Chapter Two

Bucky stepped off the bus, glancing at his surroundings in the light of the setting sun. It was colder here than in Arizona, and he pulled his jacket tight around his shoulders. He was farther north than he had intended to be, but that was fine, he was making good time.

He pulled out his cell phone and checked the time, which took a few minutes to get the clock to appear. About 7 pm. Did I really just lose almost twelve hours? He shook his head and replaced the phone in his pocket, trying not to think too much about it. A glance around, no one was looking at him.

Bucky walked on, hoping to come across another crappy motel to stay the night. The strange thing, when he lost time, was that it didn't feel like the time had passed mentally. It was still 7:30 in the morning for him, he had just saved the cashier at the gas station. The only difference was the sky, and slightly slower movements. Still, maybe he could find a computer and try doing some research into HYDRA.

He mentally groaned at the thought of research. That kind of thing wasn't really his strong suit, especially after his time as the Winter Soldier, constantly being told what to do instead of being able to figure things out for himself. Figuring that out was going to be a hassle.

A glance around his vicinity didn't reveal any motels, but he did see a bar, and couldn't remember actually having alcohol before. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, with the blackouts, but since one had just occurred he figured he was safe. They never seemed to happen one right after the other.

The place was loud but the lights were rather dim, so it didn't aggravate his headache very much. Bucky sat at an empty spot at the bar and ordered a beer, figuring he'd have to steal money again to pay. What a dumb thing to have to steal for. Stupid idea, Barnes.

He waited for the bartender to return and cancel the alcohol, not feeling like being even more of an asshole. A few more people clustered around the bar beside him, jostling him in his seat. Why is this place so damn crowded? It's only… he counted in his head. It's Tuesday. Is everyone else unemployed and on the run as well, with nothing better to do?

"James Buchanan Barnes."

Bucky froze as his name was whispered in his ear. His full name. He only figured that out a week ago. Someone here knew him, and only an enemy speaks a name with malice like that. HYDRA had found him. This isn't how this's supposed to go, I'm supposed to find them. How did they find me? What's going to happen?

Bucky forced down his panic and slowly turned to face the speaker. A guy in a suit, with spiky brown hair and black eyes. Bucky recognized him with a jolt: the agent had often overseen his brainwashing treatments. His name was Saunders.

Saunders smiled humorlessly at the fear that flickered across Bucky's face. "You're a long way from home, soldier. Time to return to base."

Bucky's eyes flickered around. Why hadn't he seen it earlier? So many people in a bar that should have been deserted. They must have the whole block cordoned off!

He felt pressure on his shoulders and glanced up, spying two men in similar attire to Saunders. "I am not going back," he snarled, surprising himself with the anger in his voice.

While the two agents who held Bucky flinched and almost pulled away, Saunders only smiled a little wider. "Of course you are. There are more targets out there, just sitting there, waiting for you to slaughter them." He leaned in a little closer and Bucky forced himself not to move. "You were always so easily manipulated, Barnes. Perfect for the program. It's what you were made for."

Somewhere in his mind, the vicious voice agreed with Saunders, willing him to just give it up, it's not like he had any hope anyway, might as well just-

NO. In an almost involuntary action, he lashed out, striking Saunders in the throat and tossing him off the bar stool. Bucky front-flipped over the counter, breaking the agents' holds just as the shooting started.

Bucky huddled behind the bar, feeling the wood shudder with each strike of the bullet. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone. The bartender was there too, shotgun clamped to his chest and shivering. When Bucky motioned urgently for the gun, he was all too happy to give it up and curl into a bar on the floor.

The former Winter Soldier paused, counting the shots until they fell silent. Then, he rose up from behind the bar, firing the first shot. Spread shot, he noted, seeing both agents be flung backward. He counted quickly; four more, all armed, seemingly disoriented by the resistance. That wouldn't last long.

Bucky vaulted over the bar, lunging forward and swinging the gun in a wide arch, bringing it down on the agent's head, who then crumpled to the ground. He crouched by him, retrieving the agents' gun and firing three shots. All reached their destinations before any of them could even fire again.

He stood quickly, hearing the retching cough from near the bar. Slipping the pistol into his pocket, he retrieved the shotgun and strode over to Saunders.

Saunders looked up at the form that towered over him, staring at him with pitiless eyes and pressing the barrel of the gun between his eyes. If there's one thing that could be said about the Winter Soldier, it was that he always got his target. Now I'm his target.

Saunders was sputtering something- a plea? Bucky didn't know. "You listen to me, Saunders. I am not your pawn, I am not your plaything, and there is no way in hell that I'm going back with you."

"P-please don't shoot me," Saunders whimpered, eyes crossed and trained on the shotgun.

Bucky seemed to consider this, then sighed, lowering the gun and letting it drop to the floor. "Maybe we can compromise."

Saunders relaxed a fraction, just for a moment. Then Bucky's fist connected with his jaw, a light exploded over his vision, and he saw no more.

Bucky sighed and looked around at the bodies on the ground. Second time today he'd gotten into a fight. Maybe one day, I'll be in a position where I don't actually have to kill anyone. He glanced around; anyone else who had been in the bar had fled when they sensed a fight about to break out. Probably didn't expect one of this magnitude.

He set the shotgun on the bar and glanced down at the bartender. "Sorry 'bout all this." Then, he exited.

So HYDRA's looking for me while I'm looking for them. Like my job wasn't hard enough, Bucky mused with irritation, watching police cars zoom past him, none hesitating at the figure walking down the street alone.

After a few blocks, he stopped and sat down at a bench, taking out Saunders' phone and paging through it. It was mostly clean, except for the last ten messages from a conversation with someone named Don Caballero.

ME: He's just getting off the bus now

DC: Positive ID?

ME: Positive

DC: Any signs that the Failsafe is in affect?

ME: Hard to say. He's having trouble with his phone

DC: Understandably. I don't need a play-by-play, Agent.

ME: Sorry sir

ME: We're moving into position, the area is secure

DC: Be careful, Agent. Barnes is one of the deadliest operatives we've ever had. If the past is anything to go on, he won't hesitate to destroy you if he remembers you.

ME: I've got this boss. Will report later

Bucky frowned, dedicating the name 'Don Caballero' to memory, powering the phone down. Is this the head of HYDRA? The true head, the one that won't come back if cut off?

He tossed the phone to the ground, stood up, and crushed it with the heel of his boot. Glancing around, he saw a building larger than the rest. Upon approaching it, he saw it was a library. Just the place to look up a sinister organization's mailing address.

Bucky entered and was immediately approached by a smiling, young librarian. "Good evening, sir. Do you need help with anything?"

"Do you have a computer somewhere I can use?" he asked, hoping he didn't seem abnormal in any sense. The library seemed to be scrutinizing him rather closely, it was a little unnerving.

"Of course. Just sign your name in the book over there and have at it. Luckily, there isn't a line." She didn't say that with much conviction, and Bucky doubted if there was hardly ever a line. She noticed him glancing around the small building. "Not a local, are you?"

"No, just passing through."

"Aww, that's too bad."

What's that supposed to mean? There was a silence that seemed a bit awkward, then she stepped aside. "Well, don't let me hold you up." Then, she was gone. Did I do that right?

Not wanting his real name down on paper- it didn't feel right, and it also wasn't smart- Bucky signed 'Steven R.'.

He realized quickly that his metal hand wasn't suitable for typing, so it took him even longer to get started one-handed. After figuring out how to access the internet and pulling up a search engine, it didn't take Bucky that much longer to figure out that Don Caballero was probably an alias. There were few mentions of anyone by that name, and the ones that did exist were stockbrokers or chefs from Wyoming or something. Overall, nothing of use.

Bucky sighed, leaning back and wiping his eyes. The tiredness and stress were finally catching up to him, and he had maybe three dollars to his name. Where the hell was he going to stay? Even when working for HYDRA, he'd had funds sufficient enough that he wasn't out on the streets. Bucky had read that he'd been behind enemy lines before, but this situation was different even from that.

After clearing the computer's history- Getting the hang of those things- he quickly exited the building before the librarian could spot him again. It was around 9 o'clock now, and as he passed a storefront with a TV, he saw a news report about five men dead, two wounded, in a local bar. Bucky sighed, rubbing his temple and trying to clear the lingering headache. Staying here wouldn't do him any good; that bartender was bound to remember his face. Just sleep on the bus, he thought, before remembering that he'd need to pass the bar to get to the rest stop.

He walked, and though his headache was gone, his body was sore from the last few days. Stopping by a stand, he used his remaining money to buy a large thermos full of coffee. The coffee wasn't actually supposed to be included in the price, but the stall keeper felt pity for the man, who seemed to be newly-homeless and possibly ill. Bucky downed most of it as he strode away, but it did nothing to cut through the exhaustion.

What seemed to be a common occurrence were people sleeping in doorways, Bucky noticed. Do they think it keeps them warmer? It doesn't look like it would. But he saw no other option, so he chose a doorway and tried to sleep.

As he finally drifted off, he was struck with the ridiculous notion that the doorway would keep him safe, and wondered if that was what everyone else thought too.

Wow, there was a huge response to this story! I just want to thank everyone who took the time to read it, and I hope you continue to read new chapters as they are published. Yeah, there will be more. (Had to come up with a full story for something I originally intended to be a one-shot, so I hope you'll like it.)