I Know What You Did In the Dark

Sam

I told Cap once that maybe Bucky was not the kind of guy you save. I'll never forget the look he gave me when I said it, like I had just killed his first-born child. From that day on, I learned there was a bond there I could never touch and if it was that important to Cap, it would be to me too.

But I understood it, because it reminded me of Riley. Anyone who has lost someone close understands that raw emotion of loss that never really goes away. Steve now had a chance to bring the lost back from the dead. What I wouldn't give to have that opportunity.

So here I was, gumshoeing Washington for him, looking for a very real ghost who tried on more than one occasion to kill me. It didn't stop me from looking, though, because to do that would be insulting to Steve and I could never do that to him.

It was late afternoon. My back was to the railing of the George Washington Memorial Parkway Bridge, arms crossed, seemingly at a dead end. I had torn this town up from stem to stern and nothing had turned up. Hospitals were overwhelmed and Bucky would not be so stupid to walk into one. He didn't want to be found, and having to think like an assassin was starting to wear on me. Kicking the dirt between the sidewalk squares, I looked up from my frustrations to see a homeless dude. He was wearing some very atypical combat boots for someone of his profession. "Hey, bro. Where'd you get that fine footwear?" I asked him, standing up, as he rummaged through the trashcan near me for a bite.

The man stood up suddenly, unshaven beard blowing in the wind, a wild look in his eye but not for me, "Where? Where is he? Please… don't let him hit me again!" He had a purpling bruise over his right cheek.

"Who? Who hit you?" I pressed carefully watching the nervous man twitch and jerk at the slightest movements and sounds.

He leaned in and I could smell the liquor on his breath, "That man in black. With the silver arm!" His voice was a bare whisper. Eyes darted in all directions.

"Oh. That man." I agreed with him trying to build some rapport with him.

"These are his shoes. I found them when I woke up." he replied with hesitation.

"Did he say anything to you?" My hope was rising that I'd have a lead.

"No. Just looked at me… with those empty eyes." The man shuddered, "And then he hit me once. I thought I heard him arguing with someone but I didn't see anyone else. And then… I blacked out. He took everything I had." Sadness filled the man's eyes that made me almost ashamed to be interrogating him when he was obviously due some justice and none was coming.

"Where did he hit you?" I pressed gently.

"Over there." he gestured toward the island.

"Thanks, bud. Thanks. I'm looking for him. That guy." I told the homeless man who was still scanning the surroundings for the Winter Solider, "You gotta name?"

The bearded face looked at me curiously then cautiously, "You ain't going to take me somewhere are you?"

"No sir." I replied earnestly.

"My name.. my name is Walter. I go by Walt. " he responded with a hint of a shy grin.

I inclined my head, "Nice to meet you Walt. You know, I work in rehab. I know some great shelters around here."

He became fearful looking but then slightly grateful, "Whadda mean?"

"Because you've helped me so much, can I suggest you go to one? Help you clean up some." I put on my best therapist face.

The blue eyes set in a sea of a hard life, softened a bit and became more sober, "You know, it's been a long time since I've had a proper shower."

"Then let me help you out, man." I said offering my hand.

He took it and gave me a strong shake, "I'd like that."

After I got Walter settled in at a friend's shelter, I came back to the island. The sun was setting and so I had to hurry over the bridge to the park. Quickly approximating where Walt had said Bucky jumped him I hiked into the woods. Long shadows were being thrown by the setting sun and the forest floor was beginning to look like every other place I'd already seen. I was glad the Army taught us how to track in field training or I'd be lost.

The twinkle of something shiny caught my eye embedded in a large tree trunk. Stepping over, I saw a tiny piece of metal, polished brightly silver, impaled in the bark. "Here's a piece of the puzzle, Bucky." I said out loud. Scanning the ground and other trees, I didn't see any more evidence. "Think, Wilson." I scolded myself.

A breeze passed through the trees and I heard a creaking sound. Looking up, there was a dark package stowed way up in the crotch of a tree branch.

"Cut the check." I said with a smile.

Knocking the package down, I rummaged through it. Mostly weapons and some survival gear but a piece of paper drew my attention. The ink was smeared from water but the email and had an address on it: Steve's address in New York City.

"Oh no." I breathed.