On the dawn of a windy, Thursday in the second week of April, Bucky Barnes stood outside his apartment building, gazing at the slow-moving cars that drifted by him, on his street. The weather was still chilly at this hour, with a light haze rolling around, but spring had certainly arrived.

Bucky wore a light-grey jumper and black pants, and held a black duffle bag in one hand, and a dry-cleaners bag, in the other one behind his back.

He had decided to go to Sam's wedding in Delacroix, by road, instead of air. He wasn't a big fan of flying. It wasn't that he was scared, since he had flown many times before… but being holed up in a metal box thousands of feet above ground, jampacked with hundreds of staring strangers, just wasn't on his list of favourite activities. Besides, this was a good excuse to finally take in the new world around him and see how it had changed.

Bucky wasn't too eager to attend the wedding, but he was aware that he and Sam were on delicate terms. He was surprised to have been invited at all. Surprised, but also grateful. So, he ignored the way his stomach twisted at the thought of being in a room with all of Sam's friends from the military and ex- S.H.I.E.L.D.. He could already imagine them examining Bucky from head to toe, as if he was a rogue experiment, or a dormant threat. To be fair, Bucky hadn't ever given them any reason to relieve their suspicions.

Then again, at least he had a friend – if that's what he and Jackie were – along with him. He knew she wasn't familiar with Sam's friends and family either. In fact, even less so than Bucky – who had thoroughly investigated each and every one of them. But Jackie had been distant since the subway incident, a month ago. Not obviously so, but Bucky could read people very well. Perhaps not on social cues, but discomfort was something he was expert at picking up on, and Jackie hadn't been very comfortable since then.

After that day, Jackie had frequently messaged Bucky for a few days, to check if he was healing alright, and if there was anything he needed, but he had promptly refused any help. He wasn't proud of how disastrously he had underestimated the attackers. The physical pain haunted him less than the shame. He had not only risked someone's life, but he had failed to protect them, and himself.

If there was anything Bucky could rely on for the past century, it was that he could protect himself. He could survive anything that came his way, no matter how scarred it left him. No matter whether he wanted to survive through it, at all. And God knows, Bucky had survived much worse than a couple of bullet holes.

Perhaps it was a sign that he wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore. He couldn't get away with the same things anymore. Maybe, the Winter Soldier's strength didn't come from within him, but from HYDRA. If that was so, Bucky should feel relieved at being one step further away from those days, and one step closer to being a normal, human being. However, it wasn't relief that he felt – holed up, recuperating alone, in his apartment for weeks. It was disappointment.

Even if he was no longer physically or mentally the Winter Soldier, Bucky was still emotionally tethered to him. The same way he was tethered to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, of the Howling Commandos. The way he was tethered to the memory of his baby sister calling him "BuckBuck Goose", instead of Bucky.

Bucky shook his head and focused his unrelenting stare on the passing bicyclists and newspaper trucks that passed by. He got ready too early, so he had no one to blame for this wait but himself.

Maybe Jackie had sensed Bucky's existential woes and regret, and that's why she had distanced herself more, to give him space. That, or she was dealing with the traumatic aftermath of indirectly killing someone. She was right to blame Bucky for it. It had been his arrogance and search for a fight, that had gotten them into the mess. He had been too eager and too confident to do what he did best.

Fight.

Nevertheless, a week ago, when Jackie had abruptly asked him if he was going to the wedding, Bucky told her he would go by road, and that's when she offered him a ride in her car. Bucky didn't know she could even drive, but he had accepted the invitation with humility and a hint of distant guilt.

Finally, a light-blue comet rolled through the street and stopped in front of Bucky with a jolt. Jackie rolled down her window and grinned from under her sunglasses.

"Get in loser, we're going shopping,"

Bucky frowned as he placed his bag in the backseat and hung his packaged, dry-cleaned suit. "Okay,"

It was clearly the wrong answer and Jackie huffed her disapproval. "It's always wasted on you," she murmured under her breath. He could tell it was going to be long journey.

Although Jackie had complained of Bucky's motorcycle driving, hers was nothing to write home about. Maybe it was because the car was rusty and old (or in Jackie's words – "vintage"), but it jolted to a halt at every traffic light, and the steering wheel was stubbornly rigid. Jackie swerved through the roads with bubbling uncertainty.

"So why are you going by road again?" Bucky quipped when they were finally out on the open road, at the outskirts of New York. They'd been on the road for over an hour and mostly in silence.

"I needed a break from work, and the city. Uncle Benji had been bugging me for weeks to take my mom's car out his garage already, so he can sell his house. So, it looks like this baby's mine now," Jackie patted the dashboard fondly, as if she was petting a dog. Then she quickly swerved the car straight again.

"Hmm, I didn't know you could drive," Bucky kept his sunglasses on, staring out at the wide road and buildings around them. Back in his day, none of these buildings existed. Neither did this road, probably.

"It was my mom's old car, which she lent to me for college, so I could drive between cities. But afterwards, it just wasn't feasible to keep a car in New York. At least, not for me. So, I gave it back to her, and I'd borrow it from time to time. I'm just… a little out of practice,"

For emphasis, Jackie blared the horn at the car ahead of them. Bucky didn't question her energetic mood this morning.

"So, you're gonna drive twenty-two hours to Delacroix, for practice?"

She hummed nonchalantly as a response, her arm hanging loosely out of the car window, as the early sun shone down on her tawny skin and the open road around them. After a while, she said:

"I'm not gonna be driving the whole time though." From under her glasses, she smirked knowingly at Bucky, and then back at the road.

"What does that mean?"

"How would you – James Barnes, like to learn how to drive?"

Bucky refused the offer upfront, but Jackie was especially hard to dissuade this morning. She insisted that there was no way she could drive all the way, and so – despite his better judgement, Bucky reluctantly got in the driver's seat. Maybe it was because he still felt guilty about the subway incident, and it made it hard for him to disagree too strongly with her. He wasn't sure if Jackie was taking advantage of that, but either way – he couldn't coldly shut her down. Why had he even agreed to carpool?

"This is illegal," he proclaimed as he gripped the steering wheel tightly with his vibranium hand.

"Oh definitely," Jackie agreed. "But what are they gonna do… put you behind bars for driving without a license? No way. And in case things go south, please say you took me hostage,"

Bucky shot Jackie a glare, but she daringly grinned at the road ahead. "That's not funny," he mumbled, but he started the car, nevertheless.

Jackie had an unnerving sense of faith in his driving, especially considering that they were on the highway, but she insisted that he would learn fast "all things considered". Her luck fortunately paid off for the two of them.

Bucky's heightened senses and expert reflexes allowed him to quickly master the skill and memorize the movements. He could also predict other drivers' movements just by glancing their way through the mirrors. Perhaps, the Winter Soldier wasn't yet completely gone. If anything, Bucky was sure he drove far more smoothly than Jackie. But he wasn't ever about to reveal that aloud.

By the time he was driving without any feedback or help from Jackie, it was afternoon and they stopped for lunch at a diner on the outskirts of a city. Bucky wouldn't admit it, but his previously injured shoulder, did feel a little sore, and he was grateful for the break. They both kept their glasses on as the sun had climbed high in the sky, and the warmth pushed Bucky to leave his jumper in the car. Instead, he put on his black jacket over his half-sleeves, pale blue t-shirt, and his gloves came on again.

Jackie and Bucky mostly ate their burgers in silence, and once back in the car, she was quieter than before, as her early morning energy wore off. She wore a light denim shirt and dark blue jeans. The least Jackie could do to distance herself from the city life was trick her outfit into looking the part, even if it did feel strange to be out of her usual, favourite formal wear.

Bucky was happy to not drive this time around, as he slept off his full stomach with a short, afternoon nap and when he awoke, he found a relieved Jackie who was dying to finally play her music aloud.

"This isn't music, it's noise," Bucky countered firmly. Both their glasses had come off in the evening sky, and traffic on the road was mor clustered than earlier. It was rush hour.

"You wouldn't be able to tell good music even if it sneaked up and tackled you from behind,"

"Because nothing sneaks up on me," Bucky responded stoically.

"Really? Are you sure you wanna go with that answer?"

Bucky's memory flashed to the subway incident once more, and he sighed regretfully. She had the upper hand and was taking every opportunity to edge him on it.

"Okay, there's a couple of exceptions," he admitted, exasperatedly. Jackie didn't continue the conversation, but her music remained on.

She called it "everything Y2K" but to Bucky, it sounded like screeching, machine noises and autotuned voices. She experimented with punk and heavy metal, but whatever aura Bucky exuded – that made Jackie think it would be an accurate choice for him – proved wrong. He hated it even more than the Y2K collection and the yelling was enough to give him a headache. He had survived electric shocks from HYDRA, but this was where he drew the line. Jackie would occasionally mutter "grandpa" under her breath, every time he criticized her music, but it made no difference to him.

Bucky gave her some names of musicians from the 40's, but after playing each of them, Jackie (exaggeratedly) pronounced all of them to be boring and a drag. Finally, after many hours of bickering and album changes, they settled on 70's and 80's soft rock. The unlikeliest winner of the competition, that Bucky was mildly grateful for. Only mildly.

They passed by orchards in full bloom, and fresh spring air greeted them at every turn. The sun slowly fell lower into the skyline, painting the horizon a stunning shade of crimson red and dark blue.

By the time it grew dark, the traffic had slowly subsided, and Bucky took over wheel from Jackie. At first, she refused to nap with a "learner" at her side, but eventually, she dozed off.

Bucky drove on, his right hand lightly gripping the gearstick. He lost track of time has cars whizzed by – leaving lines of red and yellow in his peripheral vision. He had lowered the music when Jackie had fallen asleep, and he preferred the silence and mechanical roar of the engine instead. His gaze flickered over the line of trees along the road, and he could see the moon above them, glowing down upon him.

An eerie feeling crept over Bucky, and he felt goosebumps along his arm, as he quickly scoured his surroundings for threats. No one was following them. He had an eye for spotting familiar number plates and recognise cars from even hours before, but none spiked his concern. Then why did he feel this way? He ran his vibranium fingers through his short hair and glanced at the trees to his left again. The feeling surged through his body again. A familiar, fear that gripped his body. He had been here before. Under the moonlight, driving his bike. Except, last time – the road had been a dirt path, and the streetlights were sparse. He had stopped at a gas station diner and no one besides Bucky had left the diner alive that night.

"Hey, wake up," he whispered to Jackie. His throat was suddenly dry, and his voice croaked.

"Jackie, wake up," there was a growing urgency in his voice. Bucky didn't want to hold the wheel anymore. He couldn't stand being inside this metal box any longer. His body was growing numb and tingling, and he couldn't hear anything besides his own heart pounding against his chest, unnervingly loud. Even the air tasted stale, as his brain buzzed with flashes of terrifying memories.

Jackie stirred in her sleep but didn't wake up. Bucky suddenly yelled her name and she jolted awake with a start. She gazed around confused at her surroundings. It was nearly 9pm. She looked at Bucky and noticed the sweat on his forehead, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to leave a dent. His entire body was rigid, and his gaze flickered over the road manically. He had woken her up but now all words escaped him.

"Hey bud, you wanna slow down?" Jackie's voice was stable and calm as she shifted in her seat nervously.

Bucky didn't respond. Or even hint that he had heard Jackie. After a few seconds, he licked his lips and without breaking his stare from the road, he replied in a low tone. "I can't,"

Now it was Jackie's turn to panic. She pushed her stray curls behind her ears as she looked out at the dimly lit, meandering road ahead of them. There were still cars around them, and the possibilities for tragedies were endless. Jackie really didn't want to go to trauma therapy again. But maybe she wouldn't even get a chance to step out of this car again. So much for honouring her mother's memory with it.

"Okay, gently lift your foot off the accelerator, and let's move towards the right. Come on Buck,"

Bucky didn't show any signs of listening. If anything, he was driving even faster than before, and they had left most cars in the dust. It was just the comet, the road, and the darkness.

His forehead was furrowed and brimming with sweat, but besides that, Bucky's face showed no emotions. With his lips pursed, Jackie couldn't read him at all.

His mind was flooded with memories of the night. But it wasn't only that night. He had driven on the highway many times, dropped by HYDRA's trucks or planes, and Bucky travelled on his bike like a ghost in the night, murdering and looting secluded, rundown warehouses and factories. Secret bases and safehouses. Diners and underground labs. Now, after all these years, he was here again.

He had been naive enough to think he was going to sightsee the country when he had already shed blood on every inch of land.

"I've been here before. On these roads. I've killed on them," Bucky's voice was raspy and his breath shaky. He spoke in short exhales.

With a pounding heart and ringing ears, Jackie struggled to remain composed. She was a therapist; she should be able to calm him down. But all Jackie could think of was her mother. Fleeting images of her face, and Jackie recalled the never-ending days and nights she had spent crying over her. And to think, countless more would greet her ahead in the future. Maybe this was what Jackie had wanted all along. A quick exit off the highway.

She blinked and the thought was gone. She was back in the speeding car once more. Jackie raised her hand to touch Bucky's shoulder but stopped in mid-air, realising it could have dire consequences.

"Bucky, can you hear me?" she spoke with clearly, and with a firm hold over her tone, despite her rapid breathing and racing heart.

Bucky's gaze was still fixed straight ahead, and his eyes were glassy but after a few, long seconds, he slightly nodded.

"No one's getting killed tonight, alright? Do you wanna listen to some 40's music? What was the name of the guy who sang about ballroom dancing, again?" she awaited a response, but there was none. She hoped it was because to her, all old music was about ballroom dancing. Maybe she'd been too vague. Her hollow words bounced off Bucky before he could absorb them.

Jackie's gaze was fixed on the Bucky, as if she was trying to pierce a hole through his brain, from where she could enter and then take over. Did she really want to take over his brain when she could barely control her own? And after everything Bucky had been through, it was highly doubtful that she could survive there.

"Do you see that green sign up ahead?" it was far away but Jackie knew Bucky could see it better than her. The nearest road sign stated that there was a curve coming up and Jackie wanted them off the road before that happened. Bucky needed time.

Bucky nodded once more, but his attention was fleeting. It was as if Jackie was barely there. Even he was barely there.

"Let's get off the road on that exit. We'll to stop the car there,"

They were almost floating through the air now, and any second Bucky could lose control and so would the car. The monotonous lane marks were their only witness.

Bucky didn't respond but Jackie noticed he had tensed his leg, almost as if it pained him to leave the accelerator. Jackie slowly grabbed the wheel with her left hand and gently pulled it towards her, so that the car moved towards the right.

"Slower, Bucky. Come on," she urged, with her voice stern, but with a hint of desperation. They were nearly at the sign board and still too fast.

Finally, just as they were about to hit the exit sign, Bucky gritted his jaw and his metal grip on the wheel tightened as his all his muscles tensed. With a swift move, the car swerved to right, and Bucky's foot slammed the break and the car skidded to a stop.

For the first few seconds, the only sound in the air was the jagged breaths of Jackie and Bucky. An owl hooted in the distance as the green sign above them flashed ominously. Finally, Jackie and Bucky met each other's gaze and both of them quietly got out of the car.

Jackie welcomed the smell of dirt and trees, and she tried to forget how she thought she might not smell it again. A car rushed along the road, barely a speck of light in the darkness. They were surrounded by trees, barren land and possibly a ramshackle bar on their dirt path, ahead.

Behind her, Jackie could hear Bucky heaving but then he stopped and stood up again, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"You good?" it seemed like an oversimplified question, all things considered, but she wasn't sure what else to say, as her heart finally stopped hammering against her chest. Against the light of the road, Bucky gave her a rather unconvincing and ominous thumbs up.

After 15 silent minutes of stretching their legs and walking about, they both got back in the car. Neither of them spoke about what had unfolded just a while ago. What was there to say? Bucky had just confessed to killing people in this region, so what was Jackie supposed to say to that? She could sense he was still perturbed. She handed him a bottle of water and slowly drove onto the road.

Bucky's anxiety still persisted, and he shuffled in his seat from time to time. It was easy to tell that he didn't want to be here. Nevertheless, they were behind schedule. Jackie checked her phone which had fallen off its holder on the dashboard and sure enough, the GPS indicated that between Bucky's driving lessons, a prolonged lunch, and the panic attack – they were still a couple of hundred miles from the motel Jackie had chosen to stay for the night. It seemed their dinner would have to consist of the sandwiches she had made the night before.

After a couple of uneventful hours of driving through the night, Jackie turned her gaze at Bucky, whose eyes were clasped shut, and his head rested upright on the headrest behind him. His body was still tense, and it was obvious he wasn't asleep.

"You made two dents in my steering wheel," Jackie broke the silence. The sound of her voice echoed in the car, extremely loud against the quiet hours. "The wheel is squeezed pretty hard in those spots,"

"Sorry," Bucky responded coolly without opening his eyes. His voice sounded hollow. "I'll get it fixed,"

"If you don't feel well, we can stop anytime. There's no rush," Jackie lied, she was definitely in a rush. Bucky didn't respond but he swallowed. His eyes opened and he stared at the dark silhouettes of trees along the road.

"You know, I used to get really car sick as a kid, and my mom would play eye-spy to distract me. It worked really well actually,"

Jackie didn't know why she was blabbering on; Bucky wasn't car sick and there were only road lights and darkness around them. As expected, he didn't respond. He had retracted further back into his shell. Perhaps Jackie was talking to soothe herself, and not him. She found herself recollecting the fond memories of road trips with her mother.

"You know, I wasn't sure if we – no – I'd, make it out alive, back there," Jackie spoke in a low tone. Her voice was calm, and soft. Almost humorous. He could tell that she wasn't intending to guilt-trip him.

Bucky didn't respond but he blinked a few times. Jackie kept her staring straight on the road.

"I wanted to… but there was this tiniest voice in my head, that said "what if"? What if I just let it happen? I've helped so many people move on from so many horrible things. But even after all these months, I can't seem to move on myself. Everything seems so hopeless without her, as if I'm bound to be doomed any minute,"

Bucky's brain shifted its focus from himself, and onto Jackie instead. He was pensive and quiet for a while but then he spoke up in a hoarse, but light tone.

"Maybe you are, maybe you're not. But you won't find out, unless you keep going. Weren't you the one who said there's more honour in living through a hardship, than dying from it,"

"Oh God," Jackie shook her head, but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Don't remind me of that cheesy shit. It's hypocritical of me. And anyway, fuck honour. Honour means shit. Honour is for people who devote their lives to some lost cause and political propaganda…. I just want my mom back,"

Even as Jackie said the last part aloud, a deep shame bubbled inside her. A shame over how bitter and emotional she sounded. A shame over her unintended insult towards Bucky's past in the army. She, herself had navigated the conversation towards this vulnerable topic, Bucky hadn't asked her about it. In fact, he was the one coping with a resurfacing of traumatic memories. Why was Jackie doing this? The angrier she felt, the larger the lump in her throat grew, and her face felt flushed with emotion. Was it her turn to drive them off the road?

"Whatever way you live, you can still honour her memory. You know, for someone who understands other people for a living, you really don't give yourself that same privilege,"

There was a hint of a smile in Bucky's tone as he spoke, but his face remained expressionless and clear, as he continued:

"You don't move on from death, not really. No one in this world can be substituted with anything, or anyone else. They leave that empty space behind. And you can't cover it or hide it away. You're not supposed to recover from death. You live through it. And guess what Jackie? You're living through it,"

Jackie didn't have the strength inside to meet Bucky's temperate gaze on her, but she forced a tiny smile at the road. She brushed away the tears brimming in her eyes and inhaled deeply, stretching her fingers over the steering wheel. Bucky looked towards the trees again, but he looked stronger and a little relaxed. They drove in comfortable silence once more.

Half an hour before midnight, they reached the motel. It seemed fairly less threatening than the rest, as it was closer to the road, and brightly lit. The neon signs advertising its existence ranged from sparking green, to pink and blue. There was a bar on the ground floor, and the building structure was expansive, with at least a dozen cars in the parking lot. Surely their chances of getting mugged or killed, reduced drastically, but weren't completely gone.

Getting out of the car, Jackie looked at Bucky's determined demeanour as he had recovered from his panic and stretched his arms outside; realising for the first time that his companionship meant safety. She found herself often forgetting his historical status. With or without the Winter Soldier programming, he was – and always would be – a threat to anyone who crossed his path. He was a public celebrity and more than just a human being. It was absolutely absurd how forgetful she could be of that.

"What?" Bucky frowned at Jackie's unwavering gaze on him. She quickly snapped back to reality.

"Sorry, I was just checking to see if you're still ugly,"

It was immature, but it shut Bucky up.

While checking in, Jackie offered him a room, but Bucky insisted that he'd sleep in the car, so she let him be (more safety for the car, she supposed). After bidding him goodnight and grabbing her suitcase from the car, she went upstairs to the motel veranda and into her room.

The motel wasn't winning any awards, but it suited her needs well enough. Jackie had a thin, rickety bed, a chair, a miniature TV, and a bathroom with a broken light. All packed into a compact little room. She locked the door, changed into her pyjamas, brushed her teeth and dozed off into the deepest sleep of her life.

At sunrise, Bucky called her consecutively until she woke up. With a quick shower, Jackie was downstairs at the bar. After eating, she gave Bucky the keys to her room so he could shower and check out for her, while she filled up her car with gas, at the station next to the motel.

The early morning air was chilly, and the sky was illuminated in shades of baby pink and blue. Wispy clouds were scattered across the sky and the air was pleasantly crips and clean. There was barely anyone around at such an early hour. Except for a bearded man, who staggered closer to Jackie as she filled her car with gas.

"Let me do it," he blurted out suddenly. He smelled of gas and grease.

"No thanks,"

"It's okay sweetheart, I got it,"

With that, the stranger moved towards Jackie and grabbed the gas pump from her hand, before she could react. She instinctively pulled herself away.

From underneath her sunglasses, she assessed the situation and then smiled politely, walking across the car.

"Nice car, you sure you know how to drive this thing?" the stranger smirked uncouthly her way. He was bald, but not much older than Jackie. His dark ginger moustache shone brightly in the sun. A gentle breeze blew between them.

"Not really. I kind of stole it from my ex-boyfriend," She raised a finger to her lips as if it was a secret shared between only Jackie, and the stranger.

The man raised an eyebrow at her, as he continued pumping her car with gas. She had arrived with a nearly empty tank.

"Yeah, he broke up with me because he said I was a klutz…. which I totally am. But the problem is: he made all the money in the relationship, so –" Jackie twirled around the car giddily and then whispered in a hushed tone: "technically, I can't even pay for gas,"

"Seriously?" The man looked back at the pump machine. "You just got a full tank!"

Jackie shrugged her shoulders with a dramatic pout. "It's just that with car, and the money – I can't do all of it alone!" She sounded exceedingly whiny, but her voice was dripping with honey.

"Jesus, calm down hon. Look, I'll cover for gas okay? Maybe I can teach you how to drive this beauty," The man reassured her. His tone was condescending, but lenient, as if he was dealing with an aggravating child, who he knew so much better than.

Jackie flashed him her best smile from under her dark glasses as she sat down in the driver's seat. "Oh my gosh, you're an angel. What would I do without you?"

The man allowed himself to revel in that compliment, as he turned his flushed face away and closed her tank. He was clearly proud of himself, but as soon as he turned back towards her, the car engine roared. The comet reversed in full speed, back towards the motel entrance where Bucky had just appeared after checking out.

He frowned at the man in the distance, jogging towards them, waving his arms and yelling at him to stop Jackie. "Is that for you?" Bucky asked indifferently as he got into the car. He didn't seem to care. Jackie turned to look ahead, as if noticing the man for the first time in her life. She shifted gears and raced past him towards the main road.

"I'm sorry! I don't know where the breaks are!" she yelled back.

I love this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it too, and thanks for the reviews recondite17 and qmione xx