He is freezing, again. Fife minutes in this piercing cold would kill anyone, but not him. It's biting and harsh, he can feel ice crystals clinging to his cheeks and lashes. The wind is carding unforgivingly through his clothes. He should have gotten new ones. The soft, light fabric he's wearing now may have been adequate to the warm south that is Louisiana, but it is definitely not appropriate for his new mission. The mission he had given himself after Steve and Natalia had left.

He sat on the brittle parquet floor of the house, hidden behind a wall and listened to the both of them talking. When they left, he followed without thinking. He wanted to chide them for not being careful enough, wanted to go to them and keep them save. But he knew, he was a menace himself and so he maintained a safe distance. Still, he stayed too close. Bucky tried to tell himself that he was following them because it was the only way he could make sure that they wouldn't follow him and find him again. He was lying to himself.

The two of them returned to a dingy motel. Both of them entered room 12. It made him twitch and an uncomfortable feeling spread in his guts. Those were still new to him, feelings. At the same time, they were old as ever. He knew he had felt it before, knew exactly what it was too. Jealousy. He remembered that he had felt it a lot regarding Steve. He also knew that he was being stupid. They were sharing a room because it was saver. Two pairs of eyes to watch the entrances, two pairs of ears to hear trouble coming, two pairs of fists to fight. And anyway, Steve wasn't Natalia's type. He knew that for sure too. It didn't help ease the uncomfortable knot though.

He counted the minutes that they stayed inside. At 5 an uncomfortable tingling nibbled at him. At 10 it got hurtful and then finally they exited trough the once white door. 17 minutes. Not long enough for anything other than packing the small bag each of them was carrying. And when they came outside, they looked perfectly put together. Which was good, because it meant no sign of struggle. No one had been waiting for them, Hydra hadn't tried to attack them. He was lying to himself again.

Steve and Natalia got into a grey mini van and drove off at such an insanely fast speed that he could instantly tell Natalia was driving. Which was a disadvantage, because she really knew how to keep tails from following her. But he was still the asset, still the soldier. He hotwired a car from the parking lot and sped after them.

When they had gotten into a private airplane, he slipped into the baggage compartment.

That's where he is sitting now, curled behind a wooden box. If he has kept track of time correctly, which he cannot be sure of, they should be landing in New York soon. When he had been working for Hydra, it had been an advantage to lose hours, whole days. It had been desired. He could wait for a target, sitting in one position for a long time, without moving. He had never been noticed, perched on the same roof top for a whole week at times. Now it's not beneficial, he has to stay alert. He will have to get out fast, before anyone can notice him. Which won't be easy because even if he is used to his muscles being hardened and stiff from the cold, it still slows him down. He did it before, though. He can do it again.

As the rumbling of the turbines gets louder and louder around him, so loud that he almost can't hear his thoughts, he begins feeling himself panic. Whenever this happens it's like he flouts out of his body and can watch himself loosing the grip on self-control. He has to prevent that from happening. It's not like he never experienced anything like this. When he had still worked for Hydra the memory wipes and the chair had stopped the flow of thought on a regular. Of course it wasn't like that now. They aren't ripping his brains out again, he is still thinking, still present. But he can almost feel the restraints dig into his flesh wrist and scraping over the metal one, can almost taste the metallic ozone on his tongue. With the panic comes the adrenalin rushing into his bloodstream. He can't allow himself to give into the urge and run. If he draws attention to himself now, they will find him. They cannot find him.

He cannot jump out of the airplane either. He knows that he would survive. It wouldn't be the first time that he fell out of a fast-moving vehicle from a great height. But then he would lose Steve, and he would fail the mission. He has to protect Steve and he can't fail his mission again, not again. So he presses his teeth together until he can taste the iron of blood and pushes his body into lock down. It's risky. He hopes that he will be able to snap out of it when they land. If he does manage, his body will be even slower than it is from the cold anyway. But it isn't like he has a choice. He is the asset, he is the soldier. He will carry through, he will finish the mission.

He must have lost a hold of time though, because according to his inner clock they should have reached New York already. It takes them at least another hour to approach landing.

When he notices that the noise has stopped, he gets up. The light that comes from the opening is almost blinding and silently, he inches forward. He cannot know when the staff will come unloading all these boxes. He is lucky, really, that Stark uses his private jet to transport whatever it is he transports in these wood boxes. Weapons, he assumes, if Tony Stark has followed Howard Stark, his father's footsteps and overtaken the Stark empire. But it also means, that he is in danger of immediate exposure. He strains his ears and it's only because of the enhancement that he hears the soft footsteps coming and able to hide just in time. He doubts that he would have gotten away pretending to be a civilian that got lost, even if he wasn't in combat.

As soon has he gets out he starts looking for a car. He can't avoid losing Steve for a short amount of time. But he can still get to him soon, before…

He doesn't know before what, exactly. It's like a feeling in his stomach that tells Bucky that he has to get to him as soon as possible. It irritates him that he has acted based on feelings more in one day than he has in seventy years probably. From one day to another he suddenly knows nothing for sure anymore. He realizes that the things he knew before, the things his handlers told him, weren't true. It makes him feel like a wounded animal, his instincts telling him that offense is the best defence. While his memory has been recovering, he is still confused and all he thought was true isn't. It's not like he has another choice than to trust his feelings.

What he does know is that Steve and Natalia came in a Stark jet. He also knows that Tony Stark has a Tower here in Manhattan. They must be headed to him. He steals another car from the parking lot and drives.

He is just outside the city and leaves the car on the roadside when he realizes that he doesn't actually know how to drive. He never had to drive for Hydra. He was a weapon he shouldn't be able to move too quick on his own. It wasn't something he needed to know how to do. His body had just taken over, without thinking he had known what to do, the ability to drive a car etched into his explicit memory, even though they were so different now than they were back then, when old Mr. O'Malley had allowed him to drive his old shabby ford around the neighbourhood sometimes.

He shakes his head. He doesn't want to think about it.

He goes to the train station. At first, he stands in front of the screen where he has to tap onto little buttons to buy a ticket. But it doesn't work and instead he taps his foot impatiently on to ground. For the third time now the automat tells him that he apparently aborted the purchase and he is just about to walk away when a little lady waiting in the queue behind him speaks up. "Can I help you, young man?" But she doesn't wait for a response, just pushes at his shoulder, the right one, and starts typing away. "I didn't get along with these things at first at all, you know how it is. I'm old. My grandson showed me how it works, he's a very nice man." While she babbles on he looks at her. Her skin is thin as a paper and wrinkled. She almost has no hair on her head, but the little she does is dyed bright red. It hits him that she was probably born around the same time as him. Maybe she is a bit younger, but she is still closer to him than a lot of people who look his age. It makes him feel sick and makes him think about Dottie. Dottie had been a girl he'd dated just after high school, the only one he could've seen himself with maybe. She'd found herself another fella though. And really, if he was being honest, there had only ever been Steve.

The old woman pushes the ticket in his hand now. "Thank you." He says and starts to get out a few dollars. She pulls a face of distaste at that. "It's fine, dear, don't you worry about that. My grandson has been to the war too, I understand how it can be. You just take care of yourself okay?" She smiles up to him. "Thank you." He says again and turns away.

It takes him some time to get to Manhattan and the Stark tower, but when he arrives there at last, he starts looking for Steve's apartment. He climbs onto the tallest building next to the skyscraper and makes his way up to the upper floors designed for housing. He peers into everyone and when he cannot find any trace of Steve he waits and hopes to see him in one at some point. But the days pass, it has been three days and there is still no sign of him. He has to admit to himself that Steve probably doesn't live here. He has spotted Natalia though and he assumes that the avengers will have meetings. So he waits.

He waits on the roof of the building for another three days when he finally sees Steve walking up to the tower. Even from the distance Bucky can tell doesn't look good. His blond hair is am mess on his head and he has rings under his eyes so dark that they might as well be black eyes someone punched into him. He's so beautiful it takes Bucky's breath away. Unconsciously he leans down a bit more and if anyone is watching him, they know for sure what he is watching. Who he is watching. But he can't take his eyes off of Steve. It's not like Steve will notice him. With a quick stride and hunched shoulders, he walks briskly into the VIP entrance of the tower. And then he's gone again.

Bucky waits another few hours on the roof, then decides to wait on the corner of the building under the trees. As he stands under the green crowns of leaves, he realizes he's shaking. Maybe it's because of Steve, because he finally saw him again. Maybe it's because he hasn't eaten in god knows how long. He decides that it's probably a combination of both. While he waits, he eats a few of the energy bars he stole from a shop at the train station. They taste sweet. He liked sweet things once, especially chocolate. He used to trade some of his rations during the war for chocolate. Never his cigarettes though. He would really like to smoke one again. He'll have to steal a pack later.

Two hours later Steve comes out of the silvery doors now again, next to him a tall man. He's talking frantically, waving around with his hands and Steve just stares to the ground. They come into his direction, so he takes a few steps back, hides behind the bid trunks of the trees.

"You can't storm out right away Steve! You need a plan, you need to slow down to think for a second- "the man says. He recognizes him now, it's the one with the wings from the helicarrier.

"We can't slow down Sam! We have to get to them as fast as possible, or they'll disappear. They will warn other bases we don't even know about yet and we never will if we don't start moving now." Steve's voice is quiet, but firm. He remembers a time when Steve would have exploded by now, to compensate his small body, to prove himself. That wasn't necessary anymore.

"So, you're gonna do – what exactly? Jump in there, head first, fists raised with no idea what you're actually up against?" Sam sounds resigned, like he knows the answer already, but asks the question anyway. Bucky supposes if he knows Steve in the least, that's how it is. (true)

"I know what I'm doing. I'm the man with the plan, remember?"

Sam snorts. "I realized after spending two days with you what a load of bullshit that actually is, Rogers."

"Well I'm making it up as I go, that counts." There is a smile in Steve's voice.

They have passed him now and so he follows them, his cap pulled down into his face. This time he has glasses to disguise himself too. Still, it's worrying really, that two grown men supposedly trained to spot a shadow don't notice him. But he is the Winter Soldier, the asset. It shouldn't surprise him.

They stay silent for a little while and when Steve speaks up, he's serious again "Seriously, Sam, you don't have to come with me. You have done so much already, I can't ask you to- "

"Aw, shut up man, don't do that. I want to, you know I do. I know that it's the right thing to do, but going in without a plan – I just worry about you, you know?"

"I do. Thanks, Sam."

"Sure thing, dude. Now. What has to be done before the big mission?"

"Not much, I guess. Nat said everything is ready, all we gotta do now is wait 'til sunrise."
"Sunrise. Very dramatic."

"Yeah. But it's also in the morning when surveillance is the laxest."

"Right, right, that too. Try to get some sleep then, okay big guy?"

"I will."

And with a hug their ways part. Sam steers straight ahead, while Steve takes a turn left. They walk for a little while and before Bucky knows it, they cross the Brooklyn Bridge. The sleek grey skyscrapers turn into red brick houses around them and the longer they walk the more familiar the houses become. The neighbourhood isn't like he remembers, not really, but it has been almost eighty years. He supposes that he can't expect home to be the same when he isn't either. Then Steve walks up to a house and it's like a punch in the face. It's their old house. Their old red brick house, with their old creaky fire escape and their old ratty apartment. While Steve fondles with his keys, he makes himself walk ahead. When he's gone, he climbs up on the next building. He thinks a girl they had been friends with had lived here. Hester or something.

He stays up there the whole night watching Steve. Despite promising Sam to get some rest, he doesn't go to sleep all night. Bucky can see him pacing around in the living room that is the kitchen and dining room at the same time, before finally steeling down at the desk and taking out his sketching book. It's such a familiar sight, that it sends a spark through his spine. Even though Steve looks so different now, even though he has been brainwashed, erased and isn't the same Bucky anymore, even though they are seventy years in the future, Steve looks still the same hunched over a piece of paper, chewing on his lips in concentration.

But Steve should get some rest. He looks like he hasn't seen an actual bed in weeks and if they really are going on a mission against Hydra in the early morning, he will need his strength. It's not like he can do anything to make him sleep though. Even if he had his tranquilizer gun with him, he couldn't possibly shoot Steve. Maybe it would get him some rest, the drugs wouldn't affect him for more than three hours max. but he cannot let anyone know that he's here. And they would know.

So has no other choice but to watch Steve all night and makes sure that he's save, until he puts on his suit in the morning and gets into a sleek car, that drives him away.

Bucky follows.