I twist my hand on the couch underneath me. A nail finds a scabbing cut on my hand and forces its way underneath the newly forming skin, pulling it off and letting the blood roll down my wrist. I lean back against the pillows behind me, my bandages wrinkling under my shirt, pain briefly shooting through my wounds.

I cross my arms across my chest, whipping the blood on my wrist off on my sweatpants. I give my best Melinda May stare across the coffee table at the man on the other side. His clothes are stiff, giving proof of a swim and dirty as though he has rolled in mud. His shoulder length hair is still drying and falls strangely in his unshaven face. He doesn't look like the man I remember from my hazy fever dream where I questioned his sanity.

His eyes are bright, exploring mine to understand what it is that is so important to him. He is leaning forward on his seat as if he can't stay there anymore.

"So," I say. "Just to be clear. You want me to join you in hunting down old Hydra assets?"

He nods.

"Why?"

"Well I'm going. I don't really care if you're going. I was just being nice."

I glare at him some more, my conscious battling itself. He looks down at his shoes.

"And I did save your life."

"You don't know anything about me," I say, studying his face as I struggle to make up my mind.

"Most of Hydra knows me on sight, and I did save your life." he says.

"What if I didn't want to be saved?" I ask.

"Well, then I'm very sorry you didn't want to be saved." He shoots back.

I glare at him more. Deep inside I feel that stirring I felt when I decided to commit myself to S.H.I.E.L.D.

"When do we start?" I ask.

Bucky grins at me, leaving me with a melancholy feeling thinking that that was how Captain America remembers his friend.

"Tonight, we'll leave for Brooklyn," he tells me.

"Okay, why Brooklyn." I ask.

"A while after the war Hydra went there because it was where Steve was from. I'm thinking we might find a lead."

I shrug it's not much of a lead but taking out the rest of Hydra seems more important than busting bank robbers. I stand up, glancing down at my oversized sweatpants and borrowed t-shirt.

"Come on," I say, brushing past his chair.

"Where are you going?" he asks, surprised.

"I'm going to buy some clothes for our trip, you are going to get a haircut."

He looks at me purely offended.

"You look like a caveman, that's not gonna go over so well in Brooklyn."

"But," he looks like a little kid when he casts his gaze on me. "Please no?"

I get the feeling that he is instantly regretting his decision to invite me.

"You have a car?" I ask, swinging my head around the kitchen wall.

"No," he says sulkily. I glare at him more.

"I'm wearing your shoes," I call, realizing that I don't have any.

He grunts.

"I'm also planning on spending your money," I say, checking my pockets.

He groans.

The walk into the town in uneventful. Neither of us speak the whole walk there. I spend about ten minutes avoiding judgmental stares and gathering the clothes I need to stalk old Hydra assets.

"Haven't seen you around here, honey," says the lady at the register, who looks about my age as she puts my clothes in a bag.

"I'm just visiting someone, I'm afraid I didn't come prepared," I laughed merrily. She gives me a pinched smile.

"So happy we could help."

"Thanks, sweetie," I say. It comes out more sarcastic than maybe it should have.

I slip into a public bathroom and change my clothes, leaving the old ones in the garbage. I brush out my tangled hair and apply some makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes and the still healing bruises on my face. I add mascara and a small winged cat eye, hoping I won't sweat it off in a fight later.

I meet Bucky in the center of town. While I was getting clothes he made the rounds and two backpacks sit at his feet filled with supplies. He stands up when he sees me his arms crossed definitely.

"I am not cutting my hair off," he says.

I raise my eyebrows. "I am following you blindly into a fight where I could possibly die. The least you could do is make it easier to blend in by having a manageable haircut."

"Did I mention that I saved your life?" he asks weakly.

"Yes, an obnoxious amount of times," I say, grabbing a backpack and heading toward the nearest hair cutting place. He drags his feet as he follows me.

Ten minutes later I sit in the waiting area hiding my face with a magazine. My eyes peek over to see Bucky's hair falling to the floor, and my mouth twitches uncontrollably as I try to keep myself from laughing at the look on his face. He glares at me.

I pay at the register and we walk outside. Bucky has a forlorn look on his face like he's lost something. I can't help but notice that the lady cut his hair the way it was before the whole Winter Soldier thing. I bump him with my shoulder.

"Aww, you're a looker," I say.

"I don't forgive you," he says glaring some more. "You look like every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent ever." I look down at my blue jeans, brown lace up combat boots, black t-shirt, navy zip up sweatshirt, and dark brown jacket.

"Thanks, so what's our next move?" I ask.

"You mean you don't have it all planned out already?" he asks, running his hands over his new hair.

I open my mouth. "Well," I start, but he holds his hands up and cuts me off.

"I was being sarcastic," he says, sounding exasperated. "I rented a car. We're gonna drive to the nearest airport which is about four hours away, I bought tickets on the overnight flight to Brooklin."

"My plan would be better," I tease.

"I have no doubt. Also I'm driving."

I race to catch up with him.

The car Bucky rented is small and filled with empty bottles and trash. I wrinkle my nose at the smell as I try to fit my knees in the cramped space under the dashboard of the passenger, still grumbling about not driving.

"So when we get to Brooklyn do we have a plan? Or are we just gonna walk around until we meet some Hydra agents?" I ask, giving up fitting my legs under the dash board and allowing them to sprawl on top. Bucky raises his eyebrows at me.

"You comfortable?"

"Hey, it's not my fault I don't fit in your car, which sucks by the way," I say, still squiggling to find a comfortable position to stay in for the next four hours. He rolls his eyes.

"It was cheap."

The rest of the ride is quiet. I dose, my face pressing into the door.

We stumble into the airport. I rub the side of my face to find deep sleep marks, so I try to fix my hair as we wait in line.

"Yeah," Bucky looks at me. "You might want to let me do the talking."

I punch him in the shoulder, my knuckles protesting at his muscular shoulder. He's grinning when I look up. He runs a hand through his new hair and I notice for the first time that he's wearing gloves to hide his metal arm. It's funny how easily I could forget that it was there, metal and oil instead of flesh and blood.

"I'll be right back."

I slip out of line and head into the store. I pick up a couple candy bars, essential for fighting Hydra, most of which I pay for, and the most touristy hat I can find. As I open my bag to put them inside I notice that Bucky's packed my suit. I smile to myself. I also buy two phones, the oldest make I can find and some pain killers. Mostly though I just needed to walk around, stretch my legs, warm the stiff joints, and work feeling back into my muscles. I return to the line, flopping the hat on Bucky's head.

"There now you really fit in," I joke.

"Really? Haven't you tortured me enough?" He groans.

"Trust me, Jimmy," I say, "The last thing we need is someone to realize you're a hundred year old war hero from World War two. I wouldn't be able to keep the girls away. Probably still won't." I pull the hat lower on his face. He bats my hand away, and hands me a passport.

"Tina Washington?" I ask.

"No time to be picky." he says.

I shrug, it's not the worst name I've gone by in my time after S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Ryan Hughes." I read off his passport. I hold out my hand. "Nice to be traveling with you."

We make it

on the plane and sleep most of the way. The airport in Brooklyn is much bigger and busier than the one we came from. It's easier to get lost in the crowd. I grab Bucky's hand and pull him through the masses of people and out the doors. The city is huge and the energy seems to fill me with life.

"So where to now?" I ask. "Where'd Steve grow up? It's probably like a museum now."

I look back at Bucky to find him in a state of shock. I shake his arm. "Jimmy? C'om we made it this far, let's go." I wave my hand in front of his face.

Eventually he shuffles his feet and I pull him behind me. We tour a museum, and I try to soak everything up. By the time we are done we have an address for Steve's old house. Unfortunately it's getting late, and while I'm in favor of breaking in, Bucky doesn't seem capable of functioning any longer so we get a hotel. I'm so used to being alone it odd to hear his snoring in the background as I drift off. I reminder that I'm not here for me anymore I'm here for him. Just like I was there for Coulson.