When I opened my eyes the next morning, gray dawn filtered in through the grimy window, and the sheet next to me was long abandoned. Slowly I climbed out of the creaky bed, shaking out my stiff knees, and gave the apartment a cursory once-over. Bucky was gone.

I tried not to worry as I poured myself a bowl of cereal, but I could not keep out the nagging panic at the idea that Bucky might not come back. Was he so embarrassed by last night that he would abandon me here, alone in a foreign city a billion miles from home? I didn't want to believe so, especially considering that I had felt a thread of friendship growing between us, but perhaps he had felt too uncomfortable being so vulnerable in front of me. As I ate I kept glancing at the door, jumping every time I thought I heard the key in the lock, but it stayed shut tight.

I decided to venture out into the neighborhood rather than sitting around and waiting, so once I had showered and dressed, I made my way down the street to the library.

A woman in her late fifties seated at the front desk smiled and greeted me in Romanian, and I smiled back and made an attempt at returning the greeting, although I could tell my accent was terrible. She raised her eyebrows and I apologized in English, flustered and forgetting the Romanian word.

"You are American?" her smile widened even further when I nodded sheepishly, and I was more than relieved when she repeated her welcome to me in accented English, introducing herself as Maria. When I told her my name and that I had just moved in up the street, she clapped her hands together and began pulling tri-fold pamphlets out of every desk drawer and tossed them to me: maps of the city, farmers' market schedules, charity events, library fundraisers. On an old desktop computer she pulled up a street map of the neighborhood and insisted upon printing it off for me and marking it with indications of the best places to eat and shop. When she returned from the office with the printed paper, she also held a steaming hot cup of coffee, which she pressed into my hands. I took it from her, and almost immediately inexplicably burst into tears.

Poor Maria's jaw dropped as she scurried around the desk to wrap a tender arm around my shoulders although she was nearly a foot smaller than me, pulling a wad of tissues from her pocket.

"I'm so sorry!" I blubbered, taking the tissues and mopping my cheeks with them. "It's been a very long journey to get here, it's so nice to find a friendly face. My–my husband," I stammered, recalling the story I had crafted for Bucky and me, "is… ill, and…" I trailed off, trying to get control of my emotions. With a deep breath, I gave her a watery smile and said, "Thank you for being so kind."

Maria gave me a tight squeeze and a few more pamphlets, and ten minutes later she handed me my new library card and sent me on my way, imploring me to come back and see her soon. I thanked her repeatedly as I stuffed the literature into my bag and shuffled out the door.

I spent the next few hours walking around the neighborhood, holding Maria's printed map in my hands and matching the checkpoints she had marked for me. It felt good to stretch my legs after being cramped in the boat for so long, and I found that I was loathe to return to the dark, dingy apartment. Especially if I was going to be alone.

The thought made my stomach drop. What would I do if Bucky did not come back? I wondered if one of the maps in my bag showed the location of an American Embassy. What would I tell them? That I had been kidnapped by the Winter Soldier, dragged to Romania, and given a library card?

Eventually I made my way back to the apartment as hunger began to gnaw at my gut. My heart hammered as I unlocked number 13 and pushed inside.

The room was empty.

Sighing, I dumped by bag onto the coffee table and set to work in the kitchen cutting vegetables for dinner.

I zoned out as I worked, shuffling memories like a deck of cards in front of my mind's eye, wondering how in the hell I had ended up here. I was foolish, I realized, in my dogged pursuit of knowledge and status, and if this all went to shit, I would pay dearly for it. I was sure that I did not have enough information in my notes to complete my thesis, not to mention that I could be in serious trouble for travelling illegally if the truth came out. Oddly more troubling, though, was the deepening sadness I felt at the idea of never seeing Bucky Barnes again.

I was stirring a large pot mindlessly and fretting, when I heard the lock turn on the door. Whipping around, relief crashed over me as Bucky edged through the entrance. He stopped when he saw me staring, cocking his head and giving me an awkward wave.

"Hey," he said.

Suddenly, relief melted into fury, and without thinking, I whipped the wooden spoon at him. He dodged it easily and whirled back to me, his face a mixture of alarm and amusement.

"What the hell was that for?"

"I thought you weren't coming back!" I huffed, planting my hands on my hips so as not to be tempted to throw any more utensils.

Bucky balked at that. " I told you I was going out to find a job today. Why in the world would I not come back? Where else do I have to go?"

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the stove, casting around for a replacement for the spoon, and I was annoyed to find tears pricking the corners of my eyes for the second time that day. I heard his footsteps coming up behind me and shut my eyes as I felt his warm hand press gently on my hip.

"What is it, doll? I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you when I left, you were sleeping so peacefully. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's alright," I mumbled, refusing to look at him, blinking hard to clear the traitorous tears away, "I just thought maybe after… after last night, you wouldn't… " I gulped, unsure how to say what I meant.

Tugging on my hip he forced me to turn to him; I stared at his chest so as not to meet his eyes and crossed my arms defensively, feeling silly now for my worry and especially so for my tantrum. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him, rubbing little circles on my back. After a few moments I began to relax, dropping my stiff arms and circling them around his torso to return his embrace.

"I'm not going anywhere. I would never leave you alone like that," he murmured close to my ear, and I shuddered a little in spite of myself as I felt his breath tickle my neck.

"I know. I'm sorry for thinking that."

He pulled back, looked into my eyes, and smiled. "Don't you apologize to me," he quoted my words from last night back to me, and I had to smile, too. We lingered there a long moment, inches apart, and I could have sworn I saw his eyes dart down to my lips and back. Heart pounding I stepped away and turned again towards the stove, clearing my throat.

"So, how did the job search go, then?"

"Good." The counter creaked a little as he leaned his muscular frame against it. "Got hired-on at a factory near the water. Mostly just loading and unloading heavy stuff from boat to truck. When the guy saw how much I could lift, he was willing to agree to any of my terms."

I glanced at him, impressed. "That's great. Will you get paid this week?"

"Yep. Then I can treat my wife to all the finer things a man can offer a lady," he adopted an exaggerated southern twang as he said it, making me snort with laughter. To my surprise, I felt his hand on my shoulder again, and he leaned around to place a small kiss on my temple before retreating to the bathroom to take a shower. I tried not to think about it too much as I finished cooking, but my body was buzzing with the warmth that radiated from the spot where Bucky's lips had been.