard in the chest. Bucky wasted no time pulling a knife from his pocket and walking forward. The man grinned.
"Barnes," he said, sneering. "I heard you were messed up by HYDRA. Pity."
Bucky hesitated. "How do you know who I am?"
"What? Don't remember me?" He lunged forward, narrowly missing Bucky's face, as he punched him in stomach. Bucky grunted, flipping the knife in his hand, and slamming down into the man's back. The other man stumbled back, towards where he had knocked Cara, hand flying towards the embedded knife. Instead of falling the ground, he grinned, and yanked it out, hurling it to the ground at his feet. Glancing down at the fallen woman, he yanked her up, putting his claws at her neck. He dug in his fingernails enough to make it bleed, the blood mixing with the rainwater, and running down onto her shirt.
"You made quite a lot of noise, Barnes," he said. "Caught a lot of people's attention. Now, if you don't want to see me tear out her throat, you'll come with me."
Cara gripped his hand, trying in vain to pull it off. Her green eyes met his. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. Quietly, she let her hand drop to her side, pulling out a knife of her own, and quickly slashing at his arm, nearly severing it at the wrist. The man howled, pulling sharply back, releasing her. It gave Bucky enough time to run forward, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the road. Her injured arm was still tucked up to her chest.
After a few minutes, when there was no sign of them being followed, he slowed.
"Who was he?" Cara said, trying to catch her breath. "He seemed to know you."
"I've never seen him before in my life."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes!"
She nodded. He looked at her. She must've been freezing. Her jacket had been left in the car, her shirt soaked with blood and water. Her wet hair stuck to her face and arms, a dark red color. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a scar on her chest, just under her collarbone. It looked like it came from a knife, or something like it. Glass or debris would have left a more jagged line. Her hand was still in his. He released it quickly, stepping away from her. She began to walk forward, and her arm was probably sprained or broken from how she held it against her chest.
"Let me see," he said, surprising himself. She paused, looking back.
"What?"
"Your arm."
"Oh," she said. She extended it tentatively. He roughly took it, trying to ignore how she winced when he did. He softened his touch slightly. He wasn't used to caring for other people's injuries. Hell, he wasn't used to caring for to caring for his own. Usually, a specialised team of doctors did that for him. It didn't look broken, at least.
"You'll be fine."
He pushed passed her, beginning the walk down the road. She followed him, silently.
After a few minutes, he turned back to her.
"Where did you get that knife?" he asked her. The way she had handled it. Like a professional. Somehow she had managed to slash it to give them enough time to get away, nearly taking off his hand. And she wasn't panicking. There was something about her. Something that made him sure she was not exactly who she said she was.
"I told you I can take care of myself," she said. She smiled slightly. "Do you really think I would pick up a hitchhiker and not be armed?"
"I wasn't hitch hiking," he mumbled. She rolled her eyes, walking beside him. While there was still a decent amount of space between them, he could feel her beginning to shiver violently. He sighed again, pulling off his coat, complete with the bloody gash in the upper arm. He placed it on her shoulders, not meeting her eyes. He didn't need it really. He had a higher tolerance for the cold. She blinked up at him.
"You didn't need to do that."
"Don't waste it," he said. She pulled it tighter around her shoulders.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He nodded, looking forward. Anywhere but at her.
They continued down the nearly abandoned road in silence.
A/N: I hate writing fight scenes. Just putting that out there.
Also, first time we're seeing something from Bucky's perspective. Hope I captured him well... Which is hard when you have nothing to go on other than like three lines after he's literally had himself rewritten.
I wouldn't expect another update this soon after one for a while... I just get so excited when I first start posting stories.
A note on the bad guy in this chapter... In this story, all the Marvel movies (MCU, X Men, Spiderman, etc) take place in the same universe. And in this story, both Wolverine and Sabretooth, back when they were "friends", occasionally joined up with the Howling Commandos for missions... Make of that as you will.
The song here is Carry Me In by Cage the Elephant, and is one of the b-sides, so it would never be heard on the radio. I'm not sure why I included it, other than the lyrics work beautifully for the story. It's where I got the title.
This was a long author's note, I'm truly sorry. Thank you for reading and I hope to see you all next time.