BB:

I couldn't tell you why I chose Romania. I remember fragments of a mission here in '64. I can remember the face of the target and the outcome, but not much else.

I came to Bucharest after a few months of wandering from place to place. I needed to lay low. No one here seemed to care about the Avengers or what happened in Washington, so it seemed as good a place as any to hideout for a while.

In truth, nowhere was ever going to be okay. Not now. I was running from at both HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. and god knows who else.

The things that rumbled around my head most were the missions, the tactics, weapons, the base in Siberia and the cold. There were some days I felt I could never get warm, not matter what the temperature. Strangely the base and that pervasive cold was the closest thing to home I could remember.

Then there were the fragments of memory that came from before, a seed planted by Steve Rogers but it was all fragmented and felt alien. Images and feelings that didn't fit and didn't make sense, they were like flicking through two completely contradicting story books at the same time. There were snippets that fit together, like a short on a film reel. But it all felt wrong to me. There was nothing to anchor it to and so it was as unreal as a dream.

I needed to get my head together. I need to piece as much of me back together as I could. Me, Bucky – that was my name from what I read in the Smithsonian, but even that didn't feel right. The Winter Soldier was still there, I was still him… he just wouldn't, or couldn't leave me alone.

Over the last few weeks though Bucky was starting to fight back as more fragments came forward to confuse me even more. I managed to find abandoned houses and apartments making them a temporary sanctuary, where I couldn't I slept rough as I moved from place to place. I started making a book of memories, questions and occasionally I got some answers. But, as hard as I tried, I couldn't put the puzzle together. It all remained just pieces.

I'd been living rough in Bucharest for a few days scouting out somewhere more secure. I found an apartment that was empty, seized by the authorities and then abandoned. The building was run down and on the outskirts of the centre of Bucharest. I knew the language and could become invisible.

The area wasn't the best place to be, people tended to keep to them self in case of attracting the wrong sort of attention; but that was ideal for me. The apartment I had in mind was a top floor corner with good vantage points and more than the average exfiltration options. No working elevators any task force would need to come by stairs or by air, either way you would hear them coming and have plenty of time to make your move. There were several escape options, from the fire escapes or balconies onto the roof tops of Bucharest.

Over a few days, I checked out some of the residents. Families, single guys, single women, nothing innocuous stood out or caused any concern. I managed to get a pre-used lock from a local salvage yard and fitted it during the day when the top floor residents were out. They were all predictable in their movements which gave a good margin for any excursions with minimal contact.

After I'd changed the locked, I waited a few days before I moved in, wanting to see if any suspicions had been raised, any officials called to have a look. But, just as I suspected, nothing… people just kept doing what they were doing.

Retrieving my duffle bag from where I stashed it, I moved in early the next morning. I would be nice just to get somewhere warm and out of the elements to sleep with walls surrounding me again. But no matter where I was I would always have one eye open; that was just the nature of things.

I spent the day securing the apartments and arranging what remnants of furniture were left in the apartment for best use, taking note of the exits and how they could be used tactically. A fold down table was just the right width to jam the small hallway next to the door. A mattress had been left on the floor, it would do to sleep on but it could be used as a barrier for any attack from the window. I had no need for furniture. I cleaned what I could, discarding the waste that had been left behind and opened windows to get some air into the otherwise stale environment. It must have been years since this space was used. I would need tape and newspaper to block the view, easy to remove and replace but it would stop straying eyes and provide privacy.

I worked most of the morning and then went out to get supplies. Home by early afternoon I'd managed to get some blankets from a charity shop along with a small transistor radio. I had a few bits of food, and the tools I needed including the newspaper and tape. I spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening taping the windows and amending the wiring to by-pass the electricity meter to provide power to the apartment, just in time to have light once it started to get dark.

I still couldn't rest though. It was always the same when I arrived someplace new. I needed to grow to trust the environment, but even that was dangerous. Trust could grow into comfort, and comfort into complacency… Observe and understand anyone who lived close by, assess the risks and evaluate, strategy not comfort was going to determine whether I could actually stay here and for how long. These were open ended questions, evaluated hour by hour, minute by minute. The answers changing with each piece of information collected as I continued to assess my situation and adapted to it. Always the soldier, he wouldn't let me lose my guard, he would keep me alive.

I turned the radio on low, wanting a distraction from the sounds in the stairwell of people coming home. I could still hear their movements clearly, but they didn't put me on edge so much when there was a bit of noise to dull them. If anyone would come up to the top floor, I would know.

I decided to try and eat. Tonight would be basic rations, a cold meal from a tin just like on an op. I wasn't comfortable enough yet to cook and get partially distracted in aroma or taste. I started to rummage through the small amount of food I'd placed in the cupboards earlier when I heard the steps coming up to the top floor. I started to move out of the kitchen area and closer to the door, my essential gear still in my back pack sitting on the floor nearby.

Eyeing up the bag, muscles ready to move, I heard a door unlock, open then close. I relaxed. A neighbour had come home.

Thoughts of food went out of my mind and I reached for the back pack. Taking it to the table I found my small knife. Sealing up the bag, I had just put it on the mattress when I heard the neighbouring apartment door open again and after a few seconds there was a firm knock at mine. I stood still, eyeing up the bag a few feet away.

'Buna?' It was a girl's voice and she spoke Romanian although her pronunciation was not correct. She wasn't from here.

'Hello?' Another knock, this time less assured, she spoke English.

I opened the door just enough to see her, but obscuring her view of me. She looked like she was in her twenties, average height, above average weight, the colour of her hair and eyes obscured by the dim hallway lights and the fact that she wore it up. Her clothes were formal. Did she work for S.H.I.E.L.D. maybe?

A moments silence hung in the air and I could see her falter. She was nervous. Good, that would keep her away.

To my surprise she composed herself and managed a smile but it wasn't convincing enough to hide her nerves.

'Welcome to building,' she said then attempting Romanian once again, 'Bine ati venit.'

She offered something forward and I glanced down to see her offer a plate with biscuits on it, I looked back at her with suspicion. The Bucky inside me queried 'Did people actually do this still?' Then the Soldier kicked in 'Did she work for an agency?' I reached behind me without moving the door to raise concern, my right hand gripping the knife I had just retrieved. All the while I looked at her, ready for her to make her move.

Without seeming to notice my preparation she placed the plate of the floor before me and said 'These are for you, to say welcome.' Her composure almost gone, her broken Romanian was getting worse, and by her accent, she was definitely English.

Pointing to the door on the left she said 'I live next door.' Again, another smile but the discomfort of the situation showed through. If she did work for an agency, she was new and not very well trained.

Backing away she said 'You can keep the plate, or leave it outside my door when you're done.' This time no Romanian, I kept my silence. Observing her I could be no obvious gun holsters or knives.

'Nice to meet you' she offered as she made her way back into the safety of her apartment. Closing the door behind her, I closed mine leaving the plate where it was.

I left the radio on and went back to preparing my rations, taking a can and a fork I listened past the radio to try and anticipate her movements as I ate, moving around the apartment for best advantage. For a long time she did nothing, then there was a mumble as though she were talking to herself. I finally heard movement, she was soft footed –either bare foot of fitted shoes, no scuffing of loose fitting shoes. A tap ran, a flush of a toilet, I could hear curtains close on a curtain rail closer to the wall that ran the length of my apartment. I glanced to the balcony, a light went off.

I waited.

A few hours had past and there had been no new movement from inside the apartment. I had a choice to make. I could leave things be and take a risk that she was no threat, investigate now and deal with the consequences, or do it tomorrow knowing that if she had raised the alarm teams would be on the way already.

I don't do well sitting still. Slight sounds become a noise from a past mission or an upcoming target or threat. I couldn't remember the last time I actually relaxed.

I considered my options. Evaluate the threat, adapt, or die. Those were the only choices I had.

My mind started to release itself as I worked over tactics, infiltration, and escape routes. Bucky withdrew and the Winter Soldier started to come alive. Like it or not he breathed life back into me. It's in these moments when I feel the most whole. I was all instinct and logic; no emotion to cloud judgement.

There would be no sleep tonight, I had a mission.